Paris in Wonderland (ONGOING)

II - WONDER NOVICE

II - WONDER NOVICE

　 　"Oh wow." plainly said Paris, "Now, I really am grateful daddy gave me the best education I can get. Never trust orders from others."

She watched as the sides of the metal door hiss and melt from the touch of the acidic pink liquid and reveal a new path. At once she took up the little golden key and hurried off to the other side.

It took her another decade before there was something else interesting to see. The glamour she had glimpsed had vanished as if it we're moving along with the partying crowd. The lane wasn't bright anymore: no lights, no music, no people. What happened? Where have that gone off to? What the hell will she do now? Poor Paris! She was lost and alone in a strange place. The brick road lost its zing. It now looked simply old and dirty.

What was stranger was that the longer she remained in the fantastic land, she seem to forget more and more. Once she had to recite to herself her name and age, like a four year old. She convinced herself the purpose of her traverse and the satisfaction it will grant her. After a time, she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance and she anticipated the possibility of a new companion.

She hurriedly walked towards the sound to see who or what was coming. It was his brother in his White Rabbit onesie returning, splendidly dressed, with only one sequined kid-glove in one hand and a black fedora in the other. He came trotting along in a great hurry, muttering to himself, "Oh! the Prince, the Prince! Oh! won't he be savage if I've kept him waiting!" Blanket's little silver whistle continued making shill noises in the air.

　　"The Prince?", Paris thought. Who else can the Prince be if Blanket is technically a Prince, as well her other brother back home? She tried to approach her frantic baby brother but he kept evading her actions and remained fussing himself over the idea of being late. Paris was starting to lose her cool.

When her brother Blanket came near her, Paris began, in a commanding voice, "Prince Michael II, will you come here-" But the fur-clad kiddo started violently, dropped the sequined kid-glove and the hat and skurried away into the darkness as hard as he could go.

　　 Paris took up the hat and glove and put the fedora atop her head all the time she went on talking. "Dear, dear! How queer everything is today! And yesterday things went on just as usual. Was I the same when I got up this morning? But if I'm not the same, the next question is, 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!"

As she said this, she looked down at her hands and was surprised to see that she had put on one of the Blanket's little sequine kid-glove while she was talking. "How can I have done that?" she thought. "Number one: how did it fit me? Number two: why is there only one when gloves should come in pairs? Number three: why does this glove look familiar?"

Sequined glove? Ain't that something memorable? Something in the back of her head kept on nagging her, saying it's an important clue. It was a nudge insisting she not forget. But it wasn't clear to her. Her memories are becoming more and more blurry. Soon, she worried, I'm going to forget what that rabbit's own name is.

The more she remained rooted in her place transfixed in figuring out her sudden amnesiac state, the more she forgot. The name of her dogs, the color of her eyes, the size of her shoes. She got up and went to trace Blanket's prints all the while wearing the item's her brother left behind, still wondering what those could have meant.