Flash Fiction Fridays: Child's Play Continues


Sometimes, things just come together with no advanced planning or scheduling. I like to call these moments gifts from the writing gods. And the month of June here on Flash Fiction Fridays is one such gift. Each of these flash pieces harkens back to childhood, whether through old bedtime stories or mythical beasts of imagination.

This week, do we dare to go down the rabbit hole with Kayla Bashe?

The Last Alice
by Kayla Bashe

My name is Alice. I am twelve years old. I am the last Alice in England. All the others are dead.

I never wear blue, although I have been told that the color would suit me. This is precisely why I avoid it. I have never had a cat, a hair ribbon, tea with sugar or tea without. My mother lives in an asylum in London; she is the only mad person I have ever met.

The only impossible thing I believe, before breakfast or afterwards, is that I have inexplicably managed to survive.

The Queen cast her curse in the sixteenth year of her region, a good four years prior to my birth. For the world has a sort of cellar, you see, and that cellar has a roof- and that roof was so full of holes, it was a matter of mere months and moments before it crumbled like a biscuit in one's fist. While it was the white rabbits who dug the holes, the real problem was the Alices. They could slip between worlds just as easily as falling asleep, widening the holes into untenability, and no sooner had the Queen sent one away than another would slide in to take her place. Therefore, the curse was as follows: All Alices were drawn to Wonderland, there was clearly no way around that — but they would travel there only once in their lives, for the journey would  end with their death. She would see to it herself, if need be.

It is in the nature of a rabbit to dig holes. It is in the nature of an Alice to fall down them. And it is in the nature of Wonderland to ensure that none of us, no matter how much we wish to, can go against ours.

I have displayed careful vigilance. In recent years, I have not even left my room.

Yet what is the point, I sometimes wonder, of a life without any pictures or conversations?

Kayla Bashe is a student from New Jersey. Her work has appeared in YARN, Raphael's Village, Doctor Fantastique's Show of Wonders, and Yesteryear Fiction. She also is a contributor in the upcoming in Vagabondage Press' "Love Notes" anthology. Recently, she self-published a children's book, Ivy Gets Healthy. Last year, Kayla attended the Alpha SF/F/H Workshop for Young Writers. In addition to writing, she enjoys musical theater and curating the extraordinary. Find her at http://twitter.com/KaylaBashe.


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