Down the Rabbit Hole

“That’s up to you.”


“Back to Molly.”

“Possibly. Eventually.”

“No, I mean: back to Molly. If this journey is up to me that’s where I want to go. Back to Molly.”

From somewhere deep in the bowels of Candy’s Costumes came a muffled growling noise—caged beast or ancient furnace, it was hard to tell. A disturbing, worrisome sound no matter its source, though Zorro seemed unconcerned.

“Then let us begin. We must hurry.” He swerved left again at the end of the rack. She followed.





CHAPTER TWO




“Ah!” Elise came face-to-face with a giant Cat in the Hat—very authentic looking and much taller than Zorro. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes! And, I guess, you must know what this means. We mix your dreams and my schemes, with some baffling talk. But before you can run, you must first learn to walk.”

“Rhymes? Seriously?”

“For as long as it takes, and with lots of mistakes.”

“That’s not makeup . . . or a mask.”

He did a couple of facial contortions and then waggled his brows—it looked pretty real to her. “It’s a magical face, like this magical place.”

“Are you . . .” She couldn’t make herself say it, and so took another track. “Are you still Martin? Can . . . can I still call you Martin?”

“Or Bill or Will or Jon or Don; if you want me to I’ll try them all on. But if one is the same as all the rest, Martin’s the one that I like the best.”

“Is that part of the deal, then? Do you have to keep changing?”

“I do. So do you. It’s just part of life. We do it to handle the pain and the strife.” Her stare was vapid. He chuckled. “Come on, get in gear. You’ve nothing to fear. Together we’ll figure your way out of here.”

“God, that’s annoying.”

“I know and it’s slow. It’s a tough way to learn. Just follow directions; it’s your turn to turn.”

“My turn to turn . . . into that? I don’t think so.”

“I’m already taken, there’s just one of me. First feel it—then think it, and soon you will see, it’s all up to you as to who you will be.”

She squinted at him, thoughtful. It was startling to realize how clearly she was thinking inside her not-damaged, not-insane, not-hallucinating but clearly not-normal state of mind.

“So, I decide on what I’m feeling and then I think about it—and I’ll change. Like you do.” She looked him up and down. “What on earth were you thinking?”

“Of you, that’s who. To get your attention and to add some dimension. What you feel is the deal; you must know it is real.”

“If this really works will you change into something that doesn’t rhyme or talk in riddles?”

“If you will it, I will.”

“Okay.” Elise looked down, searched for her strongest emotion—and when nothing changed, she lifted her gaze back to his. “Is this a joke?”

“Think and blink.”

She blinked instinctively, several times, before she could stop thinking about blinking and settle down to concentrate on what she was feeling. It helped to not look at him . . . or his big hairy cat feet. Her lids slid slowly over her eyes to close them out.

“No better than that, for the Cat in the Hat?” There was disappointment in his voice.

She opened her eyes and gasped at the black and white convict stripes that covered her all the way down to the ugly low-top, canvas, triple-Velcro prison sneakers on her feet. She huffed out an astonished laugh and glanced at his annoyed expression.

“What. It worked. I feel like a prisoner. What did you expect?”

He put his hand over his heart. “The real questions you keep, have answers more deep. The better you ask, the shorter the task.”

“If it takes me more time, will you run out of rhyme?”