Legacies

Chapter 1. The Cheshire’s Child, Wonderland

Fred raced down the bright, window-filled corridors. His four paws a blur of movement. “I told her! I told her!” He said in a fury, speaking the language all animals could understand. He reached royal blue doors, and forced them open. CRASH! (Maybe with a bit too much force).

“I TOLD YOU TO BE THERE A HOUR AGO! WHERE HAVE YOU been-“ Fred stopped in his tracks, the room had been darkened to a solid, unmoving blackness that seemed to swallow anything that entered it. He took a few tentative steps into the dark room with his light brown paws. Fear clutching his heart, sinking its cold nails into it, taking root. “Marsha?” Fred whispered. If you were standing at the doorway looking in, Fred would have seemed to vanish from thin air, the darkness enveloping him. Only two floating, teal eyes were visible, watching every step the scared, quaking dog made.

A high-pitched scream pierced the air! Fred leaped 5 feet into the air, falling on the ground, as if dead. “HAHAHAHA! You should have seen your face!!” Marsha appeared, floating high above. She clapped her paws together, making a soft thumping sound, and the room flooded with light. “Oh,” Marsha said as she looked down at the light brown dog, and realized that Fred had fainted. Marsha grumbled about dogs being scared too easily. She grabbed Fred’s forepaws and pulled him to her plush, cloud like bed.

Being the daughter of the most formidable mischief maker, people don’t actually want to be your friend like they do for other fairytale characters, but Fred was the exception. He was Marsha’s best friend in the Palace of Marmoreal, despite Marsha scaring or tricking Fred once every week. Being the daughter of the Cheshire Cat you knew lots of good tricks. For example, Marsha knew the trick that her father had used to get his infamous name the Cheshire Cat. Her father’s real name used to be the Shire Cat, he had earned the Chess part of his name from a game of chess he had played, which had lasted for seven years, until his opponent (the March Hare) had given up, saying that he was late for tea -which confused to everyone. Unfortunately the March Hare died a few years ago so no one could ask him for the full tale of what happened, nor ask why he had truly given up, for the March Hare never backed down from a good game of chess. And no one dared ask the Cheshire Cat to tell the tale, in fear of being tricked. Everyone who had ever heard the story, and knew the March Hare, had to wonder what type of trickery the Shire Cat had used to make his opponent give up. What no one knew was that every night when the Shire Cat and the Hare were playing, he would slip a very strong brandy into the Hare’s tea, and when the Hare would take out the Shire’s King and Queen, he would put them back. Trusting that the brandy would make the Hare forget that he had knocked down the Shire Cat’s King and Queen. And when the Hare finally caught on, the Shire Cat threatened him to back down or he would tell everyone that the Hare had stolen the Dormouse’s spoons! Which was not true I will have you know, but the Hare’s brain was so confused by the amount of brandy he had had every day he couldn’t even sing his favorite song “Twinkle, twinkle, little bat”! And when the story finally came out it was decided that no one could ever trust the Cheshire Cat or even his descendants.

That was the legacy that awaited Marsha. A life where everyone was afraid that you would trick them into a trap or accidentally hurt them. You might have someone who is nice to you, but they’re never your real friend. Never going to be someone you can confide in. And will never be someone that will ever actually like you for you. That wasn’t the life that Marsha wanted to live. Marsha was going to change her legacy for all she was worth. But right now Marsha wasn’t focused on that. What she wanted to do right now was to wake her best friend that probably wouldn’t stay her friend if her father’s words were true. Marsha entered a small, but tidy bathroom that was connected to her room, and filled a bucket with ice cold water. Marsha sighed as she looked at her nice warm bed about to get soaked because Fred couldn’t take a small scare. It just won’t do. She thought to herself. She pushed Fred off her bed then dumped the bucket of water on him. “AHHHH!” Fred woke up when just a drop of the icy water touched him, and his mouth opened wide . Marsha saw it just a second too late. Mouth wide open and more water on the way, it was an unfortunate situation for both.

“I said I was sorry. I didn’t see that you had your mouth open, and by the time I did it was late!”

“I know. The water wasn’t your fault.” Fred turned to her then, “But you did scare me half to death!You know I scare easily!”

“Ok, ok. I get it.”

“No I don’t think you do! This happens every week! You say ‘Ok, I understand.’ but you never do! I am struggling to remember why I became friends with you!”

That struck a nerve in Marsha. “Well, I am struggling with remembering why I became friends with someone who is such a know-it-all. And a scaredy-dog to boot! Sometimes it’s like you don’t even try to be brave. Is all your family like that or is it just you.”

Fred was suddenly very glad dogs had fur and couldn’t blush. He turned away from Marsha and headed towards the room door. “No, wait! Fred, that’s not what I meant! Please come back!” Marsha cried out. I can’t lose the only friend I have! She thought desperately.

Fred turned back facing Marsha full on. “The thing is, Marsha, I didn’t believe that you were as bad as people said, then I met you, and now I see that everyone was right in not trusting you or your father. Your father is a liar, and a cheater. And now I see that you will follow, inch by inch in his legacy. They were all right about you. You are just a female version of your father, Marsha Cheshire. Farewell, I hope you change for your own sake.” Fred turned away and walked out of the room. Never once looking back.

Heart a mess of emotions, Marsha fell from the sky. She stumbled to her bed. Trying, and failing to sort out what she was feeling. Fred, kind, forgiving Fred, realized he had given her one too many chances. He had left her and would never come back to be the best friend that Marsha thought she would always have. It was just like her father said, when he told her her lonely legacy. She had refused it then, saying to him that her story would be different. But now Marsha wasn’t so sure.

Chapter 2.

Hurt Feelings and Broken Faces, Human world “What’s up with you?” Sned said, in his usual high pitched voice.

“None of your business,” tall, blond haired Iro snapped, his bruised eye swelling, “Mom! Mom, where are you?”

“She’s up there, you jerk,” Sned said, a little more than hurt at the way his brother had talked to him, he pointed upstairs, “She’s in the, you-know-what-room.”

Oh, no, Iro thought. The last time his Mother had gone up there she had gone mad, and dreamt an imaginary world, she called Wonderland. His Auntie had written down all of her dear sister’s dreams but the world cast the stories away, never bothering to even glance at them. It had been her dying wish that her dear sister Alice, should be kept away from those dreams of her’s, before the world put her somewhere they would never see her again. But Sned didn’t understand why Iro didn’t want his mother to go up there, he was only four after all. A sigh escaped Iro soundlessly. He wished his brother had stopped her, or had needed her to help him with homework. But no. “Did you get into a fight again?” Sned blurted.

Iro ignored him, and instead he rushed up the stairs. He burst into their room from the stairwell, its light blue walls reflecting the light from the open window. “Mom?”

All was quiet. A breeze coming in from the window blew the pure, white curtains towards a small, oval table with miss-matched chairs, and dirty dishes at each spot. NO ROOM! NO ROOM! Was scribbled on the walls over and over again. A stuffed hare sat in a green, high backed chair, while an overly large top hat lay on a wood rocking chair. Violent streaks of red lined the walls forming dozens of hearts. Blood red wood had been whittled to form sharp axes, and cards had been painted with stick thin arms and legs. Everything else had been torn up or slashed apart. In one part of the room it was just too dark to see. There was no life, no movement (discounting the flowing curtains), nothing to show the room was anything but a picture a disturbed painter had painted. There was a reason the room’s door was always under lock and key.

“Mom, are you here?” Iro asked, his voice quaking.

“Iro? What are you doing here?” Her voice was small, and scared but a moment later a sickening crack sounded from the dark side of the room and a doll’s head came rolling towards him, his mother’s voice came ringing out “Now, now. Queen, that wasn’t very nice. You can’t cut off all your guests’ heads.”

“Mom snap out of it! Please.” Iro begged. He walked slowly to the dark part of the room. A hand whiter than snow reached out.

“Iro, please help me.” The scared tone was back in her voice, and fear creeped into Iro. He grabbed her hand and pulled. His mother, her white blond hair knotted, came into view. Iro wrapped her in a hug, and that’s when the tears started to flow, each one marking a moment where both were scared and afraid. “I… am… so… sorry.” Alice sobbed, “The call was too strong.”

“It’s ok Mom. It’s ok.”

“Mom? Are you ok?” Sned’s small voice rang out in the silent room “When is dinner? I’m hungry.”

Alice stood up, sniffling. “Don’t worry honey, dinner will be ready soon.” She turned to Iro and put her hand on his arm “Thank you.” Alice and Sned walked out of the room and down the hall, turning to the left and heading down the stairs. Iro walked to the doorway and then looked back into the room of horrors, the room of madness, and the room of dreams. Iro had only wished for one thing, but that one thing kept running farther and farther away.

When Iro went downstairs and into the kitchen, his Mom was filling up a large pot of water. She looked up and looked hard and long at his face. “So do you want to tell me what happened to your face?”

“Is it ok if I just say there was a fight at school?” Alice gave him a look that very clearly said it wasn’t enough. “Ok, fine. Someone said you were an insane lunatic. I just couldn’t take it, Mom. I may have punched him in the face. And the stomach.”

“Iro,” she said in a soft voice, “you need to stop defending me if it means I have to go to the school to sort things out with the parents and the school. This is your fifth infraction in these last three months. You can’t get in more trouble than you already are. And I have to say, are those two wrong? You saw how I was just a moment ago.” she shuddered at the thought. Alice put stringy, stiff, pasta in the water, and put it all on the stove, turning the heat up.

“It’s just so annoying!” Iro exclaimed, and words started to burst from his lips, words never said out loud to anyone, especially not to his mother, “I get judged by everyone because you’re my mother! I can hear them whenever I score a goal in my soccer games ‘Oh, isn’t that crazy Alice’s son? I feel so bad for him.’ or I hear ‘That’s the lunatic’s son right? I wonder when he is going to turn crazy, too.’”