Still taking applicants? If so I would like to get in on this sweet sweet literary action
In a room lit only by candle light, the darkness can be consuming. But when you add to the fact that the room itself is just a fable then the darkness becomes everything. It becomes everything because that is exactly what you are told it is; everything.
The light flickers, framing the four faces around it. If you could see the faces you would probably say they seemed familiar, well at least a few of them. But you can?t, no one can see this. You just have to believe that it happened, trust me, I?m telling you a story.
As often happens to set a scene of drama this conversation is already half done. But what you missed isn?t important, only what is to come. What is to come is very, very important indeed. The present talker is a young girl; you may know her well, you may not. But you will defiantly know of her.
?It is not our duress to dabble in the affairs of reality.? She says politely. It?s an amazing credit to her as a queen that she can make even insults sound sincere and divine. As she speaks her hands gently shuffle a deck of playing cards, but this isn?t a habit she exhibits when she is nervous, nor when she is talking. More it is a statement of her as a person, the playing cards never leave her hands. Her name is Alice, she is the Queen of Wonderland. Presently she is wearing a long black petticoat with intricate details about its hem. Her feet are adorned by knee high black boots pulled over spidery black leggings. How ever the most impressive ornament on her body is the crown of hearts that sat atop her head. Golden and majestic with a ruby read heart dominating its centre. It was a site of true beauty if one ever did exists, but this you will have to believe me on, trust me; the story is much better if you do.
?My Queen is right, this you know to be true. The matters of humans bother neither me, nor you.? Agreed the Cheshire cat, wrapping himself around Alice?s neck as he spoke; his bell of servitude gently jingles as he eyes off the other contenders around the room.
?You?re looking out side of the big picture again Alice. Though it is a common problem with you.? If seeing a wolf wearing a purple pinstripe suit, smoking a thick cigar, sitting at a table alarmed you; then you can change it to something that you find aesthetically pleasing. But a wolf sat at the table during this conversation, and not just a wolf, the wolf, The Big Bad Wolf. You?ll have to trust me on this, after all I?m telling you stories. As he spoke the wolf removed his matching purple pinstripe fedora with an immaculate white gloved paw and gently scratched his head. Alice didn?t need to glare back, Cheshire did it for her. ?What, like you don?t think Wonderlands isolationist policies are out dated?? Snarled Big Bad. Cheshire hissed in response.
?But the lights are so bright tonight..? ambled the tables third benefactor. You could call him Winky, hell you could call him whatever you wanted. He wouldn?t really care; Winky didn?t notice much of anything anymore. Not since his mind had been crushed, but that is another story for another time. Winky strained his arms against the straight jacket that confined him over the top of his night gown, but he failed to achieve anything. So the luminescent globe of his mind stayed unreachable, dangling before his face in much the same way his night cap draped before his eyes. Then again, to Winky the night cap and the light may have been interchangeable. No one could really tell, not even Winky.
Ignoring Winky?s remark Big Bad continued his assault. ?You are too far behind in the times Alice. Stories are changing, times are changing. If you don?t get with them then you will fall into a legend, a fable.? He smiled at his own humour and it was a smile only a mother could love.
?Stories change over time, as the world they come from changes. But it doesn?t mean stories have the right to openly try to change the world they come from, your whole standpoint is preposterous.? Big Bad waved of Alice?s retaliation like a human would dismiss an irritating fly.
?Alice, I?m not a nice character. You would be the first to agree with that, but you need to see that our world is entwined with theirs, no matter how hard we try to think differently.? Alice sat back, Cheshire still glaring menacingly for her.
Of course when such plots unravel there is always some one present that had all the answers. It wouldn?t be a story if at least some one didn?t know all the answers. In this story it is much the same, and although until now she had remained silent it seemed that the conversation had reached the juncture where not talking was impossible. ?Big Bad is right Alice. Although not as right as he likes to think.? The Story Teller ? as this is the name all knew her by ? had a voice that sounded like honey might sound if it could be heard pouring from the jar. Thick and sweet. A most pleasant experience in the morning, but not limited in its pleasantness just to morning rituals. You?ll have to take my word on this, I?m telling stories.
As the Story Teller spoke she reached for her long pointed witches? hat; as she was indeed a witch and an old fashioned one at that. She insisted on wearing the dramatic long black robes and pointed shoes. It was even rumoured that a pair of red and white stripped stockings covered her legs, but none had ever seen them as the dress flowed low enough to even cover the tips of her pointed witchey shoes. But she wasn?t reaching for her hat to remove it and scratch her head like the Big Bad Wolf had earlier; rather she was reaching for a book that hung suspended on the end of her hat by a long silver chain. If you asked the Story Teller what this book was for she would merely smile, telling you it was where she recorded her stories. But as you will never have the chance you?ll just have to take my word on it. Trust me, I?m telling stories.
It may strike you as hard to believe that a book so small ? and small it was ? could be capable of recording stories. But you would be wrong, for all the Story Teller needed to do was pull on the chain and open the pages to reveal the tomb that lay within the otherwise diminutive book. It may seem improbable that something large can be contained within something small but you?ll just have to believe me on this. It is a story after all.
?Morality takes a plunge when things go from bad to worse. And the subsequent immoral acts take their own toll on our world.? As she spoke the Story Teller flipped through the pages of the book, analysing the different styles of writing that covered its millions of pages; red, green, black, and blue, the styles of hand of a thousand Story Tellers to have come before her. As she read she sighed, analysing each and every moral dilemma and its subsequent action.
The Story Teller looked back at the assembled table to ensure she had all their attention; expect for Winky whom she was sure didn?t even have and attention span anymore, a repercussion of her own moral judgments. ?This is a battle for the world that feeds us directly, and no matter whom wins there will be repercussions to us. I can?t say if they will be good or bad but they will definitely affect us in some way.? She waited tell both Alice and Big Bag had nodded; showing her it was permissible to go on. Winky nodded too but she assumed this was because he was feeling left out of the head rocking game everyone else was playing. ?But if we could some how influence this battle; try and create the outcome that will be most favourable for all of us..? Again the recourse of nods. ?Besides I?m sure we have less agenda then anyone else who would be engaged in such a fight.? Her fingers found the page of the book she was looking for and she mentally marked it so that she would be able to recall it on a whim when the time came; and she knew it would be come soon.
?But how do we influence it?? Mused Alice, the cards shuffled from one hand to the other as if by magic; flipping the deck spades through to hearts, then clubs through to diamonds.
?We go in ourselves? Concluded Big Bad Wolf. This was the resolution he had drawn long ago, but he knew without the Story Teller?s aid he would never have gotten Alice to agree to it.
?But won?t the light burn?? Giggled Winky.
?Yes, we send in a representative.? Concluded the Story Teller
?Then the big question is, who do we use?? Said Winky. His momentary laps into sanity startled the table but they all visually suppressed it.
?I suggest we send White Rabbit. He is noble of heart and a talented knight. Easily one of the safest bets.? Suggested Alice.
?Here, here.? Concurred Cheshire, his tale raising in agreement with Alice?s statement.
?Of course you would want one of your Wonderland cronies to do it.? Snarled Big Bad in response. Alice debated poking her tongue out at him but already Cheshire was doing it for her.
?Then who do you suggest?? enquired Alice.
?Why, Little Red.? Big Bad let the words hang in the air so that they could settle on the ears of every one presently at the table.
?There is now way you are risking that girl.? Alice?s façade of queenly dignity snapped. ?Not after all you have already done to her.? Alice had slammed half of the deck down in each hand, her fingers ready to draw the top two cards.
?She is better then Rabbit and you know it.? Snarled back Big Bad, looming up in his seat as he spoke, his suit now straining to confine the muscles that rippled beneath it.
?Both are wrong. Wrong and wrong again.? Rambled Winky; seemingly oblivious to the tension presently residing at the table. ?Only one can be sent. It must be Jack Nimble.? Alice returned to shuffling the cards, Big Bad returned to sitting on his seat; neither took their eyes off the other.
?No Winky, not Jack Nimble.? Cooed the Story Teller. Jack was the most infeasible suggestion so far, with Jack gone there would be no one to run the law enforcement. You can choose to believe me on whether or not Jack Nimble was the head of law enforcement around here, but you would do well to. After all I am telling stories.
?This is outrageous; we will never come to a decision on who to send as we all already have some one in mind.? Said Alice as diplomatically as she could.
?For once I agree with the girl.? Big Bad Wolf didn?t look at her as he spoke, he wouldn?t give her the satisfaction.
?Well that?s good, as I haven?t suggested anyone yet and I think I have the perfect candidates.? Smiled the Story Teller. Everyone suddenly felt like having breakfast. ?I think we should use my servants.?
?What, Hansel and Gretel?? choked out Alice. She didn?t want to say they were just kids ? although it was true- as that criticism had been levelled at her many times over.
?No. My old servants.?
?But didn?t you send them away; they were disobedient enough even to anger you. How are they our best bet?? Cried Big Bad, who having seen that this diplomatic negotiation wasn?t going to end the way he had anticipated was now quite enraged. The Story Teller just smiled in reply as her fingers flipped back to the page she had sought out earlier.
?Sit back everyone and let me tell you a Story about Jayck and Jyill??
The light flickers, framing the four faces around it. If you could see the faces you would probably say they seemed familiar, well at least a few of them. But you can?t, no one can see this. You just have to believe that it happened, trust me, I?m telling you a story.
As often happens to set a scene of drama this conversation is already half done. But what you missed isn?t important, only what is to come. What is to come is very, very important indeed. The present talker is a young girl; you may know her well, you may not. But you will defiantly know of her.
?It is not our duress to dabble in the affairs of reality.? She says politely. It?s an amazing credit to her as a queen that she can make even insults sound sincere and divine. As she speaks her hands gently shuffle a deck of playing cards, but this isn?t a habit she exhibits when she is nervous, nor when she is talking. More it is a statement of her as a person, the playing cards never leave her hands. Her name is Alice, she is the Queen of Wonderland. Presently she is wearing a long black petticoat with intricate details about its hem. Her feet are adorned by knee high black boots pulled over spidery black leggings. How ever the most impressive ornament on her body is the crown of hearts that sat atop her head. Golden and majestic with a ruby read heart dominating its centre. It was a site of true beauty if one ever did exists, but this you will have to believe me on, trust me; the story is much better if you do.
?My Queen is right, this you know to be true. The matters of humans bother neither me, nor you.? Agreed the Cheshire cat, wrapping himself around Alice?s neck as he spoke; his bell of servitude gently jingles as he eyes off the other contenders around the room.
?You?re looking out side of the big picture again Alice. Though it is a common problem with you.? If seeing a wolf wearing a purple pinstripe suit, smoking a thick cigar, sitting at a table alarmed you; then you can change it to something that you find aesthetically pleasing. But a wolf sat at the table during this conversation, and not just a wolf, the wolf, The Big Bad Wolf. You?ll have to trust me on this, after all I?m telling you stories. As he spoke the wolf removed his matching purple pinstripe fedora with an immaculate white gloved paw and gently scratched his head. Alice didn?t need to glare back, Cheshire did it for her. ?What, like you don?t think Wonderlands isolationist policies are out dated?? Snarled Big Bad. Cheshire hissed in response.
?But the lights are so bright tonight..? ambled the tables third benefactor. You could call him Winky, hell you could call him whatever you wanted. He wouldn?t really care; Winky didn?t notice much of anything anymore. Not since his mind had been crushed, but that is another story for another time. Winky strained his arms against the straight jacket that confined him over the top of his night gown, but he failed to achieve anything. So the luminescent globe of his mind stayed unreachable, dangling before his face in much the same way his night cap draped before his eyes. Then again, to Winky the night cap and the light may have been interchangeable. No one could really tell, not even Winky.
Ignoring Winky?s remark Big Bad continued his assault. ?You are too far behind in the times Alice. Stories are changing, times are changing. If you don?t get with them then you will fall into a legend, a fable.? He smiled at his own humour and it was a smile only a mother could love.
?Stories change over time, as the world they come from changes. But it doesn?t mean stories have the right to openly try to change the world they come from, your whole standpoint is preposterous.? Big Bad waved of Alice?s retaliation like a human would dismiss an irritating fly.
?Alice, I?m not a nice character. You would be the first to agree with that, but you need to see that our world is entwined with theirs, no matter how hard we try to think differently.? Alice sat back, Cheshire still glaring menacingly for her.
Of course when such plots unravel there is always some one present that had all the answers. It wouldn?t be a story if at least some one didn?t know all the answers. In this story it is much the same, and although until now she had remained silent it seemed that the conversation had reached the juncture where not talking was impossible. ?Big Bad is right Alice. Although not as right as he likes to think.? The Story Teller ? as this is the name all knew her by ? had a voice that sounded like honey might sound if it could be heard pouring from the jar. Thick and sweet. A most pleasant experience in the morning, but not limited in its pleasantness just to morning rituals. You?ll have to take my word on this, I?m telling stories.
As the Story Teller spoke she reached for her long pointed witches? hat; as she was indeed a witch and an old fashioned one at that. She insisted on wearing the dramatic long black robes and pointed shoes. It was even rumoured that a pair of red and white stripped stockings covered her legs, but none had ever seen them as the dress flowed low enough to even cover the tips of her pointed witchey shoes. But she wasn?t reaching for her hat to remove it and scratch her head like the Big Bad Wolf had earlier; rather she was reaching for a book that hung suspended on the end of her hat by a long silver chain. If you asked the Story Teller what this book was for she would merely smile, telling you it was where she recorded her stories. But as you will never have the chance you?ll just have to take my word on it. Trust me, I?m telling stories.
It may strike you as hard to believe that a book so small ? and small it was ? could be capable of recording stories. But you would be wrong, for all the Story Teller needed to do was pull on the chain and open the pages to reveal the tomb that lay within the otherwise diminutive book. It may seem improbable that something large can be contained within something small but you?ll just have to believe me on this. It is a story after all.
?Morality takes a plunge when things go from bad to worse. And the subsequent immoral acts take their own toll on our world.? As she spoke the Story Teller flipped through the pages of the book, analysing the different styles of writing that covered its millions of pages; red, green, black, and blue, the styles of hand of a thousand Story Tellers to have come before her. As she read she sighed, analysing each and every moral dilemma and its subsequent action.
The Story Teller looked back at the assembled table to ensure she had all their attention; expect for Winky whom she was sure didn?t even have and attention span anymore, a repercussion of her own moral judgments. ?This is a battle for the world that feeds us directly, and no matter whom wins there will be repercussions to us. I can?t say if they will be good or bad but they will definitely affect us in some way.? She waited tell both Alice and Big Bag had nodded; showing her it was permissible to go on. Winky nodded too but she assumed this was because he was feeling left out of the head rocking game everyone else was playing. ?But if we could some how influence this battle; try and create the outcome that will be most favourable for all of us..? Again the recourse of nods. ?Besides I?m sure we have less agenda then anyone else who would be engaged in such a fight.? Her fingers found the page of the book she was looking for and she mentally marked it so that she would be able to recall it on a whim when the time came; and she knew it would be come soon.
?But how do we influence it?? Mused Alice, the cards shuffled from one hand to the other as if by magic; flipping the deck spades through to hearts, then clubs through to diamonds.
?We go in ourselves? Concluded Big Bad Wolf. This was the resolution he had drawn long ago, but he knew without the Story Teller?s aid he would never have gotten Alice to agree to it.
?But won?t the light burn?? Giggled Winky.
?Yes, we send in a representative.? Concluded the Story Teller
?Then the big question is, who do we use?? Said Winky. His momentary laps into sanity startled the table but they all visually suppressed it.
?I suggest we send White Rabbit. He is noble of heart and a talented knight. Easily one of the safest bets.? Suggested Alice.
?Here, here.? Concurred Cheshire, his tale raising in agreement with Alice?s statement.
?Of course you would want one of your Wonderland cronies to do it.? Snarled Big Bad in response. Alice debated poking her tongue out at him but already Cheshire was doing it for her.
?Then who do you suggest?? enquired Alice.
?Why, Little Red.? Big Bad let the words hang in the air so that they could settle on the ears of every one presently at the table.
?There is now way you are risking that girl.? Alice?s façade of queenly dignity snapped. ?Not after all you have already done to her.? Alice had slammed half of the deck down in each hand, her fingers ready to draw the top two cards.
?She is better then Rabbit and you know it.? Snarled back Big Bad, looming up in his seat as he spoke, his suit now straining to confine the muscles that rippled beneath it.
?Both are wrong. Wrong and wrong again.? Rambled Winky; seemingly oblivious to the tension presently residing at the table. ?Only one can be sent. It must be Jack Nimble.? Alice returned to shuffling the cards, Big Bad returned to sitting on his seat; neither took their eyes off the other.
?No Winky, not Jack Nimble.? Cooed the Story Teller. Jack was the most infeasible suggestion so far, with Jack gone there would be no one to run the law enforcement. You can choose to believe me on whether or not Jack Nimble was the head of law enforcement around here, but you would do well to. After all I am telling stories.
?This is outrageous; we will never come to a decision on who to send as we all already have some one in mind.? Said Alice as diplomatically as she could.
?For once I agree with the girl.? Big Bad Wolf didn?t look at her as he spoke, he wouldn?t give her the satisfaction.
?Well that?s good, as I haven?t suggested anyone yet and I think I have the perfect candidates.? Smiled the Story Teller. Everyone suddenly felt like having breakfast. ?I think we should use my servants.?
?What, Hansel and Gretel?? choked out Alice. She didn?t want to say they were just kids ? although it was true- as that criticism had been levelled at her many times over.
?No. My old servants.?
?But didn?t you send them away; they were disobedient enough even to anger you. How are they our best bet?? Cried Big Bad, who having seen that this diplomatic negotiation wasn?t going to end the way he had anticipated was now quite enraged. The Story Teller just smiled in reply as her fingers flipped back to the page she had sought out earlier.
?Sit back everyone and let me tell you a Story about Jayck and Jyill??
So I know it doesn?t give much away but I promise the one I do after this will actually have the characters in question in it. Cross my heart and hope to die
If you have any questions feel free to pose them to me and I will answer in the best way I can. Most likely Limerick.
If you have any questions feel free to pose them to me and I will answer in the best way I can. Most likely Limerick.