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Alice has had a lousy life since she left Wonderland. All grown up and trapped in an unhappy marriage, she longs to escape. But when she finally manages to leap through the mirror, she gets one twisted shock after another. What ever happened to the crazy, charming Wonderland of her youth? This time, the Mad Hatter, Cheshire Cat, Mock Turtle, Humpty Dumpty, Tweedledum and Tweedledee are out for blood. Something has warped the magical mystery realm, sending Alice reeling from one close shave to the next. And when she gets her day in the Queen of Hearts' court, the verdict could be even more awful than "Off with her head!" Can a grown-up Alice survive the nightmare and escape her demented Wonderland? Or would she be better off staying in the lesser of two hells? The trip home could be a real killer. Don't miss this twisted dark fantasy tale from award-winning storyteller Robert Jeschonek, a master of mind-bending fantasy.
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Also by Robert Jeschonek
Chapter One: The Great Escape
Chapter Two: Scrambled Eggs
Chapter Three: Bride and Gloom
Chapter Four: A Spat of Tea
Chapter Five: Trial and Terror
Epilogue
About the Author
Special Preview: Heaven Bent
THE RETURN OF ALICE
Copyright © 2023 by Robert Jeschonek
http://bobscribe.com/
Cover Art Copyright © 2023 by Ben Baldwin
www.benbaldwin.co.uk
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved by the author.
Published by Blastoff Books
An Imprint of Pie Press
411 Chancellor Street
Johnstown, Pennsylvania 15904
www.piepresspublishing.com
Subscribe to the Blastoff Books Newsletter: http://newsletter.blastoffbooks.net/
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She stared into the mirror.
For the past thirty years, the thing had haunted her. It was hidden away in her attic, up the creaky stairs, through the heavy trap door, across the junky piles of clothing and packing crates. But still, it lingered in her thoughts, always burning in the back of her mind. Maybe it would have been better to have left it downstairs above the mantle. In the half-lit mustiness of the attic, it seemed all the more mysterious; and when she could not see it, she thought of it all the more.
Now, the only light in the attic was a single candle, burning to a nub on a chest behind her. She saw its dim point get lower and dimmer as she watched; she put out a hand to touch the reflection, and it disappeared.
She felt a thrill when she touched the mirror, a shiver of remembrance that trickled up her arm and down her spine and made her catch her breath. Slowly, she moved her hand across the glass, across her own reflection. Her fingers were light on the pane, pink-nailed tips brushing along it. As she caressed the reflection, a tear beaded in her eye and softly ran down her cheek.
She reached up and traced the tear's image, following it down the mirror with her finger. Another tear followed, then one from the other eye.
As she cried, she took her hand from the mirror and slowly touched her own face. Her eyes were still fixed on the reflection as she wiped away a tear, shaking a little. She moved slowly and stiffly, as if hypnotized, transfixed by her own image.
Then, her voice weak and catching, she spoke. "Oh rabbit, where are you? Where are you?"
There was no answer. She began to sob, and plunged her face into her hands. It was still the same, though she half expected it would not be; she half expected it would not be, though every day it was.
A few drops of rain rapped the roof above her, and through her sobs, she heard the far-off rumble of thunder. It was night, and the attic was growing darker as the tiny candle dimmed.
Still choking with sobs, the woman stared through her fingers at the mirror. She stared at her reflection, flickering in the shadows; her long blonde hair was tangled and limp, her face and eyes were red behind her hands. Her housedress was rumpled, the white blouse folded like paper around her heaving chest. She was a mess, and the mirror, the cause of it all, reminded her.
Suddenly, she whirled away from the mirror and stumbled across the attic. She tripped over an old rocking horse, caught herself on a lampstand; it rattled like coat-hangers when she rell against it.