Impossible (A HEARTLESS Fanfic)

Chapter Seven

Alice nearly choked on her tears when she turned to find two figures sitting in the shadows of the prison cell. Heart pounding, she took several steps forward, squinting her eyes in an effort to sharpen their outlines.

"Excuse me?" she said.

One of the figures leaned forward, allowing the dim light streaming in from the hallway to illuminate its face. It was a man. A disheveled man who, despite looking relatively young, had silver-white hair that stuck up every which way. Lifting his eyes to her, Alice was taken aback, not by their lavender color, but rather by the madness of them.

"Why," he began again, "is a raven like a writing desk?"

Even with the horrors she had just witnessed still fresh in her mind, the riddle was a welcomed distraction. Never one to turn down a good puzzle, she thought for a moment. Her mind went through every similarity between a raven and a writing desk, and she only gave up when the image of a black raven beheading her guardian was all that popped into her head.

"I do not know," she said, shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of the memory. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

The man scoffed and leaned back into the shadows without another word.

"Are you not going to tell me?" Alice asked.

"No, I am not," he replied.

"Well that's very rude."

"I was asking you a question, my dear girl, not the other way around," he said, sounding rather bored. "It is in fact you who are being rude."

Alice furrowed her brow, thoroughly confused. "But that's not how riddles work?"

He scoffed again. "Are you such an expert? Because, if you were, I'd expect you to be able to answer such a simple question."

"If it's so simple, I don't see why you asked me in the first place."

"Oh stuff and nonsense, it's like talking to a teapot."

"Don't mind him, miss," came another voice from the shadows.

Alice turned her attention to the second figure, and a March Hare came forward, trembling slightly, but sporting a friendly smile. His brown fur was all a mess, and his bloodshot eyes were wide with terror.

"He's quite mad," the Hare whispered, nervously stealing a glance at his companion who appeared to be dozing off.

"Well, madness is no excuse for rudeness," Alice declared, crossing her arms and frowning at the madman.

"You expected to find manners in a prison cell?" the madman mumbled, eyes still closed as he lounged against the stone wall.

"I don't know what I expected to find," Alice admitted. "I never expected to find myself in a prison cell."

"What are you in for?" asked the Hare.

"Stealing one of the Queen's tarts," Alice said. "Allegedly."

The disheveled madman guffawed in the background. "A thief who never expected to find herself in prison?"

"A good thief has faith in her abilities," Alice said.

"Misguided faith it seems."

"And what are you here for?"

"Hattery."

"Making hats is not illegal."

"Depends on the hat."

"What sort of hats were you making?"