Alice is holding my hand as we traverse the street towards a brightly lit blue sign. There’s a group of people forming a line in the dark. We pass them since Alice has a VIP pass. Inside the mood is ominous with strobe lights intermittently illuminating the corners of the club. The crowd is sparse, but more people are flooding through the entrance. I’m not sure what music is playing, but it’s loud. Wonderland is still new and mysterious to me. The lights went out and the crowd starts cheering. The band enters the stage. The lead singer is tall, with brown hair and blue eyes. The members look like office clerks. As they start playing, the singers’ dancing captivates me. He moves like he’s having an epileptic fit. Alice’s red hair swirls in front of me with ferocious manic intensity. Flashing images light up behind the band. Stills of nazi paraphernalia, swastikas, emaciated prisoners and mass graves. I am completely bewildered by the lights and images, and feel close to fainting. The lead singer pulls up a chair to the center of the stage where a noose is hanging. As he ties the noose around his neck he proceeds to kick out the chair. The cord stretches tight and breaks. I see a bright flash in my mind and the world evaporates from my vision.
Chapter 1
The corridors of Riverside’s psychiatric facility remind me of a white maze. I walk along the halls mumbling to myself, passing windows and doors until I find my room. Inside the radio is playing softly. The sheets are clean and white. I took a Valium half an hour ago and the effects are kicking in. My thoughts become abstract and dreamy. My mood stabilizes while my anxiety gets washed away like tears in rain. I lay down in my bed and wrap myself in the heavenly sheets.
“Matthew, it’s time to take your medication.”
The psychiatric nurse stands astutely in the doorway. Her long brown hair cascades over her bony facial features, obscuring her right eye. I take the little white cup and wash the pills down with some water.
“Thank you, I’ll try to get some sleep now, I’ve been up all night.”
As she closes the door I lay on my back. I’m not actually planning on sleeping. Sleep is a little death, and I don’t plan on dying in this lifetime. There are many aspects of sleep I hate, but mainly the dreams. After a stressful or anxious day, my dreams turn into horrifying sequences. Often I wake from them disgruntled and morose. There’s a dream from my childhood that strikes me as significant. My precious dog got swept up by a gust of wind and fell to her death. The panic I felt watching her fall was overwhelming. Do dreams have any underlying subconscious meaning? Or are they just the product of an overactive mind trying to prevent REM sleep? I’m not well read when it comes to Freudian psychoanalysis, but I’m inclined to believe they’re the product of the thoughts, feelings, moods that we experience throughout the day. Did I mention I’m an epileptic? That’s not the reason I was admitted to this psych ward, but it bears mentioning. Sometimes I posit the idea that we exist to suffer. I certainly do. My whole life has been a torment. I had my first grand mal seizure at 8 years old, and was diagnosed later that year. A grand mal seizure is like an orgasm. Your mind goes blank, but instead you lose consciousness. Often you wake up hours later with a severe headache. There’s other symptoms, sometimes you experience a prolonged sensation of deja vu, you lose your ability to speak and stare off into dead air, unaware of the passing of time. Sometimes there’s a strange smell. Anyways, I was admitted to this psychiatric facility because of my depression. Earlier I mentioned I wasn’t planning on dying, that’s not completely true. I wrote this letter. A farewell letter, and took some pills. I was very tired. Sometimes I’m like that, though no one can explain why. My life seems like a conundrum. An endless riddle of problems and difficulties which God(if there is a God) assigned to me. I was born to suffer. Though it’s very true that many have it worse, and I should be grateful for the clarifying thoughts I receive at times that remind me my life could be worse, but that doesn’t change the fact that I suffer. But we all do. My mind is a maze, I try to navigate the darkened corridors with a flashlight. Somewhere inside the minotaur is hiding. What am I searching for? A memory. Something to lighten my mood. A lover perhaps. I’ve never been in a proper relationship, which I desperately need to be. A companion to drag me from the abyss and into sunlight. I’m so lost, but so is everyone. Are they? I don’t think you can truly know another person or yourself. What is there to know? My opinions change from day to day, my mood too, especially my mood. Sometimes I feel so happy, so excited, ready to take on the world and conquer the universe. Then I fall, and I fall so hard into the abyss. I’m lost in darkness. I can touch it. The darkness that is. I used to call the darkness depression, but that doesn’t define it properly. It is something inside myself, some defect, something which no one can yet define. Maybe a thousand years from now, when the psychiatric discipline has evolved from its present infancy. Existence is suffering, that’s how I see it. We exist to suffer. Some do more than others, but no one more than me. That’s not true. Is it? We exist to suffer.
It is night when I wake, I must have fallen asleep from the valium. The radio is still playing. I hate contemporary music. That’s not completely true, I’m not a philistine. I just detest the vanity inherent in contemporary culture. That sounds like something a teenager would say, but it’s true. I don’t fit in anywhere. I’m the definitive outsider. I can’t relate to anything or anyone.
The white walls feel oppressive as music floats through my mind. I pass the music room, and the cafeteria,when a strange white rabbit trails the corridors in front of me. I start chasing it at an increasing pace. I’m following down the hallway, when suddenly it leaps into a room, Room 206, my room. As I enter it’s empty, I notice a mirror on the wall and gaze at my own puzzled expression, I’m dressed in white robes. I’m alone in a darkness of white.
The rain beats down on the asphalted ground. I’m sitting by the outdoor section exhaling smoke into the air. I’m the only patient who enjoys this nasty habit. The sky is cloudy, gray, and reflects my mood accurately. Sometimes I dream of escaping. Not the psychiatric facility, but my life. I read about a folk singer from the 60s who abandoned her life. She just got into her car and drove off into the distance without telling anyone. Just disappeared. That strikes me as incredibly romantic, and what a relief. She never had to say goodbye, no one knows if she’s dead or alive, she’s just… gone. That’s how I want to leave my loved ones. To just run away. Who knows what I might find in the distance. I see a secluded cabin in my dreams. It’s tiny, primitive, dark, with a fire brooding in the corner. The area outside is covered in snow, with scattered birches protecting me from any gazing eyes.
As I step outside the white walls of Riverside Hospital I light a cigarette and cross the street quaintly. I catch a reflection of myself in the store windows, the face looking back is surprisingly refreshed. The sensation in my mind is indeed a feeling of rejuvenation. This wasn’t my first stay at the psychiatric ward but I enjoyed my stay more this time. The halls were surprisingly vacant, the meals well cooked, and the staff not too intrusive. I check my phone for texts and find one from Maccman.
“Welcome back to sanity, I hope you’re feeling better. Meet me at my place tonight.”
I step into a cannabis cafe and order a beverage. The joint is rolled in my pocket. I light it and take a drag. Smoke moves like clouds around the ceiling. The cafe is quite crowded, though no familiar faces. Everyone’s stoned out of their minds. Laughter and tired red eyes are abundant. My eyes linger on a man in a white outfit sitting alone, by a corner of the cafe. He’s staring right at me and meets my gaze. I feel slightly perplexed and uncomfortable. As I take a drag and exhale he mimics my movements as If in a reflection. A sensation of deja vu washes over my senses when he suddenly rises from his seat and exits the cafe. I leave my chair and try to pursue him, but when I exit the door the streets are vacant and empty, still..
Maccmans eyes remain quite surreal as he suffers from heterochromia. I blow smoke into the air and stare at his left eye which is a sealike green, while his left is a transparent blue. I dump ash into a black tray.
“What did you do there? You were gone for quite some time.”
I close my eyes and focus on Grace Slick’s vocals and the psychedelic instrumentation which blares from the vinyl stereo. The music moves through my body like waves caressing a river bank.
“Take the pills, talk to the doctors, eat, sleep, shit. Just the usual.”
“Did you talk to any of the other patients?”
I lean back on the sofa and stare at the cracks in the ceiling.
“You know how I am, I try to keep to myself.”
Maccman turns on the tv and sifts through the channels.
“Nothings on these days. Who even watches TV anymore.”
I gaze at the lingering image of Jake Gyllenhaal, he’s teaching a class on the soviet union.”
“What would you do if you met yourself? Just arbitrarily, in a store or cafe?”
Maccman turns to me with an amused expression.
“You might’ve smoked a bit too much man.”
Stephanie looks quite youthful in her white dress as she arrives at the Thirsty Crow. I’m sitting by the bar nursing a beer when she takes a seat beside me.
“God, I can’t stand the traffic in this town. It took me 20 minutes to find a parking spot.”
My eyes glaze over her figure which seems quite blurry.
“Matthew you look wasted, how much have you had to drink? It’s only 3 in the afternoon.”
“I got tired of waiting for you.” I say sluggishly
Stephanie reaches into her pocket and fishes out a cigarette.
“You can smoke in here right?”
I nod slowly and take a sip from my glass.
The hours pass quickly as Stephanie and I continue conversing while progressively getting more wasted. The jukebox is playing a Tom Waits tune but I can’t pinpoint which one. One of his earlier songs.
“Matthew, I want you to know that I’m worried about you. You haven’t had the easiest time these past few months.”
I stare at my glass and remain silent
“You know with all the fits and staying at the psych ward. I want you to kn…”
“Can we please talk about something else?” .
“I just want to have a good time. Not be reminded of my messed up life.”
Stephanie looks at me slightly perplexed.
“Sure, sorry. I just…” I
“I know, I know. You’re worried. But I’m fine. Truly. Can I get another glass of bourbon?”
I look across the room at the bartender who fills a glass and slides it across the table. I glance at her arm where a strange tattoo is imprinted. It looks like a white rabbit. I feel the deja vu wash over my senses before a jolt goes off in my skull like a blast from a gun.
“Matthew?? Holy shit!”
I wake mere minutes later to a severe headache. I’m laying on the floor of the bar. As I raise myself into a sitting position, I glance across the room and see everyone staring at me.
“Matt… are you alright?”
I rub my temples and close my eyes.
“Yes, yes… I know I shouldn’t drink so much. It triggers seizures. I need to get some air.”
Stephanie walks me out of the bar and into the busy street.
“I should go home. I need to rest for a while.”
Stephanie pats my back.
“By the way, did you see that bartender’s tattoo?” I ask as I look through the window of the bar.
“No? What are you talking about?
“N…nothing. It’s nothing…”
Stephanie and I part ways by the corner of Oxford Street. I look over my shoulder and the image of a short, blond woman stumbling down the sidewalk in the blistering autumn sun is imprinted in my memory.
At home I feel the exhaustion weighing on my mind. After closing the door I lay in my bed and light a cigarette. The smoke reaches the ceiling while my mind wanders through the corridors of the past. Memory after memory fills my skull until I linger on a mental image of the rabbit tattoo. What did it represent? Was it a hallucination? I remember the white walls of the psych ward and the rabbit running past the floor. Was it a dream? Did it really happen? Sometimes my mind conjures hallucinations but it struck me as particularly vivid. Like a waking dream. Like the deja vu that washes over you when you’re about to have a seizure. I’ve been having them more recently, the seizures. Just when you think you’re free from them they reappear. Like the rabbit.
I wash my face in the sink and glare at my tired expression in the mirror. Reaching for a razor I press it against my wrist. The darkness inside me is brooding like a storm at midnight. I carve the word NOW into my arm and let the blood drip on the floor. Wrapping my arm up with towels I sit on the edge of the bed and feel the tears stream down my face.
Waves crash against the side of the ship. The storm is brooding fiercely while the mast sways in opposite directions. The sky is black with hints of gray combusting clouds. Lightning strikes terrify me, and I’m sure we’re going down into the depths of the ocean. I can’t see any passengers or crew members when I gaze around the ship. Looking into the distance I see a remote island not too far away. Water floods the ship as I’m cast overboard into the ocean. I’m being swallowed by waves that lick my body clean. When I go under the surface I let the currents drag me into whatever direction they please. As I’m washed ashore on a beach I cough violently and exhale seawater from my lungs. Laying down on the sand I notice the storm is fading. The air is surprisingly peaceful, with birds chirping in my periphery and light beginning to beam through the clouds. Looking out at the coast I notice the ship is still intact, and sailing across the horizon. When I close my eyes I feel content and happy, lost in an Eden.
The clock strikes 5 in the morning when the birds wake me with their singing. I live out in the countryside in a small farmhouse, removed from much of civilization. I throw on a navy jacket and head out for a walk. The air is dark and the mood solemn, I momentarily gaze at the windows of the villas scattered by the winding road. I imagine the lives of the people inside. I feel restless and empty, like a jigsaw puzzle with a missing piece. The hills roll out across the barren landscape, they ebb and flow, with scattered English Oaks obscuring the fields. This must be my Eden. My sanctuary. These morning walks keep my fragile mind intact. I dream of moving somewhere far into the distance, yet I know I don’t belong there. I belong wherever I currently am. There is no perfect place to exist. We’re all aimless and adrift wherever we are. The road leads me into a darkened forest. An arctic fox crosses my trail and runs into the fields. I see a single star in the dark blue sky when I lift my gaze. I follow the road into the depths of the woods and then out into an open field. The grass is tall and sways majestically in the wind, I feel the breeze touch my hand. A little further now and I reach the edge of the coast. I gaze at the water and feel tearful. My mind wanders and I imagine myself wading into the black sea, slowly trudging through waves until I can’t swim anymore, and falling to the ocean floor where I die, hopeless, alone, cold and broken. My body will be a carcass for the fish to eat.
Lifting my gaze I notice a ship crossing the horizon, it’s large and slowly fades into the distance. There is no reason for me to stay somewhere I don’t belong. As the light beams and the sun begins to rise I turn from the water and head back home, where I can exist, at least momentarily.
.
Chapter 2 –
.The claustrophobic darkness in which I rest is suffocating. It must be a grave, I’m sure of it. The four walls that surround me seem to close in on my body as the minutes drag on. The only thing keeping me from panicking and losing control completely is the fact that I am sure that I am dreaming. I clench my fist and try to break the wood above me but my force is diminished. It feels like I am punching underwater. Suddenly my power is regained as I strike with all my might and break the wood ceiling of the grave. I crawl through mountains of dirt and arrive at the surface. Sand stretches around me for miles until the horizon. Suddenly I turn and face a giant pyramid. I walk through the dunes and arrive at the entrance. The interiors of the pyramid are completely darkened. I search my pocket for a pair of matches which illuminate the walls allowing me to see the esoteric Egyptian artwork. I sift through the artwork and see a doorway leading into a connected room. This must be the pharaoh’s tomb.. I walk up to a grave with a glass skeleton inside. Suddenly my match burns my fingers and I drop it on the floor, submerging the area in darkness. A deep, trembling voice emerges from the dark
. “I have been expecting you. For centuries I have been resting in this tomb, waiting. As you might have already expected, you’re dreaming. I have much to explain but now it is time for you to wake. Do not fear, I will reveal my motives in time. Greet the dawn with exhilarating joy, you have been chosen from millions of candidates to
complete this mission. The journey that lies before you is long and treacherous. Until we meet again
Chapter. 3 The Note
“I found it after I woke up this morning.”
Maccman examined the note with a surgeon’s precision. A white rabbit was imprinted on a square piece of paper with the number 44 on the back.
“Someone must have slipped it into your pocket. It looks like an invitation to a nightclub of some sort.”
After placing the note on the table I leaned back in my chair and shot Maccman an inquisitive look.
“Maybe there’s like a secret society somewhere nearby? You know, with illicit activities.”
“That would be dope, but I doubt it.”
I placed the note in my metallic cigarette case.
I miss my youth, it feels like I’m existing in an endless winter.
Maccman trailed the sidewalk with excitement. He slipped the metallic case from my pocket and lit a cigarette on fire. We continued conversing as the darkening sky above showed its protruding glimmers of glowing starlight when finally the day came to an end.
I’m a creature of the night. Much like vampires I abhor the sun and need a stake driven through my heart to finally perish.
We arrived at the Black Whale and left our jackets at the door. Maccman sauntered to the bar and ordered two shots. I lit a cigarette in the outdoor section and through the scattered branches of a willow tree I saw a falling star and wished to feel happy again.
The hours blurred into one another as the gloomy fog of alcoholic haze thickened.
“Man, this place is dead. At least the music isn’t too loud.” Maccman leaned back in his chair and looked at me with a defeated and tired demeanor.
“Should we leave?”
Both of us rose and fumbled towards the exit. The night was eerie during the winter season, giving the city a nightmarish texture. Maccman and I parted ways at Oxford street and I trailed toward the station to take the train to the nearest beach. Yes, I want to see the water before I die. I fished the paper note out of my pocket. Written in red ink. I arrived at the station in a tearful mood. As the train edged closer I resisted the urge to jump onto the tracks. Finally as it stopped I got inside and took a seat in the vacancy and stillness of the cart. Not a person in sight. I fumbled with my metallic case when I reached for a cigarette and the note fell to the floor. I gazed at the image of the white rabbit with a sickly feeling inside.
Matthew doesn’t know how long he stayed in the train cart, as the minutes stretched to hours, to days, to weeks, he finally lost track of time. Through the windows he saw first a barren field, then the train seemed to travel over water, finally a desert emerged where Matthew felt a quaint recollection, like he had been here before, in some far lost time. His gaze was impaired by the sandstorm though he could spot peaks of dunes and wastelands. As he looked the door to the engine room opened and the driver stepped out into the desolate cart.
“May I see your ticket, please?”
Perplexed, Matthew gazed at the driver’s sunken gray eyes, then down to his thin lips, which were slightly covered by a black mustache.
Fumbling through his coat pocket he retrieved the metallic case and showed the ticket to the strange man. After examining the note, the driver walked over to the door connecting to the next cart and vanished.
“Next stop. Wonderland. 10 minutes.”
The voice booming through the intercom was nasal and shrill, almost a sinister inflection. Matthew gazed out the window a last time and saw buildings emerging, then roads, more cars. Finally, Civilization.
“Who am I?”
Part 2. Welcome to wonderland
As Molloy stepped outside the train cart his eyes trailed the edges of the tall buildings. What struck him was that there were no windows. Puzzled, he wandered down the connecting avenue like a lost sheep.
The city square was crowded. Looking through the gray silhouettes of ordinary townsfolk Molloy spotted a platform which had been erected. The mood was forbidding, much like the silence and anticipation of the audience. The hangman wore a black mask over his face, and in his right hand he maintained a firm grip of the executioner’s switch.
“For the crime of insubordination. For dishonoring the eminence of this great nation. We sentence you to death.”
The hangman pulled the switch and as the neck of the man distinctly broke the audience cheered with excitement.
Chapter 5
Alice walked the streets in a daze, high on a mixture of codeine and cocaine. Walking along the dimly lit streets she felt a sense of ambivalence, she no longer cared if she was spotted or caught. Wonderland had a strict policy of no tolerance towards drugs not officially distributed by the state. One of the drugs distributed was K. A horrifying concoction, essentially a nightmare elixir which left the users brain dead and disfigured. She would rather blow her head off than use that. Which, in time, she might. The control Wonderland kept over its citizens was downright total. Even while sleeping the nefarious command of the state invaded your dreams, reminding you that there was no escape, even in death. No one knew how old Wonderland was, some theorised the state had always existed, from the inception of the panet, laying desolate for millennia’s whilst waiting to be populated. Alice didn’t know her age, checking her face in a store window she approximated she was in her 20s, though no one in wonderland had a birth certificate. She remembers few details from her youth, except for the internment camp she was born in. Her mother was a brisk lady with brown hair and green eyes who cherished her daughter, when she was allowed to spend time with her. The last mental image Alice remembers of her was the look of bewilderment and fear in her eyes as the executioner pulled the switch and the cord stretching, then the subsequent twitching of her left foot. That was the day the notion of rebellion was implanted in Alice’s mind. She swore she would have her revenge on the state, she would break free of the shackles which imprisoned her mind, and if she didn’t escape, she would at least cause trouble.
“The inclination toward freedom is the single most crucial human instinct.”
Alice jotted down the phrase on a white napkin before she took a sip from her coffee cup. Glancing across the cafe she noticed how vacant and still the atmosphere was, with only a single customer sitting in a distant corner, to the left was the elderly barista cleaning the counter. Alice spat out a piece of gum she was chewing and stuck it to the note which she placed under the black table.
“Are you enjoying your day off, Alice?”
The barista glanced in her direction while washing a stained cup in the sink.
“More or less.”
“Not in the mood for conversation?”
Alice attempted to conceal her left hand in the pocket of her jacket since it was shaking profusely. Her pinpoint pupils focused on Frank who placed the newly cleaned cup on a shelf.
“Not much to talk about. The days blend into one another until they all seem identical. I need a change of scenery. Perhaps a vacation.”
Though Frank sympathised he recognised the futility of Alice’s situation.
“Good luck with that, the last person who tried to take more than a week off was placed in K9.”
K9 was one of the stricter internment camps, reserved for insubordinates, addicts, political enemies.”
Strewn across the table was a copy of the Looking Glass, Alice turned the pages to a headline that made her pause.
“Political Insurrectionists bomb a local advertising agency killing several employees.”
Alice had long dreamt of joining the Cheshire Cats, the largest insurrectionist group in Wonderland. Though the group had a long and arduous application process which required the applicants to submit to deprogramming which would reverse Wonderlands indoctrination. Still, Alice was adamant about joining, no matter the cost.
The government’s eyes were everywhere. Neatly placed in every citizen’s pocket was a model 9 smartphone. The camera was constantly watching, the microphone constantly recording, every waking and sleeping moment of a person’s life was monitored by the “name of agency.” Concealing the camera was a crime as was leaving it unsupervised.
Molloy was unsure where he was. Hours had passed since he witnessed the man being hung from the gallows. The streets seemed uneven and twisted, like a nightmare. The stars twinkling in the sky reminded him of home, a place he dearly missed. He passed store windows and crosswalks, all empty of people. In the distance he noticed a car approaching, the headlights illuminated the streets, and Molloy felt a sense of unease. Stepping into an alleyway he hid against a brick wall waiting for the car to pass. As the car slowly faded into the distance Molloy looked at the moon, which was radiant and white, reminding him of a Van Gogh painting.
“Good evening, please take a seat young man, though I’m quite surprised to see someone in our bar this late at night. Are you perhaps an outsider?”
Placing his jacket in the seat beside him Molloy looked across the bar sifting for another person.
“Yeah, I just arrived. What is this place?”
The bartender looked perplexed for a moment, then let out an exhausted laugh.
“Any time an outsider arrives here things are certainly going through a shift. You are in Wonderland, young man. An ancient place, been here since the inception of this planet.”
Confused, Molloy gazed at the bartender’s blue vibrant eyes, reminding him of his grandfathers.
“I just saw a man being executed, is that common place?”
“People are executed for all kinds of reasons here. The control of the state is vast and overreaching. They’ll be looking for you as well. Though visitors are uncommon, they are not welcome. I could get in trouble for telling you this.”
A sense of unease overcame Molloy.
“Where should I go? What should I do?”
The bartender pulled out a card and handed it to Molloy.
“These are the city’s dissidents, they will aid you, perhaps even get you home again. Stay away from men in red uniforms. They patrol the streets and are the state’s officers. My advice would be to disguise yourself as an ordinary citizen. Travel only by night and stay away from the main roads. Until you reach the headquarters of the Cheshire Cats your life is in grave danger.
A car stopped outside the bar with the headlights burning bright.
“Hurry, go into the room at the edge of the bar. I’ll distract the guards. There’s an exit you can use.”
Perplexed, Molloy shuffled toward the exit. In the background he heard a muffled voice talking before he slipped into the street. The yellow lights which lit up the dark reminded Molloy of the times spent walking home during the early mornings, after he got off work. As he sauntered down the avenue he knew he had to find a place to rest. In the distance a police siren wailed and Molloy hurried his pace. An empty factory building emerged from the dark and Molloy entered with timid steps, narrowly avoiding the broken glass and bottles on the floor. Inside he collapsed in a corner and closed his eyes, slipping from his present dream into another one.
Chapter 6
The rain cascaded onto the colourless streets as Molloy excited the factory. He knew from the bartender’s warning that he shouldn’t travel by day, but his hunger was excruciating and he needed to eat. Molloy walked with brisk steps. Citizens dressed in similar grey uniforms all avoided eye contact, staring directly ahead as they passed him. He arrived at the “name of cafe” which was sparsely filled with grey concrete faces with vacant, lifeless eyes, they all stared into their smartphones as they sipped their black coffee. Molloy took a seat in the corner and checked for the barista who was nowhere in sight. A customer got up and exited, leaving a half eaten sandwich on the table, Molloy snatched and devoured it .The Barista emerged from the back room and started cleaning the counter.
“Good morning, can I take your order?”
“Oh I’m just resting, besides I don’t have any money on me” Molloy quipped silently.
“You look quite disheveled, why aren’t you in your uniform?”
A sense of unease struck Molloy.
“Well, umm, actu…”
Never mind, you look you’ve seen better days. Can I offer you anything? You can have a cup of coffee.”
“No thanks, I was just leaving.”
As Molloy rose the deja vu which he was so familiar with washed over his senses as he collapsed on the floor.
Waking mere minutes later the first thing he spotted was the note attached to the piece of gum under the table. Molloy rose discreetly with the barista helping him up. His ears rang and his headache was severe. Exiting the cafe he checked the note which he had snatched when the barista wasn’t looking.
“The inclination towards freedom is the most crucial human instinct. Follow the white rabbit.”
The name felt familiar, Molloy thought, as he pulled out the card the bartender had handed him the previous night.
“The Cheshire Cats are accepting new members. Interested applicants meet at the White Rabbit at 12 midnight.”
Confused, Molloy placed the note in his pocket. Where exactly was The White Rabbit? How would he find it?
The streets remained grey and silent as Molloy wandered aimlessly. Since he didn’t have a uniform he traveled along the backroads of the city, trying to not attract too much attention to himself. When he passed a citizen he tried to make eye contact, but like sheep, they all slipped past him in a similar fashion, as if he were a ghost. As he walked he noticed a sound in the distance, something akin to a radio, being blasted at a loud volume.
“CITIZENS ARE EXPECTED TO WORK WITH PERSEVERANCE. ANYONE NEGLECTING THEIR DUTY TO SERVE THE STATE WILL BE DEALT WITH ACCORDINGLY.”
As the car blasting the message passed into the distance, Molloy slipped into a building. He didn’t know where he was, though he knew he had to find a uniform. He slipped down a corridor and spotted a locker room which he promptly entered.
“Empty. Thank God.”
The uniform hung from a hook when Molloy grabbed it and swiftly put it on. As he was just about to leave he heard the sound of water running. Checking the shower discreetly he spotted a woman showering in the corner. What struck him first was how thin she was, as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Then he spotted her tattoo on her left collarbone, a white rabbit. Molloy knew what it meant.
The woman entered her apartment building at Oxford Lane, with Molloy hot on her heels. The narrow corridors reminded him of a prison, and seemed supremely depressing. As she closed her door Molloy knocked and waited patiently.
“Sorry, I’ve got a crushing headache. Can’t talk at the moment.”
Molloy considered with a deep contemplation what he would say as to not scare Alice off.
“I need to talk to you. I’m not an officer, I’m an outsider.”
Alice opened the door slightly and looked suspiciously at Molloy.
“Yeah, right. Are you an informant? Who do you work for?”
“I don’t work for anyone. I’m new here, I just arrived on a train. I need your help to find the Cheshire Cats. Do you know anything about a white rabbit?” Molloy spoke with trepidation.
Alice opened the door and looked with confusion at Molloy. Molloy handed her the card he received from the bartender.
“Holy shit! You’re for real!” Who gave you this?”
Molloy told the story of arriving on the train, seeing the execution, and talking to the bartender.
Hours passed, Molloy sat on the floor taking a final drag from Alice’s joint as it burned his fingertips.
Have you tried this? It’s called Gryphon.”
Alice laid half naked on a mattress while gazing at Molloy who was putting on his shirt.
“I don’t really like drugs, aside from the ones my doctors give me.”
Alice rolled her eyes and put the pill on the pillow of her tongue.
“It’s a psychedelic, I’ve heard people talking about the drugs outsiders take, this isn’t that different.”
Molloy swallowed the pill with a glass of water, and in the supreme desolation of the messy apartment they waited for the effects to kick in.
Alice’s pupils were dilated, and the colors of her eyes were changing. The room looked like a movie set. The lamp now shone a blue light instead of the previous yellow. The chair in the far off distance of the room looked like a skyscraper.
Molloy laid on his back on the stained mattress and held Alice’s hand. As they gazed at the stars on the ceiling Molloy suddenly saw himself from above, with Alice next to him.
“Holy shit. I think I’m dissociating. Everything feels unreal. Like a nightmare.”
Alice squeezed his hand gently
“Don’t worry, these pills only last an hour or two.”
“I’m really glad I met myself, Alice.” Molloy spoke with a faded inflection.
Alice laughed and pointed at the ceiling.
“Look! A falling star!”
As Molloy fell into himself he regained his consciousness and became one with his body again. Laying on his back and gazing at the stars in the ceiling he felt his clothes disintegrating and turning to sand, leaving him and Alice naked on the mattress.
The joint burned brightly in the darkness of the apartment as the smoke reached the ceiling. With red, raw eyes Alice smiled at Molloy.
“You sure look like an outsider. Your eyes are vibrant and filled with life. When you smile you actually show joy.” Alice pronounced
Molloy glanced uncomfortably around the messy apartment as Alice took another drag.
“But there’s something about you, you seem like you carry a wound. I feel sad when I meet your gaze.”
Molloy felt an unease at being analysed with such surgical precision and sank back into his the black sofa.
“I’m fine. I used to be a troubled person, but I grew out of that phase.”
Alice slipped beside Molloy on the sofa.
“You’re hurting deeply, aren’t you? I will help you get home but it won’t be easy. Sleep here tonight and we will leave this place together.”
Alice kissed Molloy’s lips, and stroked his cheek as a single teardrop ran from his eyes.
“I used to be so comfortable and happy when I was young. No one ever told me life would be this difficult.”
Chapter 7
“Maybe the world was always crazy, then I just snapped and went insane with it.”
Alice accompanied Molloy after he exited the “…”
Both were high on codeine and laughed as they traversed the dimly lit streets. Before them the White Rabbit sign glowed an iridescent blue. A sign formed in the dark which Alice slipped by, as she showed her ticket to the guard. Inside the mood was ominous, with grey faded concrete faces standing awkwardly in the dark. Alice touched Molloys hand and kissed his cheek when suddenly the lights went out and the crowd began cheering. The band emerged on the stage, they were all dressed as office clerks, grey and monotone. The lead singer’s blue eyes disrupted the uniformity of the band as he swayed back and forth, with manic intensity. The strobe lights above flashed images, as Molloy fell into a trance. The images flashing behind the band were apocalyptic. Nazi paraphernalia, mass graves, and swastikas all lit up in the dark. Alice danced in the dark ferociously with sweat cascading from her forehead.
“Look Molloy!”
The lead singer pulled up a chair to the centre of the stage where a noose was hanging. Taking determined steps, he climbed up on the chair and tied the noose around his throat. The audience was silent and still in anticipation. The lights flashed blue as the singer kicked out the chair and choked.
The lights flashed brightly as Molloy felt the familiar sense of deja vu and collapsed on the floor shaking violently. Behind him the doors bust open with police and officers rushing through the entrance, ready to arrest the audience. As the light slipped from Molloys eyes he saw Alice’s red hair a last time before becoming unconscious.
Waking to the still light of iridescent grey, Molloy looked at the cracks in the ceiling, with a lump in his throat. Unaware of where he was he gazed around the tiny cell and noticed the black bars before him. Rising from his slumber he sat up with sleep in his eyes. Groggy and incoherent he called out for Alice, who was nowhere to be found.
“Alice! Where am I!”
Molloy looked around the corridor, and heard an unfamiliar voice in the distance.
“Be quiet!”
The guard rattled the bars of the cell and looked intently at Molloy who cowered in the corner.
“Where am I? Where’s Alice?”
The guard stared with a sinister gaze at Molloy.
“You’re in K9. Alice is dead. We put her out of her misery.”
Molloy felt the tears welling up as he sat down in his cell. Could it be true? Without Alice Molloy had no one in Wonderland to trust. She couldn’t be dead. No, the guard was surely lying. Molloy beat his fist against the floor while tears streamed from his face.
The days stretched to weeks, to months, as Molloy persisted inside K9. The internment camp was vast with many nooks and crannies. The days consisted of hard labour, and the nights of brief moments of rest. Molloy lost count of how many executions he had witnessed, but was glad it wasn’t him standing on the gallows. He still thought of Alice, her exuberant mind and free spirit. She was still alive. That much Molloy knew. The bond that connected them was transcendental. Something beyond space and time.
Digging through the rubble Molloy found an emerald, shining bright and red. Was it Alice’s? Maybe she left it here for him? It was impossible to know for certain. Molloy put it in his shirt pocket and continued with his work. The fences were equipped with thorns. When Molloy cut his wrist he watched the blood run down his arm. He pulled the fence down and narrowly climbed through. He felt his body aching from cuts as he trudged through the bushes, puddles, and mud. Slipping further into the distance he looked back at the wasteland, without fear, without empathy, he bade farewell to the desolation, and continued through the depths. Free at last! He screamed through the wilderness!
“I’m free! I’m free!”
With bewilderment he made his way through the wilderness. The mountains in the distance screamed freedom. Freedom! A word he could barely remember.
The snow covered the surroundings. Barren trees laid scattered around Molloy. Walking a narrow path he made his way into the white fog. Finally he found a cabin, desolate and quiet.
“My home.”
He exhaled, sitting down he constructed a fire. Throwing wood into the flames, he rested before the blaze.
Waking mere hours later he gazed around the cabin. Empty. Vacant. Outside the snow was setting around the trees, a winter wonderland. Molloy felt a sense of hunger and knew he had to start hunting, though he was unfamiliar with the process. He carved an arrow with a knife. The bow was primitive, but capable of withstanding the task.
Trudging through the snow he spotted a deer. After steadying his bow he fired the arrow at the animal and struck it in an artery. Wallowing along the deer finally collapsed and sunk into the white. Molloy picked it up and brought it back to his cabin.
Molloy feasted in the dark desolate cabin. Without light he gorged..
“Alice, I still remember when you kissed my lips, and I kissed yours, and I finally felt like I belonged. My whole life I’ve felt as if I existed on the outside. But when I looked in your eyes, I saw my reflection, and I knew that I finally had a purpose. I had something to live for. I don’t know if you’re alive, but I will never forget you. If there’s a chance you’re still in Wonderland I will find you, then we can go home together.”
Molloy woke from the dream with a tearful sadness. The cabin was empty, glowing in an ominous mood. He knew he had to return to Wonderland and find Alice. Covering himself in heavy clothing he stepped outside and noticed the surface of the snow glimmering in the morning light. Brushing past trees and hedges he made it to a hilltop and gazed down at Wonderland. Was Alice there? He wasn’t even sure she was alive, but he had to attempt to find her.
Climbing through bushes and twigs he made it closer to the outskirts of the city. The lights above shone a neon yellow, staining the night sky with an iridescent glow. Gazing further he noticed a guard by a gate who was protecting the entrance of Wonderland. Molloy felt the sharpened dagger poke his fingers in his pocket, a dagger which he had carved carefully. Molloy approached further when the guard was suddenly consumed by an epileptic fit. As the guard finally collapsed Molloy dragged the body into the bushes and changed into his uniform.
Walking through the streets of Wonderland
Molloy attempted to stay undetected. The city remained the same grey, colourless, monolith he had remembered. He spotted a lifeless child in the rubble which he walked past with a tainted mind. Alice’s apartment block stood before him in the silence of the dawn. A crowd scurried past him hurriedly as he entered. Walking down the corridors he noticed the same number 6 inscribed on every door. Finally he spotted Alice’s apartment and entered. Empty.
Leaning back on the sofa Molloy lit a cigarette and smoked it to his fingertips.
Molloy had searched the apartment for several hours without any trace of Alice’s whereabouts. Finally he figured out the password to her computer and opened her notes.
“I’m gong to be incarcerated on Monday. I received a ticket to Totalitaria and will leave Sunday morning. Molloy, if you’re reading this, come find me. Follow the white rabbit.”
Exhausted and depleted Molloy collapsed on the black sofa. With a worried and anxious mind he closed his eyes and dreamt of beautiful dreams.
“The current caressed our bodies as we flowed down the river. I’m sensing the gentle skin of your fingertips as you squeeze my hand. You’re speaking a foreign language, with eyes completely darkened. We’re both naked. The water stains my skin and I feel a shiver in my body. Suddenly you kiss me and leave a note in my mouth. As I release my hand from your grip I try to pick out the note when your eyes turn white and you shout with a deranged tone.”
“MATTHEW, THE CITY WILL FALL AND THE TEARS OF OUR ANCESTORS WILL ECHO THROUGH OUR CHILDREN’S DREAMS. FIND ME AGAIN. BEFORE THE WORLD FALLS INTO DARKNESS.”
The doors busted open as the police of Wonderland barged through, equipped with firearms and flashlights. Yet the room was empty, with neither Alice nor Molloy in sight.
Standing by Wonderland station, Molloy loitered discretely still dressed in an officer’s uniform. He patiently waited for the train, hungry and depleted. While gazing around the platform he noticed no other citizens. He glanced up at the sky but didn’t see any clouds. Suddenly he saw a train passing through the distance, as it neared him Molloy felt the ticket in his pocket and finally boarded. The train car was desolate when Molloy took a seat. He had hoped for another passenger to question. Where exactly was this place Totalitaria Alice had mentioned? Was it even real? Maybe the letter he had found on her computer was a decoy, a distraction. Impossible, he thought. After all he had the ticket..
The train ride was long, passing through storms and wastelands, rivers and deserts. Another dream faded, far away into wilderness, Molloy woke with a headache. Glancing again around the cart he noticed another passenger had boarded. Look inquisitively, he attempted to strike up a conversation to answer his questions. Yet the passenger just stared off into a black, cold, and treacherous space.
“Do you know where we’re heading?”
The passenger remained ambivalent. Ignoring Molloys question.
“Have you ever been to the desolate city of Totalitaria?”
Still, the passenger stared into the wall opposite from him, without answering.
Molloy gazed at cracks in the floor and felt drained and tired. Just as he was about to fade into another dream he heard a brooding voice emerge in the train cart.
“The woman you seek is lost in the labyrinth. You must find her before the Minotaur.”
Molloy gazed with wide eyes at the peculiar character.
“Totalitaria is a treacherous city. Soon we will arrive. You must find her, before the world falls into darkness.”
Part 3 – the city of glass
As the train stopped I rose from my seat and exited. Stepping outside I see the city before me. Every building was hollow and tall, yet not a citizen in sight. It truly was desolate.
Walking along the deserted streets I notice the light of the moon above the skyscrapers. The blue hue of the night makes me dream of my hometown, the name of which I’ve forgotten. I want nothing more than to go home to the comfort of my apartment, and to my friends, but I can’t go without Alice. The knots that string us together are impossible to untie, and standing in the darkness of Totalitaria I know that if Alice died, I would die too.
The streets were neatly organised. No signs of debris or broken glass. I gaze yet again at the tall hollow skyscrapers, without spotting an individual. Peculiar, I think, and continue marching forward.
The shadowy corridors of Totallitaria are as cryptic as a maze. There’s shadowy visions penetrating my periphery. Something large, strange, and subhuman is lurking in the corners. I pass empty grey buildings as I march towards my vision of Alice. I see her now, with her long red hair, swirling in the darkened club. The last vision I have of her before she vanished. All the while the creature grows more apparent. I shield my eyes and turn away, but wherever I turn the vision creeps. I feel on the verge of fainting when I walk into a cafe where Alice is sitting patiently and distilled, sipping on a coffee cup. I enter, slowly, and stand in the corner and gaze at her. Even after all I’ve gone through her image calms me, just like a sedative.
“Alice? Is it really you?”
Alice glances at my face with a perplexed look.
“Who are you?”
The words shatters my soul into pieces.
“Don’t you remember me? I’ve gone through hell to find you, and you don’t even remember me?”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Alice states astutely.
I grab her arm and force her out of her seat.
“We need to leave, this place isn’t safe.” I say
Alice protests and grabs my arm.
“Come with me, there’s something you must see.”
We walk through the desolate grey streets until we reach a theatre. Rain has started falling and the mood is ominous. We leave our jackets at the door and take our seats in the back. Alice sits beside me and places her hand on my right arm. The theatre screen flashes white before it darkens.
Alice’s apartment is slightly lit by candlelight. Sitting silently in the corner is an image of myself, gazing into dead air. Alice is stretching back on a mattress, half naked.
“I remember this.” I say.
“I wish we could stay like this forever.”
Alice leans back and takes a drag from the joint.
“Sometimes a second lasts for an hour.”
I shoot Alice a peculiar look.
“I’m being serious. My life before I met you was so empty. I lost my mother in a car crash when I was young, just like you lost yours. After that I have just floated through existence, unaware, and adrift.”
Alice’s eyes, so sympathetic, red and raw, fill me with sorrow.
“You’re lucky you at least had a family. People in this town are just numbers and digits. Cogs in a machine. I always dreamt of escaping, but never did. That’s my biggest regret.” Alice speaks in a hushed tone.
“You can still escape, come with me and start a real life. Leave with me.” I say
“There is no real life. Time and existence is illusory. We exist in the cosmic blink of an eye. Nothing is forever not even our love Molloy, but in this moment, right now, we are real.
“That’s true. I think most of us live in the past or future, but when we fall in love we learn to live in the present.”
I smile at Alice as she dumps the ashes from the joint in a tray
The screen shows images of the White Rabbit. The nazi paraphernalia, and the horrifying suicide. As the police rush in, the screen darkens. The next scenes portray a concentration camp, with Alice meek and thin, cheek bones revealed. She crawls through barbed wire and escapes. Next she’s on a train, travelling through landscapes which Van Gogh might have painted. Totallitaria is vast and expands as she walks along. As the Minotaur devours her in the cold grey streets, spilling blood across the concrete the screen fades to black, after which the theatre lights up, and yet again, I’m alone. I can still sense the touch of her hand. But I know she’s gone.
I open the door of the theatre and instantly recognize the street when I step outside, the street I remember Stephanie stumbling down. The sky is clear blue without a trace of a cloud. A bluebird is sitting on a telephone wire above gently singing. I gaze around me and see no other pedestrians. Walking along I pass store windows, houses, and apartment blocks, wondering why the roads are so desolate. I pass a cafe window and glance inside, and there’s Alice, sipping a coffee. I wave, but she just quickly glances my way before diverting her eyes, leaving me alone waving at myself in the reflection of the window.
“Maybe the world was always crazy, then I just snapped and went insane with it.”
Gabriel Wing 