The Red Snow

She had been walking for hours, maybe days.

Her fingers were ice cold as were her feet which were numb but she dragged them along with her tired and damaged body.

Her golden hair was matted and stuck to her face where the cold sweat ran down her temples.

The dirt on her face had clean lines in it from the tears that had streaked down her cheeks uselessly as she had called for help from the butterfly.

She had never known how angry someone could get, not until she had seen her.

The woman had eyes that spoke of terrible things, they glowed almost as if there was a fire behind them, almost as if she had seen hell itself.

Her eyes matched her crimson hair that fell around her cruel face.

The woman had long thin fingers and they matched her tall stature and gaunt form that hid beneath her majestic cloak.

She hadn't seen it coming nor had she felt it when it happened.

"For painting my roses red...Such a shame you won't lose your head"

The words had puzzled her when the woman had said them but she had been a bit preoccupied by the mesmerizing blood that was flowing freely from her abdomen.

The blood hypnotized her as she looked at the gaping whole that the dagger had left and she tried to push the scarlet waterfall back into her body, where it should rightly be.

It spilled from between her fingers and stained the snow a vibrant red, she had never imagined that she had such an abundance of blood inside of herself.

Looking back she wondered where the woman had come from and why she seemed so angry with her. It wasn't as if she had been digging in her things or pick pocketing her like she usually did with the tourists on the sidewalk.

The only way for her to survive.

The only place that people expected her to be mad, not that she was, at least she didn't think she was.

However, this woman had not been a tourist, she hadn't had any brightly colored clothes nor did she have an over sized sun hat or a camera to document her stay.

The woman was oddly familiar...

Like a far away dream that you grasped for but escaped your reaching hands as the waking reality took control.

As she stumbled on, deeper and deeper into the woods, she wondered again why the woman had been so infuriated.

Perhaps she also felt as if life had dealt her a cruel hand, it certainly had not given her any happiness if her eyes were any indication.

Eventually she could walk no more, if it could even be called walking at this point.

She leaned against a tree and slowly slid down until she was nestled comfortably in between its massive roots, a rabbit hole next to her, reminding her of home.

If only she had stayed in that place.

The place where everything was nonsense.

The place where everything was what it shouldn't be and what it should be it wasn't.

When she had come back, people had criticized her and told her she was crazy.

In the other place, being crazy was expected and anyone who was sane would soon be otherwise.

As the snow around her darkened with her blood, Alice again wished that she had never left the Hatter's tea party and as her soul slid away from her body she whispered softly to herself

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

Author: G.K Monroe 21/07/2020

Thanks for reading xx