Wonderland

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
Based on quite a vivid dream of mine, written for a college English class.

Submitted: January 15, 2014

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Submitted: January 15, 2014

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I’m in my home on 900 S. Minnesota St. I know it’s my home but there are a lot of differences that you don’t notice because you’re dreaming. Eric doesn’t exist, and neither does Nova. My parents are there, inside. I’m sitting on my porch. There’s an unnaturally tall black man dressed in an ocean blue suit complete with top hat and a hot pink tie. He appears to be wearing very long stilts under his suit, but he isn’t, the suited man stands taller than my roof. He wears black eyeliner. He has dark, prominent freckles across his cheeks and his eyes are a pale caramel brown. He’s walking in shoes that are actually live dachshunds attached to the reigns he’s holding in his white gloved hands. He’s slowly making his way across my front lawn, paying me no attention at all. I start laughing, because it’s such a ridiculous thing to see, like the things you see in a circus. I’m still laughing as he turns and all of him is out of sight except for his for his reigned dachshund feet. He stops, and I stop laughing. He bends down and peers at me from under my rooftop, expression never changing from very serious and deliberate. Even his shoes seem to be staring at me. He then brings down a stark black pistol and aims it directly at me. I’m frozen in fear, awaiting a gunshot, and when it doesn’t come I get up to run inside, but the door is locked. I don’t dare to glance behind me; instead I’m banging on the door, crying and screaming for help from my parents. I hear a sedating, ominous voice right in my ear, “Only you can help yourself.” Suddenly the man is gone, the door is open and I’m running inside crying out my story to my parents. Only they’re sitting at the kitchen table with their friends and I’m screaming and crying but they don’t hear me. In fact, they talk over me. The scene changes and I’m in the backyard. Again, it looks very different, it’s concrete and caged in instead of grassy and open, but I know it’s my backyard. I’m doing something with my hands when a little girl around 4 or 5 with platinum blond hair appears. She was asking me patronizing questions, I refused to listen attentively or look at her and I quickly went to the door, which was locked, again. The little girl stood quietly behind me while I banged on the door and yelled for my mom. I faintly remember the little girl’s dress being splattered with blood. I finally get the door open and I’m storming down the hall to meet my mother making her way to let me in. I’m yelling at her for undermining my urgency when the entire world changes.
I’m with a considerably large group of kids. We’ve all got weapons, ammo and a variety of high-tech equipment. I’m not sure of the specifics. We’re all standing at the border of Dracula’s property and we’re planning on exploring this land for some sort of research, I think it may have been for a college class or something. It’s the dead of night and I seem to have an unspoken bond with one of the girls I’m with. She’s a short punkie girl with cropped black hair and pale white skin, slightly heavyset. She has piercing blue eyes and an almost cherubic face. There’s another girl with us, a tall skinny redhead named Krystal. Her dark burgundy hair hands in curls and she’s dressed in jeans too tight and a skin-hugging white shirt with an undefined pattern. The vibe I feel is that she’s an annoying tagalong to me and the other girl, but we feel responsible for the ditzy ginger so we let her stay. We start searching the lot with our flashlights and nobody finds anything profound, but everyone is still alert, aware and slightly creeped out. We ultimately decide to break into the castle and proceed with the search while half of the group stays outside to explore the outer edge of the grounds. I don’t leave the pale girl’s side, and Krystal doesn’t leave ours. Our group hasn’t gotten very far before there’s a calamity all over the house. Blood-curdling screams, women’s evil cackling voices and slammed doors can be heard from every corridor, every room. It’s clearly an every man for himself situation. I make for a back door, knowing Krystal and the pale girl are right behind me. Right before we hit the door and the far drop between the castle and the ground, there’s a pale-skinned woman gowned in a white dress sitting in a Morticia chair next to the door with her blood, red eyes and almost white blond hair, sipping a porcelain teacup of blood. Before I’m out the door, she calmly utters a warning in a threatening and beautiful voice, “Terrible things going on out there.” But she’s right, I can hear the screams and I can see the other group running in panic in different directions across the yard. I ignore the warning and take my chances outside without hesitation. I hit the ground running and I look back to see Krystal halfway out the door, but the pale girl wraps her arms around Krystal’s chest and pulls her back up. She’s calling out to me and suddenly, I trust her more than my own instincts. I turn back and she pulls me up. As soon as we’re through the door, the three of us shove each other into a bedroom to the left. The pale girl sits down on a chair placed next to the door. I shut the door, lock and deadbolt it and instruct Krystal to search the rest of the room. There’s a bed, a vanity, and a dresser. The closet is covered by a pinned up blanket and full of women’s clothing. Suddenly, we notice that the whole house has gone quiet. I cautiously open the door, and we see the rest of our group sitting down in chairs or on the floor, all facing to the left with a blank stare. There’s a faint glow from the left side of the room, like they’re all staring at a static television. The pale, blond woman is still sitting in her Morticia chair, smiling with her porcelain tea cup. The whole group slowly turns to look directly at us three, and I wake up.


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