#adventuresofalice

[amlitlover]

Alice in Wonderland published today in 1865

Lewis Carroll's abridged version (his sketches) published 1864, a year before his most famous book about Alice. https://americanliterature.com/author/lewis-carroll/book/alices-adventures-under-ground/summary

[casualscribe]

breakfast at alice's

"Fuck."

Alice bent over to pick up the spatula. Circular globs of batter happily charred away as she ran to the sink to rinse. "Shit. They're burning. Fuck." She scrambled back to the portable grill.

Tendrils of smoke drifted lazily through the cabin. She turned the cakes over - burned but not inedibly burnt - and the grill hissed. It was angry at her for denying the satisfaction of ruining breakfast. She ran to open the kitchenette window. The sizzling berated her as she slammed her palm upward against the windowpane. It wouldn't budge. Paint and wood and time had formed an unholy matrimony, the bonds stronger than a woman's upper body strength.

Alice bent her knees and leaned. The additional leverage drew out a pained groan and creak from the window, divorcing itself from what was surely a stagnant affair. Pancakes continued to burn.

Alice exhaled and reached for a dusty glass in the cupboard. She let the water run before rinsing out the years of particulate and topping off her cup. She took a sip of well water and paused, finally really looking at the rustic cabin in the morning light. It was simple: living space and kitchenette in one with a bar counter separating the two, bedroom with memorable cold metal legs, and a bathroom with a step-in shower that Alice still had reservations about.

She set her cup down and massaged her wrist, walking back over to the sadistic electric grill. Layering six steaming hotcakes, she carefully plated the last of the morning's breakfast. "I'll let him tidy up the mess," she thought to herself. After everything she had dealt with that morning, it seemed only fair. One does not usually need a Harry Houdini re-enactment to relieve themselves in the morning, let alone surprise their lover with the one meal Alice really knew how to make.

Besides, he didn't mean to fall asleep. The sex was just that good - she knew. A smirk transformed into a grin, the gateway drug for a giggle as she shook her messy auburn curls in amusement.

Alice was happy. She shook out her wrist and began setting the table.

[casualscribe]

a thing I wrote

​She brushed the hair out of her eyes with a free hand.

The other was comfortingly snug in the leather cuff, which was tethered to the leather line, tightly wound and knotted around the cold metal bed frame. Very un-leather.

She frowned.

Looking down, she took stock of the situation. Her ankles were bound. Inconvenient. Looped in a figure eight three times - or was it four times, she couldn't make it out - around each ankle was a uniform cotton rope. The ends snaked around and up, tying snugly into a knot that rested atop the lattice. Looped around the ankle binding was another leather line. Another leather line that was married to an equally cold metal leg.

She seemed to be in some kind of padded room. Streaks of sunlight cut through the bleary haze of waking up and finding yourself in cuffs and rope. Minute particles of dust floated in the light, almost hesitating to fall lest they break the stillness.

Alice sighed. The dust danced in the light.

She squinted towards where she assumed the door was. The heavy oaken door was cracked - but not enough to see out. It was just as well. She would open that door when she came to it.

Oddly shaped, colored objects leaned up against the far wall. They looked like large, abstract, plush puzzle pieces that never would quite fit together in any satisfying way. Alice's mind was swimming, taking in the splashes of color in an otherwise grey landscape. She briefly pondered how she knew that the red object had deceptively ergonomic properties.

Craning her neck, a lock of auburn blocked her view again. She brushed it aside and peered into the far corner. There was a wooden looking chest, with what appeared to be a dangling strap hanging out.

She felt the leather cuff with her free hand, inspecting it for weaknesses. Her bounded palm was up, hiding the fastening mechanism from view. She reached around to unclasp the strap when she paused. More cold metal. She was getting tired of metal.

A tiny padlock hung innocently from the fastener.

In a way, she smirked, her free hand was the freest thing about her. And yet it was just another device to remind her of how trapped she was. Like a creature in a cage that searches for every means to escape, she had been baited and fooled by the illusion of freedom.

Alice took a deep breath. She smelled sweat, iron and something else. Something she couldn't describe, but she knew it intimately. An experience she recognized as immediately as the visions of the past 6 hours flooded her memory.

That was also when she noticed the man softly snoring next to her.