Red Queen

Posthumously Yours

Alice had to tread carefully through the trees. They were leaning far enough over to either side for her to make her way through, but their trunks were still firmly rammed into the earth. By the time she reached the other side of the forest, her clothes were torn, her hands, face and legs were scratched and she had lost a shoe somewhere. Having to climb over the thick, rough trunks had been tiring.

Still, she appreciated their help, as much as they'd given it. She didn't know if all trees in this place had the ability or sentience to both in that way and didn't want to risk coming across more without being courteous to these. Perhaps the rustling of the leaves was the whispering of the trees to each other and word might spread about this obnoxious girl who took what she wanted and didn't acknowledge those she'd stepped over on the way.

Or fallen over. She'd fallen multiple times.

And swore at, but she hoped they'd understand.

"Thank you," she said.

There was a groan of splintering wood and the forest rose upright again. They were once more an army of trees, standing shoulder to branch with one another, waiting for the command to charge or dismiss or whatever trees did.

Alice was in standing at a low picket fence. It stretched each way for a short way before turning and running forwards towards a small house. The building was brightly coloured, with each wall a completely different shade to its neighbour. Even the woodwork in the window frames and doors was painted in stark contrast to the walls it occupied. A high apexed roof sat precariously on top of the house. It seemed out of place on the building, as if it had fallen there one night and couldn't be bothered to either settle there or move on to pastures, and houses, new.

In the garden enclosed by the fence were rows of vegetables. Not having eaten any greens, oranges or reds fresh from the ground for as ling as she could remember - there was that time her mother couldn't find the tin opener so had to rush to the local supermarket for supplies - Alice didn't recognise the leaves sticking up from the ground. She needed a drink. Her mouth could easily have been scuffed against the bark her legs had left skin upon, it was that dry. She hoped whoever lived in the house would be nice enough to let her have some water.

She climbed over the fence. It was low enough that she could practically step over it. A much easier obstacle than the forest. She turned as she moved, stopping suddenly with one leg over and the other still half raised, the toes pointing as though urging her to let them meet back up with the floor.

The forest was gone. The trees had vanished. There was no trace of either wood or leaf. Even the path which had split it in two was no longer present. Alice scanned the ground for signs of route or route. She could see none. Shaking her head, she returned her attention to the house. At least that hadn't disappeared.

Walking through the garden, she looked at the rows of plants arranged perfectly straight in long grooves in the mud. Even the leaves themselves sitting atop each growth matched the one each side. She bent down to move one, the almost regimental parade causing a sense of pain to her more haphazard outlook. As she touched it, the stalk shook violently. She snatched her hand away, looking for an animal of some sort. There was only the mini allotment. She reached out again, pushing the leaves to the side. There was another shake, accompanied by a low growl.

Again, she snatched her hand away.

"I wouldn't do that."

Alice didn't look up. There'd be nobody there so what was the point.

"Why not?" she asked. "Does it bite?"

"Yes," said the voice. "It does. And don't you look at people when they speak to you?"

"There's nobody..."

It wasn't the voice. It was a voice.

Alice looked up. Standing a few feet away from her was a man. Sort of. It was a little hard to tell. He wore black, for a start. Not, that colour gives away gender in the way a name or the tone of a voice but, in this case, the black was all encompassing. Shoes, trousers, long coated jacket, thick goggles, hair and tall hat. All black.

"Hello."

"Hello," said Alice in return. She was staring, she knew, but it was difficult not to. The figure before her was impossibly thin and tall, so much so she felt it would surely wall over if it took a step or be cast to the clouds by an errant breeze. She stood and brushed her clothes down. She held out her hand.

"They do bite," said the person. It's voice - it because she was yet to decide on male or female - was high with a hint of screech and a sliver of a man's rough edge.

She looked back down at the ground. Apart from the unnameable vegetables, it was clear.

"What can?"

"The carron you were just going to touch will bite you."

"Karen? Karen who?" Alice frowned. It was fast becoming a curiously confusing day.

"Not Karen, silly." The man - on closer inspection, her initial thoughts seemed sound - laughed. The sound was musical but with a backbeat of manic. "Carron.as in 'carron'. Rhymes with 'carron'."

"OK!" snapped Alice. She was in no mood for conundrums. Could no-one give her a straight answer? "What is a 'carron'?"

"Why, that there is, of course!"

She shook her head. What?

"The plant?"

"Yes! The plant! It's a carron and it will bite you if you touch it! Why do you think I don't? All those straight lines hurt my eyes, but look what happened when I tried to move them."

He held out his hand, except there wasn't a hand. The arm ended at the sleeve, making Alice recoil, her hand instinctively going back and down to support her. A growl, louder this time, stopped her. She jumped, squealing slightly. The man laughed, pushing his arm forward. A hand emerged from the sleeve, the fingers flexing.

"I was having a little fun, that's all. Don't worry."

"I wasn't worried," retorted Alice. "I was just getting comfortable."

"Of course you were. Not too comfortable, mind. Not next to those little beasties."

"What's a carron?" she asked.

"It's like a carrot but it's fertilised with lion dung."

"Lion dung? It's fertilised with...? What are you talking about? That's not going to make a... a carrot bite!"

"Have you seen the lions around here?"

"Well... No..."

"And nor have I. And I don't want to. Not if they can do that to a vegetable. Tastes nice though. The carron, not the lion."

Alice pushed herself up and faced the man. She stared at him, trying to discern any features in the darkness. He was an oddity - a walking nightcicle but with a sprinkle of wit. His skin, what skin there was visible, was pale as if the darkness of his attire has sucked the colour from the flesh. His eyes hid behind the tinted glass of the goggle. Thin red lines surrounded his mouth, which was formed from a sharp slit in the face.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Professor Posthumous Postlethwaite," he said with an incline of his head which might, given a touch more effort, have been a bow.

"You're quite mad, aren't you?"

"Why, thank you. You're very kind. It has, to be fair, been said on more than one occasion. And who, may I ask, are you?"

"I'm Alice."

He did bow then, a graceful gesture which looked as if the branch of a sapling was bending. It was a smooth slope of the body, dipping low before her.

"Of course you are."