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Alice in Orange

06 Jun

“My dear, orange just is NOT your color”, politely stated the Cheshire Cat.  “How do you expect to ever cross  the bridge into the  Looking Glass wearing orange?  Not only does it clash with your personality, but the din of  that clash set off the alarms thus alerting the guards that curtailed your progress.”  Shaking her head,  the Cat groused, “If you would ever listen to me, I’d have given you the true misinformation”.   Alice rolled her eyes and tried to look interested but the Cat droned on with her ranting and ravings, which now included the attributes of purple and lime greens.  Since the Cat could be rather grandiloquent, Alice began to tune her out and let her mind  regroup.  Having been thwarted in her initial  crossing into the land of the mirror, she knew it was now  necessary to develop a new plan of action which would successfully propel her out of  the mundane.

The routine semi-high teas with the common folk of  her current reality had never really been her thing and Alice, sometimes to her chagrin,  had long ago set off  searching for a province in which she could feel she really belonged.  Little did she know her course once having been set in motion, would ultimately lead her to “the other side” of that damned looking-glass.  It would go without saying however, said  course was,  the only place where her many talents and abilities would be utilized and appreciated.  Since this was never said, she oft-times became confused in her quest and would lose  her way.

The guardians of the Glass  watched her closely on her daily strolls  by the mirror,  ever diligent in their appointment to stop illegal aliens attempting to make the crossover.  However, when she caught them napping, which was fairly often, she had found that she could pause to reflect  in the mirror and really study the scenery of that other side.  The grass was greener and that sky, well she knew it was a shade of blue only seen in the tales of  her youth spun by her father.  The colors of the Glass drew her as a moth to a flame and she was just as helpless in her resistance.  She knew that she was born to be there in direct contrast to here.

The hum in the background started to recede and she snapped out of her self-imposed daze.  Alice realized that the Cat had finally run out of words and was sitting expectantly with only a stare in its eyes. It allowed  its perpetual grin to say the unsaid and question the unasked.  “Too much, one  two many and too much to do?”  Alice responded with a whisper.  “I know”  said the Cat, ” but those never stopped you before.”


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A father (write whatever comes to mind)

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Posted by on June 6, 2010 in Quick Fiction

 

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