Week 12 Storytelling: Lost

Image Information: Alice through the looking glass, desperate to go home. Source: Tumblr

Her tears puddled together on the hard ground. Balancing on the tip of her nose, the edge of her lips, her chin, as if clinging to her in sympathy before fate forced them from her. They fell, far far down, making a small noise as they joined the others, contributing themselves to the growing puddle.

She dragged her fingers through the salt water, getting her fingertips wet, and drew them along the concrete. She sketched little lines alongside the puddle with the moisture that beaded on her fingertips, each one fading further with every second that passed.

            She couldn’t remember how long she had been here, kneeling on the ground, watching her tears fall and become one with the Earth. She remembered running, and lots of blurred greenery, warped by her movement. And noises. So many noises. Yells and thuds. Screeches. It was dark and getting darker every second, and lying on the ground wasn’t changing that. But she was just so confused. How long had she been here even? Was she ever going to find a way out of these woods?

            “Alice.” She shivered, and whipped her head around, staring into the darkness of the woods behind her. “Oh, little Alice. Where did you go?” She looked down and saw her face in her tears—an eerie mirror image to the beginning of her trip into this opposite world. Her fingers were in the tears again, but this time there was no other world on the other side. The Alice looking back at her was the same one that was looking in. There was no world on the other side. No portal back to her real home in her real world.

            But what was real? Was she even real? Nothing about her felt real anymore. Her tears felt real though. And real tears must have been created by a real person. So she was real, wasn’t she? Nothing about this place felt real and the longer she spent here, the less connected to herself she felt. It was like she was fading away.

            She heard a crunch behind her, but resigned to her fate in this weird, dark land, she didn’t move from her crumpled position on the ground.

            Two hands landed on her shoulders—one on either side, “Oh dear Alice, don’t be sad. We’re in Wonderland. There is no sadness here.” She looked up on either side of her, the faces of the two twins staring at her, huge, ignorant smiles on their faces.

            “A poem will help, Alice. Let us tell you another poem.” The one on the right said.

            “Make it the longest one you know, brother.” The other said.

            Alice closed her eyes, and continued to cry. The sound of the brothers squabbling harsh in the background. The tears mixed with the pool already gathered on the ground. She saw her reflection in the ripples. She hung her head and continued to weep, sure that she would never see her home again.

Author’s Note:

I was really struck by the singular part of the Tweedledee and Tweedledum story where Alice starts to cry because the brothers tell her she isn’t real. It was crazy that this little part is actually just a deeper philosophical question that basically everyone has struggled with. Alice is in this crazy different world and the stress is beginning to get to her. I wanted to write about how this struggle can affect you in a deeper way. She’s hopeless and has given up. It’s illogical to think that most stories can end positively when in reality nothing works that way.

Biography:

Tweedledee and Tweedledum (continued). Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There by Lewis Carroll (1871).

Week 12 Reading Diary B:

Image Information: Alice Through The Looking Glass. Source: Saatchi Gallery

Looking-Glass House (1 and 2): 

Mirror world as separate world where everything is the same but different. Looks same but it could be different. Wanted so badly to go into the mirror world that the glass melted away. New world much more interesting. Everything personified. Chess pieces alive.

Chess people couldn’t see or hear her. Found the Jabberwocky poem. Pretty but hard to understand. Decided to move on and see more of this world before returning home. 

Tweedledum and Tweedledee:

Two fat men standing so still she couldn’t tell if they were alive. When they did finally speak they spoke in riddles. Characters with old songs. Weird ethics. Refuse to tell her how to get out of the woods and instead recite a poem to her—the longest one they knew. 

The Walrus and the Carpenter:

Not giving Alice and choice in whether or not to listen to the poem.

Personified moon and sun. Sun shining at night. Walrus and carpenter jaded. Wish there to be no sand at all. Cry about it. Coaxed young oysters from the safety of the sea to follow them on the sand. They go on a nice walk and then sit to rest and eat to get their strength back. The oysters were a little leery about getting eaten, but the Walrus and the Carpenter assuaged their worries. Just kidding. They ate them all. 

Tweedledum and Tweedledee (2 and 3):

Walrus felt worse for the oysters than the Carpenter. But the Carpenter ate less than the Walrus. But both ate as many as they could. Alice decided they were both horrible characters. Then they show her the red king who is just sleeping in the woods—snoring like a train and having no cares at all. A lot of weird philosophy what if questions being brought up. Can’t make yourself more real by crying. Can you cry if you’re not real? Nonsense and its foolish to cry over nonsense. Sense that something can happen but not effect you directly, if at all.

Tweedledee and Tweedledum start freaking out about a rattle. One severely angry the other severely weird (trying to fold himself up inside an umbrella). The brothers decide they are going to battle each other. Crow comes and interrupts. Alice hides. 

Humpty Dumpty (1, 2, 3, and 4):

Alice meets and egg. Not a normal one. It keeps getting bigger and bigger—and more human—as time goes on. HUMPTY DUMPTY. Already sitting in a precarious position, balanced on a wall. Immediately offends him. Doesn’t know what to do so she starts reciting Humpty Dumpty right next to him. Names define/explain your shape. She is giving him riddles that are too easy apparently. Adamantly says he won’t fall and that even if he did the king promised to fix him. Grows suspicious that Alice knows this. Placated by the thought that he is in a book on the history of England.

If I meant it I would have said it. One can’t help but grow older. Lots of subject changes. Unbirthday presents. Words that mean what the owner chooses it to mean—neither more, neither less.

But words can mean many different things. Personified words with minds of their own that have feelings and emotions. Pay words for using them? How does he pay them? Humpty can apparently explain any poem ever invented. Obviously not the case. And then Humpty wishes to recite poetry to her as well.