Cheshire Conversation

By -
 “Why can’t you see that you have to break it! Your oath doesn’t matter in the face of stuff as important as this! Can’t you see!” The last two words were said with in a pleading note in her voice that she had never used in front of a stranger before. 

“On the contrary,” the cat said with a grin part maniacal and a greater part sane. “I have to see that I cannot break it. For if I do break it, why should I break it?” 

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

“If I break my oath, why should I break it?”

“What?” She looked at him with a challenge to explain and spread her hands. “That makes no sense. Even coming from you.”

“Wrong!” His whole body twisted on the tree branch to look at her, and he grinned like a psycho. “It makes all the sense in this world! It’s the most nonsense sense of a spell that we have. When Wonderland forgets the old, old spells that spell that kind of sense then Wonderland descends into blood and chaos. Instead of topsying her turvys and turvying her topsys she topsys her topsys and turvys her turvys, she forces the things upside down upside down again and bends the bends that were never meant to be bent, ripping the rites meant to be crumpled.” His eyes narrowed on pupils sharper than she had ever seen above his upturned mouth. “Do you understand?” 

The grin dropped from his face and the forest dropped dead silent. His face was serious as death,  and her feet were pinned in place under his tree.

“When Wonderland breaks the Old Laws, then all Wonderland breaks with them.” 

The corners of his mouth slammed back upwards and a bird screeched only a few trees away. “We have enough cracks don’t you think?” He cocked his head and tapped the branch he was lying on once. “My oath is an oath on an Old Law, and I will not be breaking it, not even for the Broken Child.”

The last thing she saw of him were his eyes, crazy clear swirling yellow. Then they blinked, and he was gone. She hadn’t gotten to answer. 

She fought the urge to stamp her foot and start crying and instead scowled at the ground like she had a grudge against it. 

She turned away from the tree, and kept walking. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Hotel at the Top of the Mountain

By -
   Erraline sat at her balcony looking out at the pearly sky and snowy peaks that surrounded her. Dove-gray clouds softened the stark black and white mountains that ringed the hotel on all sides.    This was her favorite space in her rooms, out here alone with the open sky and cold mountains. Being with them made all her frustrations seem very temporary, they cleared her thoughts and made her feel like something would come, something might change.    "Erraline?"    A voice wafted out from inside, and Erraline sighed. She lifted her head and enjoyed the wind against her face a moment more, skirts ruffling against her legs, stray hairs wafting away from her neatly done hair.    The balcony door opened with a chuk  and Erraline turned away from the wind.    "Erraline? There you are, it's time to begin your lessons."    Erraline followed Madame Oyena into the little library that served as her schoolroom. ...
Read more

Dino Boy: Not Like the Cemetery

By -
  Rex could feel the death in the dirt.  It wasn’t cemetery death, cemetery death was neat and ordered. Bones that belonged to the same bodies were buried together in chosen plots, in their own special places, arranged the same way they’d been arranged in life.  The bones here weren’t like that, they hadn't been cared for. They 'd been jumbled up and mixed together and then rattled carelessly down into the ground like trash. And it wasn't just the bones here. He had always been able to feel the bones, to feel the last ruins of living bodies under the soil. He'd always been able to feel that. The blood was new. And dark.  There was anger in the blood, wrongness, a rage that made it cling. And it bubbled . He could feel it coming up from the earth, screaming through his veins, boiling through his blood and into his brain in a raging, roiling blackness roaring injustice- He gasped as his knees hit the dirt.  He breathed in in deep, heaving gulps and pushed himself ...
Read more

Spirit on a Wire

By -
     The city people say a spirit walks their wires.      The lonely people are the ones who know him the best. From a balcony, from the street, they see a pair of red and black sneakers pace the power lines, the figure above them hidden beneath baggy clothes and a deep hood. You can see his ankles, they say, confirmation that it is in fact the figure of a man walking the space between the telephone poles, only a single black line between him and falling. They never see his face. They only see his back, see his arm, see a collar and a deep shadow.     The lonely people love him like one of their own, and the other people love him as their protector.      He has an iron grip they say, and feet that walk the air like the steps on a fire escape. He needs no weapon for the men in the alleys.       There are stories, you see, stories of old women and young women, stories of beaten men who saw the gray shadow appear be...
Read more