Featured Review on this writing by Jeff Bezaire

"Get In The Car!"

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
With thanks to Jeff Bezaire for the inspirational pic.
Hully's back in Wonderland!

Submitted: February 01, 2019

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Submitted: February 01, 2019

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A A A


Get In The Car!”

 

I’m walking along with my head in a cloud

when a vehicle approaches, engine so loud.

When it is beside me, it starts to slow,

I’m getting the feeling that I should just go.

But then there’s a voice, a memory jar;

No time to explain, Alice. Get in the car!”

Whoever is driving, they know my name,

I’m tempted to demand what is their game.

I turn for a quick glimpse. Can it be real?

There’s the White Rabbit, gripping the wheel.

Get in the car, Alice. There’s no time to lose

we need you to help us with finding some clues.”

There’s really no choice, I cannot say no;

I jump in the car with a “Go, Rabbit, Go!”

The car picks up speed, we’re over the limit,

we can’t be pulled over because of who’s in it;

we race down the highway, veer to the right

and there we’re confronted with an unreal sight.

A tunnel looms darkly, named ‘The Rabbit Hole’

and now we’re descending like some rabid mole

until at the end we emerge with a pop

and finally the car pulls in to a stop.

What is the problem?” I ask looking round;

this Wonderland’s different, and there is no sound,

the colors are blended to look like a mess.

It’s really a sad sight, I have to confess.

There’s something gone wrong and it’s causing a stink,

the White and the Red Queen are now colored pink.

There’s purples and orange, green, mostly brown;

our magical tones gone,” Rabbit says with a frown.

The sun’s a drab orange, the grass a sad green,

the sky the deepest purple that I’ve ever seen.

Of the primary colors there is not a glimpse,

just drabness and murk that is making me wince.

A messed up palette,” I say to myself,

but where would it be, upon which shelf?

I need to start asking, enquiring around

until the location, from clues, can be found.

The Hatter is gloomy, and is bordering rude

while Cheshire runs from me for he’s in a mood.

Where is the Hare? Perhaps he would know

if only to find him, I knew where to go.

White Rabbit looks gloomy now that we’re back,

the mangled up tones give a panic attack;

who can I ask? Then I have an idea

for if she’s asleep maybe her head is clear!

The dormouse is snoozing and all bleary-eyed

but when she is woken, she’s right by my side.

The dyer has fallen, we must make haste

or, Alice, this Wonderland will be laid to waste.

I’d never known that short legs were so fast,

this hurtling race, it is making me gasp,

but there up ahead, is a multi-colored dwelling,

where the colors are running, the drips, they are swelling

from puddles of paint to a mucky lake

that we must get round for the whole world’s at stake.

Up on my toes, I follow the mouse

as she scuttles forward and into the house.

There stands a man all covered in paint,

a picture of health, he surely ain’t;

his nose is all swollen, his eyes are so red,

he’s sniffing and snuffling and holding his head.

So startled to see us, he let’s out a yelp,

then says, “What a mess. I could do with your help!

All of this caused by one giant sneeze!”

And then by another, he’s silenced with ease.

Tell me, just in what way I can assist?”

I asked and I waited, worth taking the risk

of contracting a virus, getting a cold

to return to Wonderland its vibrance of old.

He gives me a bucket, then passes a cloth

and to his credit, he covers a cough;

I get to down cleaning, to mopping the spills

while with lovely fresh colors he starts the refills.

The work is quite hard, but soon the place is clean,

without a mark to show where the mess had been.

And back outside, its all sparkling new

beautiful tones that now light up the view.

And then with a screech, the silence to mar,

No time to explain, Alice. Get in the car!”

White Rabbit is frantic, and in such a hurry

that dormouse and I climb in with a scurry.

With just a wave, I am forced to depart

leaving the painter to work on his art,

then back up the tunnel to land on my street,

he’s heading back once I’m up on my feet.

The tunnel shuts behind him, is gone in a flash

he’d barely made it, which explained the dash.

Well that was a close one,’ I think to myself,

smile because Wonderland’s been brought back to health.

There’s only one problem.” It’s the voice of the Mouse.

How will I ever get back to MY house?”


© Copyright 2020 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

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