The Wonderland Story

[Anne of Lothlorien]

So, remember a few KP newsletter contest back, when it was the girl holding up the Wonderland hitchhiking sign? Well, I wrote an entry for that, but unfortunately didn’t turn it in in time. But I have been thinking about turning it into a short story. Problem is, I really like what I’ve written, I just can’t think of a beginning, a background for the story, and maybe an end, or should I make my end there an end? See, if I want to change it from flash fiction to a short story with an actual beginning and end, I just can’t think of a good beginning and possibly end. So if y’all could read this and make suggestions, and tell me if you think I should keep the end as the end, you would have my eternal thanks and maybe a few ice cream sandwiches as well.

I’m crazy.
I know that.
My brothers laugh at me, my mother shakes her head, and my father ignores me.
They don’t want someone like me in their family.
They don’t want to be related to someone who would stand at the road, hitch-hiking to Wonderland.
They don’t believe in it.
But it’s real. I’ve been there. And I have to go back, just for a little while.
I brush hair from my eyes and pace back and forth, waving my thumb and holding my cardboard sign. Dozens of cars pass by, some people shouting at me, laughing, jeering. It’s pitiful really.
Do I actually think someone will stop and give me a ride? Does anyone else even know how to get to Wonderland. Can they? I doubt you can drive there. And what are the chances that anyone passing, who actually knows the way, will stop?
But it’s the only way I can think of to get back.
I have to try.
Ever since I’d come back from that beautiful place, I’ve been unhappy. Wonderland had shown me what I was. Who I really could be. It’d shown me the full amount of love that was poured into me by God, and how badly I need someone to give that love to. It’d shown me the beauty in my heart, and the way it could triumph over the blackness. It’d shown me truth, hope, and joy. I have to find a way to get back.
Tires grind the pavement and a black truck stops.
The door opens and a young man leans out, his quizzical eyes going from my face to my sign.
“Need a ride?” he asks slowly.
I nod, and point to my sign. “Can… can you take me there?”
“I can.”
I don’t believe it. Is this a joke? Is he serious?
“Y-you really know how to get there? To… to Wonderland?”
“Yes.” The young man rubs his chin. “I’ve been there before.”
“You have?”
He nods. I study his face. It’s bright, earnest, and honest.
I pick up my bag and climb into the seat behind him. He turns around and sticks out his hand.
“Dean.”
I shake it.
“Ali.”
I pause, trying to think of something, anything, to say as Dean puts the car in gear and pulls out of the grass.
“Um… how long will it take to get there?”
That sounds like the stupidest question ever.
Dean smiles. “Oh, not long. The tunnel is about half an hour from here.”
“Hmmm. Tunnel?”
“Yep.”
He looks at me in the rear-view mirror. I stare at his eyes. There’s something in them, something that sparkles. Something that looks like Wonderland.

And do you think the present tense fits well?

@daeus @hope @kate-flournoy @dragon-snapper @that_writer_girl_99 @emma-flournoy @f5a8c3e92 @bethanysinkyroses @stewie-plotter @Michael-Stanton @aratrea @ethryndal @graciegirl @can someone tag some others? I lost Daeus’ collective list somehow

ENFP - "One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane."

[bethanys.inky.roses]

@anne-of-lothlorien Random suggestion: do a sketch describing the character’s experience in Wonderland. It might help with the worries you have. 😉

[Anne of Lothlorien]

@bethanysinkyroses Random answer: Ghosts don’t like McDonalds. The fries are too salty for their tastes.

Seriously though, that might work… if I can sketch one. I’m not that great of an artist.

ENFP - "One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane."

[bethanys.inky.roses]

@anne-of-lothlorien You guys are amazing here. You could do a physical piece of artwork and then write a short piece about it.

[Anne of Lothlorien]

@bethanysinkyroses Another Random Answer: No, I don’t think our kidnappers put the fridge off limits, but does that mean you have to eat a banana-split while we’re trying to figure out a way to escape?

I can draw some, but the best artists I know on here are Kate Flournoy and Ethryndal.

ENFP - "One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane."

[Adry_Grace]

I…. I think I love this too much. So you’re wanting to change it from flash fiction to short story… okay. Here are my thoughts on how I would go about it.

I’m crazy. I know that

I think your beginning is fantastic, it really pulled my in. So uness you come up with something better I’d say leave it.

I stare at his eyes. There’s something in them, something that sparkles. Something that looks like Wonderland.

At the same time though, I like your ending. As someone who, in her own way, is looking for Wonderland, it gave me a little thrill. (If that makes sense)
So my solution? The middle. Obviously, you’d want it to end with her little hitchhiking scene, but something had to lead up to her being on the side of the road. Maybe she told her family a story about Wonderland and they thought she was insane. Locked her up in her room, and she escaped through the window in the dead of night, with the man on the moon watching over her adventure and the stars whispering “hurry.” Something like that.
Or maybe, she left her family months ago, and has been on her own looking for Wonderland everywhere she could think. In a cave in the mountainside, in the middle of the fountain in some busy city, in the locked stall of a bathroom gas station if she was feeling particularly desperate (I can’t see that one ending well)
So there’s my two cents. (Or maybe it’s only a penny cause you asked me for my thoughts?) Anyway, I want to read it when you’re done. Please.

[Anne of Lothlorien]

@adry+grace. Wow… um… I had no idea my writing was that good yet. Thank you soooo much, this was actually a big encouragement.
Now I look at it, I do like both the end and the beginning a lot, so I will try and improve the middle. I might include both of those suggestions, such as she is in her room when she says I’m crazy I know that, and then she escapes and there’s sort of a bit of a time lapse… I’ll think about it. thank you for your suggestions. And I’ll take them as three cents.
And I will certainly post it when it’s done.

ENFP - "One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane."

[Hope Ann]

@anne-of-lothlorien I really like the present tense in this. *waits for random answer*

INTJ - Inhumane. No-feelings. Terrible. Judgment and doom on everyone.

[Ethryndal]

@anne-of-lothlorien I second everything @adry_grace has said. (How come these people are so good at voicing my exact opinion?) I love the ending. LOVE. And the present tense is good too. 🙂

INTJ ➸Your friendly neighborhood mastermind. ➸https://thesarcasticelf.wordpress.com/

[Adry_Grace]

@ethryndal it’s because all great minds think a like.

[Anne of Lothlorien]

@hope Random Answer: Do I have any experience? Well, when the advertisement says WANTED: Heroes Who Will Die For Freedom, I think the answer would be obvious.

@ethryndal @hope @adry_grace Thank you. I wrote it in past tense first, and then accidentally wrote the last paragraph present tense. Then decided I loved it that way better and changed it all.

ENFP - "One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane."

[Gracie]

@anne-of-lothlorien I’m a bit (okay, a lot) late. 😜 But I just had to pop in and say that I love this!! I usually don’t care for present tense but it feels PERFECT here! Great job. 😀

*is probably geeking out about something*

[Anne of Lothlorien]

Thank you very much @graciegirl. You guys are all wonderful on here, and the enthusiasm means a lot to me. I’ve been a little discourage about my writing lately, because it didn’t seem to be coming from the heart, and then this… this is how I need to write. I mean, in all the flash fiction and short stories I do, the ones that I feel are really my writing all have this thread that runs through it. I haven’t quite identified it yet… loneliness, longing, sadness, searching, I don’t know, but this is the best way I write.

ENFP - "One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane."

[Anne of Lothlorien]

And *takes deep breath* Here’s the short story.

I’m crazy.
I know that.
My mother shakes her head sadly as she closes the door. The dull click of the lock echoes in my head.
They say it’s for my own good. They say that I’m mad, a lunatic, a delusional fantasist. Locking me in here is supposed to protect me.
But I know the truth.
They don’t want someone like me in their family.
They don’t want to be related to someone who’s been to Wonderland.
They don’t believe it’s real.
When I’d come back from Wonderland, when I’d told them my story, I’d thought that they would understand. I’d thought my family would listen to me. But they’d laughed. They hadn’t trusted me. My brothers had mocked me in my face. My father had ignored me.
I’d tried to tell them again, begging them to believe me. I’d tried to describe everything that’d happened to me there, how Wonderland had shown me what I was. Who I really could be. How it’d shown me the full amount of love that was poured into me by the Creator, and how I needed someone to give that love to.
They laughed again.
Then they called me a crazy girl. And I knew they were right. But then they said they would shut me up before I hurt myself, or one of them.
So here I am.
Imprisoned by my own family, by the very people who should have had the most faith in me.
A hopeless girl.
A foolish dreamer.
Maybe they are right.
There’s no such thing as Wonderland.
It was a dream.
Just a dream.
“No.”
The part of me that still believes fights against all the doubting voices and nay-saying whispers.
“No.”
It has to be there. It has to. It can’t have been a dream. It’s there. And I’m going to find it again.
I clutch at the window sash, pushing it up. The night wind swirls in, surrounding me, comforting me.
“Courage.” It breathes. “Strength and courage. You will find it again.”
I tie my sheets together, smiling drily as I do so. All my life I’ve laughed at the many stories of people escaping with their bedsheets out the window, in the dead of night, and now I’m doing it myself.
The last knot is tightened and I turn to the door.
“You don’t understand.” I spoke as if I was facing my family. “You won’t believe me? Then I’ll leave. I’ll find Wonderland. I hope, someday, you will all find it too. I’ll be waiting for you.”

The grass rustles beneath my feet as I slip along our fence to the gate. The moon smiles down on me, sharing its silver beams to light my way. The stars twinkle and flash, whispering words that I somehow understand,
“Hurry. Hurry. It’s still there. Find it. Find it. Hurry. Hurry.”
The wizened tree by the turn-lane stretches its arms down, like an old man reaching down for his grandchild.
“Don’t give up. It’s still there. Hurry. Hurry.”
The leaves shiver and turn towards the moon, bowing to its heavenly beauty. The soft voices of the stars fade as I walk down the road.
“Keep going. Hurry. You will find it. You will…”

* * * * *

I brush hair from my eyes and pace back and forth, waving my thumb and holding my cardboard sign. Dozens of cars pass by, some people shouting at me, laughing, jeering. It’s pitiful really.
Do I actually think someone will stop and give me a ride? Does anyone else even know how to get to Wonderland. Can they? I doubt you can drive there. And what are the chances that anyone passing, who actually knows the way, will stop?
But it’s the only way I can think of to get back.
I’ve tried everything else.
A man rolls down his window, tapping his cigarette ashes onto my backpack. I plead with my eyes.
He sneers, laughs, and drives away.
It’s not hopeless. I fight to convince myself of this. I will find a way.
Ever since I’d left home three months ago, I’ve been trying to get back. I’ve walked miles of road, and seen dozens of cities, but still, I haven’t found the way back yet.
One time I’d thought I had, in a cavern carved in the side of a cliff by the ocean. I’d felt something, and thought it was Wonderland, calling me.
But the cave wasn’t the way. It was just a cave. Empty. Dark. Dripping with water and echoing my sobs.
I tried again, in the woods near a park. And again, underneath a bridge. In an empty trailer. A culvert by the river. An abandoned barn.
Nothing has worked.
But I need to go back.
I have to.
Out of Wonderland, I’m unhappy. It had shown me the beauty in my heart, and the way it could triumph over the blackness, and I’d believed it. And yet, back in this place, I can’t seem to feel it anymore. I’m losing what I’d learned there. The feelings are slipping away, being replaced by the awful realities of this world. But my world is out there somewhere.
And I’m going to find it.

Tires grind the pavement and a black truck stops.
The door opens and a young man leans out, his quizzical eyes going from my face to my sign.
“Need a ride?” he asks slowly.
I nod, and point to my sign. “Can… can you take me there?”
“I can.”
I don’t believe it. Is this a joke? Is he serious?
“Y-you really know how to get there? To… to Wonderland?”
“Yes.” The young man rubs his chin. “I’ve been there before.”
“You have?”
He nods. I study his face. It’s bright, earnest, and honest.
I pick up my bag and climb into the seat behind him. He turns around and sticks out his hand.
“Dean.”
I shake it.
“Ali.”
I pause, trying to think of something, anything, to say as Dean puts the car in gear and pulls out of the grass.
“Um… how long will it take to get there?”
That sounds like the stupidest question ever.
Dean smiles. “Oh, not long. The tunnel is about half an hour from here.”
“Hmmm. Tunnel?”
“Yep.”
He looks at me in the rearview mirror. I stare at his eyes. There’s something in them, something that sparkles. Something that looks like Wonderland.

Critiques anyone? @graciegirl @bethanysinkyroses @that_writer_girl_99 @perfect-fifths @hope @daues @kate-flournoy @aratrea @ethryndal @dragon-snapper@adry_grace @emma-flournoy

ENFP - "One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane."

[Anne of Lothlorien]

Ugh. @daeus @dragon-snapper @adry_grace @perfectfifths

ENFP - "One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane."

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