A soft blue haze fell on the alabaster room. Whether it was from the glaring halogen lights or a hidden machine, she did not know. A fog of breath escaped her painted lips and quickly turned into a lump of ice. It fell to the floor making a harsh shattering noise as it cracked.
Avalon was slowly turning the same color as the light fog that surrounded her. If she took another breath she would die. The breath concoction she had made had lasted a total of five minutes. She needed to get out now with her life. No one would believe her if she was dead. Wonderland would die without her help. She needed to succeed. Either her now or someone else in a few years.
A slow tear dripped down her face and joined her broken breathe on the floor. It was much too cold to survive any longer and her breathe was being wasted. Avalon dropped to her knees with a thump and whipped out a leather-bound notebook. With her feather pen she scrawled out three words. Mirabili est mortuus. She took one last breathe and dropped the notebook out of the smallest crack that she had not been able to fit through. With that she sighed and dropped dead on her back, looking almost peaceful with her blond hair spread out like wings behind her. She would be with the angels now.
YOU ARE READING
Dead Wonderland
FantasyLobster quadrille, dance round and round Will poor Alice ever be found? The fall was a mishap, a drop of fate Drinks drank and cakes ate Holes in the ceiling, and cracks in the wall Who will be the next one to fall?
