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2023 January Changes
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WONDERLAND - Arthur Chappell 1,209 words It had to be a bad dream, surely. That was all it could be. She had given pursuit to the girl who wouldn’t keep her size under control, and she had banged her head trying to scramble up the rabbit hole surrounded by her army. Now she was unconscious and having this nightmare. She wanted everything to change back immediately and commanded it so to no avail. The cards were ignoring her commands. She wasn’t even sure if they could hear her. “Find Alice!” She insisted. “Off with her head, or I’ll have your heads removed.” The threats proved worthless. Monarchy meant nothing here.
Someone grabbed her now, she felt a giant-Alice sized hand shaking her roughly about, but it was a male Alice. She insisted that he unhand her, but the words existed only in her head. The figure thrust her violently into a pile of other captured cards. She felt as if she might suffocate. She caught a glimpse of a card. It was the Jack Of Clubs. She thought she had wiped out the other three kingdoms… but here they were, prisoners of the Alices. The Queen expressed her pity and called for them to help her escape. No one heard her. No one understood. She could see no visible way out of this mess.
There was a flicker of light. The Jack of Clubs vanished, replaced by a Two Of Diamonds, but he went away as quickly as he had arrived and there was suddenly a spade, and then another Diamond, possibly a three… but it too had moved quickly. The changes seem terrifyingly random, unpredictable. Now there was a more familiar card by her side; her King and husband. The Queen snapped at him. “Do something. Get us out of here. You always were so useless…” The King vanished, his place usurped by a nine of Spades. The Queen regretted her harsh words. She cried out that she loved him, but doubted whether he had heard.
The Queen heard a voice, an Alice voice, rather than a card voice. “Quit shuffling and deal, ‘Arry.”
The Alice called ‘Arry started separating the cards, and throwing them down harshly on to the table, sharing them with three other Alices, Dave Alice, Bill Alice and Steve Alice. The Queen found herself cast face down on a green baize cloth. She felt claustrophobic and frightened. Never had she felt so powerless. The heavy, hairy hands of Bill Alice picked her up. He blew cigar smoke into her face. It was from a smoking stick far more toxic than the Griffin had ever breathed in her presence. Bill Alice clutched her close towards him, afraid to let his companions see what he had in his hand. There were three other cards pressed in around her, but The Queen Of Hearts saw not what they were as they all faced the same way. The other prisoners smothered half of her own face. The Alices exchanged some sort of tokens which they called ‘chips’.
The Queen realized that she was involved in some kind of a game. The Alices played pastimes with their slaves, just as the Queen had played croquet with flamingos and hedgehogs. Oh, they would be for it if they ever invaded her Land again, the real world… A dreadful thought struck her now. What if this was the real World? What if Wonderland was the Dream? No… She had to believe. She was a mighty Queen. She had power. She would escape. Her friends and loyal subjects would come to her rescue. A cat suddenly appeared in her limited line of vision. It was a ginger cat, but it had a complete body and no grin on its face. “Cheshire,” The Queen called. “Cheshire.”. One of the Alices, Dave Alice, she thought it was, picked up the cat and took it out to another room. The other men waited for him to return. He did. Now the game continued. The men were getting excited.
Two of the men said that they were 'folding'. The Queen worried that this meant that they were crumpling up their cards. She dreaded a similar ignoble end for her Royal Dynasty, but after a moment the remaining player, ‘Arry Alice, now identifying himself as ‘The Dealer’, displayed his cards. He had pairs… two fours and two fives. Bill Alice revealed that he had a Royal flush. He held the Queen amidst her Royal court; the King, Jack and Ace were beside her. The Queen was sure that she had executed the Jack over the missing tarts affair, but here he was. As large, or rather, as small as life. Still, it was nice to have the family reunited. The Queen naively and hopefully assumed that victory for the Hearts would mean freedom, but it merely meant that the lion’s share of the stake chips went to Bill Alice, before other games were played, in which the Queen lost all of her family once more, and Bill eventually lost all of his gathered chips to the victorious Dave Alice.
In many games, the Queen Of Hearts was considered too unimportant even to be placed on the table. She was simply left buried in the pack of discarded irrelevant cards, and in other games, she was given serious attention once more. Everything had become so random and fluctuating for her. She hated the Alice World, hated it, hated it, and hated it. She knew now why the Alice girl had dared to try to settle in her world. It was so much better. She knew however that she dared not let them in. All Alices would pay with their heads. She would prepare an invasion force as soon as she got home.
Bill Alice played badly once again. The other Alices took his chips away and laughed at him. “You really lost your head that time,” ‘Arry Alice told him. The Queen looked, but the Bill Alice’s head was still firmly on his shoulders. She wondered how he could lose his head and still have it. This World seemed so illogical to her.
The men were drinking from some strange metallic canisters that they popped open at the top and then crushed up and threw aside once empty. Even the Hatter was more reverential to his drinking utensils. This was sad mad, wasteful behavior. Finally, the slave-ownership game was over. Though the final victor was declared to be Dave Alice, all of the cards and chips were returned to ‘Arry Alice. Dave was rewarded in money as compensation for this strange bartering process. ‘Arry Alice packed all of the cards away into a tiny coffin shaped cardboard box, along with the lonely Joker, cards which had been left behind as irrelevant to the exchange of fortunes among the Alices. The Queen screamed as she was thrust into the midst of the pile and buried away in the little box. “Same time, next Tuesday Lads?” asked; ‘Arry Alice. The other Alices agreed to come back at the appointed time… and the room went quiet. The Queen had nothing to do in the silence now but sleep. She wondered which world she would wake up in. She hoped it was Wonderland, and not this dreadful place….
Arthur Chappell
Looking forward to reading more stories.
Mod
Cheers Rebecca and Glenda - played a few card games but a big fan of the Lewis Carrol books too
Me to Arthur. I co-wrote Leadership in Wonderland, a leadership book featuring the characters in Wonderland.
Mod
The clouds hung low over the expanse of saw grass and scrubby, twisted trees of the steamy Everglades. The billowy clouds were building up quickly to bring the usual tropical deluge. Such was the everyday weather in this new land with the exception of a tropical storm or hurricane, much like the one that carried the bones and cape of Zafrina to old Florida. It was a storm of her making. Power over the elements was her gift as an immortal. The storm originated in Coba in the heart of the Yucatan when the city declared war on Zafrina and her coven of vampires known as the Ancients. The resistance led by princess Melanna tried to eradicate the vampires that had taken over. They succeeded for the most part.
The Dark One was getting bored feeding off of the wildlife and the occasional Indian boy that wandered her way in the Florida Everglades. She happened to come across a Spanish trading post. The owner, Humberto, was curious about the tattered garment that barely covered her.
“Señora, may I help you?”
He offered Zafrina a peasant dress that was made by a local seamstress. She took it from him, but it held little interest to her at the moment. She reached out with her vampire senses to listen to the gusts of wind outside the trading post. Her eyes traveled to Humberto and observed a trickle of sweat traveling down his face and eventually down his neck. From his neck, she noticed his pulsing vein. She inhaled the scent of his blood that pumped through his veins. He took a white handkerchief from his shirt pocket, dabbed at his sweaty face, and smoothed his graying hair.
“Señora? The dress? Is it to your liking?”
“Yes, the dress is just fine, but you have something else that I want.”
Zafrina’s eyes grew fiendishly dark. The dress was tossed on the floor. With the grace and speed of a predator, she pounced on Humberto with her fangs extended. She threw her head back and then forward as she bit into his jugular vein. His screams were quickly silenced as she drank from him. When Zafrina got to her feet, she saw her reflection in an oval mirror that had a “For Sale” tag on it. She stripped herself of her tattered garment which was even more ripped, thanks to Humberto. Using what was left of the garment, she wiped the blood from her face. Now that her thirst was quenched, Zafrina picked the peasant dress off the floor. She slipped it over her head and let it cascade over her full bosom and hips. She ran her fingers through her hair as she admired herself in the mirror.
“You are to die for!” Zafrina said aloud to herself.
It was time to mingle with the natives. Zafrina waited until near sundown to meet up with the closest Calusa Indian tribe to the Southwest. They lived along the West coast since they were a seafaring people.
Night had fallen. The Calusa people were having a tribal dance to entreat their gods to give them a bountiful hunt. Their brave young men danced around a bonfire. With faces painted in white symbols, the dancers held spears in which they jabbed the air in unison during the dance. The firelight made their sweat-soaked bodies glisten as they performed to the beat of drums while they sang. Suddenly the dance came to an end. The spectators gave high-pitched cries like the sound of a flock of crows.
There in the midst as if magically appearing near the fire stood the lone vampire, Zafrina. The tribe let out rumbles of surprise at seeing the beautiful woman before them. The drummers started playing for her as did a flute player. She began to move her body slowly in a strange alluring dance. Could this seductress have been sent by the gods to bid them good fortune? The light from the bonfire made her eyes glow. Her long, dark hair wafted around her in dark, sensual tendrils lending to the mystery of her. With the gracefulness of a snake, her movements were both mesmerizing and beguiling.
Zafrina continued to dance her ancient dance, creeping into the hearts and minds of the weak. To everyone’s astonishment, she started levitating on the flames of the bonfire while she still writhed to the music.
The medicine man, Tecumseh, finally realized that this creature was seducing his people. He approached the bonfire and threw magical herbs into the flames while he denounced the creature. Zafrina shrieked with pain as the smoke from the herbs burned her skin. It was hard to believe that in all of her thousands of years of feeding on the human race, she was finally outdone by a medicine man with a bag of herbs.
“My people, do not be fooled! She is a demon who has come to battle with the Calusa,” cried Tecumseh, trying to rouse them into action.
Zafrina’s anger flared as dark clouds formed above her and lightning flickered. Her face became a mask of hatred. Her fangs extended in hunger. The Indian people scattered at the sight of her. She tackled one of the young dancers and plunged her fangs into his neck. She took two swallows and quickly released him. There were bitter herbs in his blood. Her hands clasped her throat as she choked on the tainted blood. It burned her mouth and throat. This angered her even more. Her face contorted with rage. A shrill scream escaped her mouth as she started ripping humans apart.
While women, children, and elders ran for protection, the young warriors stood their ground. Their bodies quivered and at once they became giant panthers. The leader of the pack, Chief Sakima roared in defiance at the Dark One. Zafrina turned and ran from the camp after seeing that she was clearly outnumbered by a supernatural force. The panthers sprang into action, chasing the quick vampire that to humans would only be seen as a blur. As the panthers gave chase, Zafrina created lightning and hail to try to frighten them. It only made them angrier. It fed their energy as they inched closer to the Dark One, nipping at her long hair and tearing her dress with their claws. Zafrina wanted to put an end to the pursuit. She conjured up a very thick white fog that quickly enveloped the pack. The panthers stopped their chase except for one that lagged behind; he happened to be the youngest. Dichali plunged through the fog alone after Zafrina. Sakima roared his disapproval, watching the brave disappear from sight. Soon there were sounds of a scuffle. A minute later the young panther, covered in his own blood, limped out of the thick fog and sat at the feet of Sakima. The pack members licked the wounds of the younger panther, healing them quickly. The Indians shifted back to their human form and joined their tribesmen who tended to the injured ones. The dead Indians were lain out in the middle of their village near big fires for the night.
An emergency gathering of the council of the elders took place under the large chikee in the center of the village.
“Does anyone know who this intruder was? Speak freely, my brothers,” urged Sakima.
An elder by the name of Hania was the first to speak. His hair was graying with age, but his profile was both regal and masculine.
“It has been rumored that the intruder fell from the sky; that she has powers to create storms at will; and that she feeds on the blood of men.”
This brought mumbles from the council members.
The shifter warrior named Maska was seated with the elders though he was a younger man. His opinions were valued even though he did not speak from a wealth of experience. He was broad-shouldered, handsome, and had long jet-black hair. He said, “It is clear that this bloodsucking demon means us harm. I will not rest until my knife runs red with her blood. Just say the word, Sakima, and we will hunt her down.”
The chief folded his arms as he considered this. He knew that Maska was a man of action.
“Such a campaign would lead to certain death. We will not play her game. We will protect our borders and wait for her to attack.”
An elder named Jolon had just lost two sons to Zafrina’s wrath. He wanted to see her hunted down like the animal she was. “Does anyone else think this is wise? I for one seek revenge for the lives of my sons. Let us hear from anyone else who has lost a loved one.”
Honan looked at the council with sad eyes that were quickly filling with rage. “I lost my wife and daughter to that evil demon. I say that we capture her, put her on a spit over a fire, and eat her like we do our other enemies.”
Some grunted their approval as they nodded their heads.
“Brothers,” said Sakima, “We grieve as one for our lost tribesmen, but we cannot act foolishly. We must do the best thing for the preservation of our people.”
“You will get your chance to avenge your loved ones,” interjected Tecumseh.
“How do you know this?” asked Jolon.
“I have seen it in my visions,” replied the medicine man.
Great vampire and shape-shifter tale - so much action in a short space of time
Mod
Thanks, Arthur. I did go passed the word count 1,000 words which I saw after I posted my story. Oh, well. I didn't want to whittle it down any more than I already did.
mine is longer too as it has been set as a higher word rate before - never noticed it was reduced. Ooops.
Mod
Thank you for the great story, Glenda. There's only one problem: I want to know how the story progresses.
Glenda, it is disappointing that we didn't get more stories. February is another month, though. I assume, since we didn't have a minimum of 3 entries, there won't be any judging? I feel bad for the 2 of you who wrote such wonderful stories. I appreciate you so much!
Mod
Prompts are:
1- Something unseen
2-A message
3-Something shiny or glowing
Story Submissions Close on January 27, 2023. Voting for stories will begin January 28, 2023 to January 31, 2023. The winners will be posted on February 1st, 2023.
Please, email your votes to rebecca.a.lacy@gmail.com
CHALLENGE GUIDELINES
Genre: Fantasy, Thriller, Sci-Fi, Mystery, Crime, Comedy, Romance, or a mixture (BASICALLY, anything but erotica)
Purpose -
Some fiction writers are looking to win a short story contest, keeping in touch with making deadlines, and/or simply sharpening the skill of writing fiction. The main purpose of this contest is to sharpen plot and character skills, collect your own short stories, receive good feedback, make a good connection with other writers, and take a short break from your current novel to get a fresh view when you return to it.
Rules and Directions -
* Type in English - a minimum of 500 words; a maximum of 1,000 words; no erotica, no profanity.
* Post your title, by line, and word count total in the first line of your story posting.
* Writers are responsible for their own copyright. Authors keep all rights. PRIVACY POLICY IS ENFORCED. COPYRIGHTS AND INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY RIGHTS BELONG TO INDIVIDUAL AUTHORS. THIS CONTEST DOES NOT GRANT ANY PERSON THE RIGHT OR LICENSE TO COPY OR USE OTHER STORIES. EACH STORY IS PROTECTED BY THE COPYRIGHT OF THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR.
* ONE entry per person, must be writer's original work, a final revision, and a new piece of writing. Please do not delete and repost since this becomes confusing to the readers. Try to post your final revision.
Judging: The story will be judged on creativity, proper grammar, good punctuation, and overall quality of the story.
Voting: Please vote for first, second, and third place. You are not allowed to vote for yourself. If posting this month, you MUST vote, in order for your story to remain eligible.
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