“Oh, lala,” I snapped in irritation, snatching up tea cups, hoping one of them had something leftover from who knew when. I didn’t care, I was parched, my tongue so brittle it might snap off if I didn’t get a drink in the next few moments.
“Next week’s tea party will be the biggest ever,” I mumbled, finally finding a teacup with a splash of stale, cold tea lingering in the bottom. Unfortunately, it was poisoned tea from the week before. However, I didn’t realise that until I slid from my chair, becoming a puddle on the ground as I giggled.
I blinked at the sky with a smile on my face. The poison wouldn’t kill me. I’d been poisoning myself far too long for anyone else’s concoction to get the best of me.
“Cheshire needn’t know that,” I whispered, tracing my floppy bow tie with my fingers. The fabric felt so smooth at the moment, like liquid in my hands. I may have successfully made myself immune to most toxins, but that didn’t mean they didn’t affect me.
“Cheshire needn’t know what?” Hare asked. I grunted as a response.
“I was sane once,” I told him, my voice slurring as I gaped up at the sparkling sky.
“Oh not this again,” Hare sighed. He always got so irritated hearing me talk about my past sanity. Perhaps he was jealous. I suppose it was the same as being locked in a cell and me endlessly telling the story of how I was innocent. What did it matter? I was locked up now. Locked up in insanity but I didn’t hate it.
“I made hats. Haberdashery was the family business.”
“No you didn’t,” Hare said, grabbing a tea kettle and taking it inside. Then it was just me in the grass, half poisoned on whatever thing Cheshire put in the tea. There was no way I was moving. My limbs had their own mind at the moment, the fingers petting the grass, my boots tapping together at the toes in an offbeat rhythm.
The faint stench of burnt sugar and moulded cream suddenly seemed pungent. The table needed cleaning. I wrinkled my nose and watched the purple glitter in the sky.
The thunder growled and I sucked in a breath slowly. My body couldn’t will itself to a panic though. I was too sedated. I blinked at the clouds and saw a massive shadowed shape–wings unfurling in a terrifying size.
The birds started screaming, rattling around in my ears. Their noise was a terrible cacophony of sharp notes warbling into faster speeds. But I held on to that alarm, willing them to keep going.
The birds would stop for two reasons. If the beast in the sky had moved on, or if he was much too close and they had to silence themselves to hide. My fingernails dug into the dirt as I took shallow breaths. The beast circled above me. It was an agonising moment, infinitely lengthened by the poison inside me that was stretching time like taffy.
The shadow turned and moved further and further away. Hare came bouncing from the house around the same time the birds stopped. He always acted as if he didn’t hear them. It was maddening. I knew he heard them but for some reason, he wouldn’t admit it.
“You hear the birds?” I asked.
“What birds?” He asked back and I grumbled.
“Next week’s party–” my sentence was cut off by the broken clatter of porcelain as Hare indelicately dropped the teapot on the table.
“Next week’s party is going to last all week.”
“Is it?” Hare asked.
“Yes,” I hummed from the ground. Hare peered over the table at me.
“You’ve been awfully paranoid lately though. Going on about the beast in the sky who’s after you.”
“Uh…” I didn’t know what to say. When put like that it made me sound bonkers. I scratched at my red curls.
“Are you sure you want a big tea party?” He asked.
“Yes,” I insisted grumpily. He humphed, unbelievingly. “You are such a bore sometimes,” I snapped.
“Oh, it’smethat’s the bore?” He asked back with an attitude. I gasped loudly.
“Are you suggesting I’ve become boring?” I asked in offence.
“Depends. Are we having a true party or are you going tokeep it small,” he used his little paws to quote the words, "Because of theMambernooki.”
“It’s Jabberwocky and shh,” I hissed, my eyes darting to the sky as if the monster would be summoned from saying its name.
“Nonsense.” Hare lifted his teacup to his mouth. A sly smile slid over his mouth as he took a sip. “But I do like nonsense.” I smiled back, warmth filling my chest. This is why Hare and I got along so well. We infuriated each other but quite liked that.
“Yes, you do.”
