"God?" I turned to look behind me. Strange. I'm sure I felt a presence creeping up to me. My hand was wrapped around the rabbit's ear.
The rabbit snickered, "What, getting the creeps now that you've seen where we are? Wonderland really isn't for the weak-hearted~"
Wonderland, that is what this place is called. It was an odd place. There was a mountain that changed colors the longer you stared at it; flying portions of different colored hair; and a bricked ground that turned into goo once you stepped on it.
Is this Wonderland or am I just high?
"Hey, rabies-infected-animal-scum."
"What an unflattering nickname!" The rabbit croaked, still getting dragged by the ear. His white fur all dirty now. "What's with you and animals? Aren't we cute?"
"I'm the one asking questions. And it's not animal cruelty when the animal in question acts like a middle aged man." I replied, maybe a little too harsh.
"Urgh..!" The rabbit felt like an arrow went through him.
It was awkward now to ask the question I've been meaning to ask him, but I overcame this small hurdle and forced myself to say something.
"What were you late for, rabbit?"
The rabbit crossed his arms, jerking his head away, not replying. Ugh, I hate being ignored.
I didn't really have a destination planned once I ate those biscuits and entered the small door. Even then, I've only watched the D*sney adaption and I have no idea if it's accurate to the book version. But that's assuming this world I'm in is based on the book— it could be based on a different version.
Still, what is this god planning? I want to know his intentions badly but it seemed like he only shows up when I'm dead or have done something bad.
…something bad?
That's what I've been doing for so long! I once did graffiti in the school's comfort room so I'd get noticed by my father who seemed to lost interest in me.
What's so different with that now? Besides the fact that it's a god I'm talking about, isn't this just like back home?
I'll just mess around!
-
One week later, I wish I could go back in time and scold my past self.
My vision is blurry and, as I am bent over a wooden crate, I saw multiple walking chess pieces. Were they chess pieces? My eyes couldn't tell. It was raining and my head hurted too much to see what was going on.
I heard a loud lady shouting at the chess pieces. I couldn't tell what she said.
I closed my eyes. Anton who is now Alice, please, please, do not stray further from the plot than you already have. You will only—
—Thump!
-
I felt a chilling feeling as I awoke, under an oak tree. Fortunately, I hadn't turned into another person. Unfortunately, I am still a little girl.
My hand felt like I was holding something. I looked at it. I was holding a carrot.
…why was I holding a carrot as I slept?
My mind digged through my memories then I remember. That fucking rabbit! Oh well, I had no use of him anyway but I still liked towering over him. Curse him, though.
Standing up, I dusted my dress. What now?
Hmm… I remember something the rabbit told me before I went to sleep; that he was about to deliver a message to the "Queen of Hearts."
Now that I think about it, he was about do that as well in the D*sney movie. Perhaps this world is based on the movie?
I am curious about many things. Like how big is this world I am in, the identity of the god who, I assume, sent me here, and his motives.
One thing I want answered immediately is when will I be able to go home? Not to my father, no. But to my mother's funeral. They were going to hold it a week after her death but before I could go, I was turned into an otaku. It saddened me that I couldn't see her before she got buried but what can I do now?
I clenched my fist, trying to not tear up.
"I must go," said by I, my voice cracking, "to the palace of the Queen of Hearts. Perhaps she has an answer on how I can leave this place."
I honestly doubted that a mere queen (she is quite mere compared to a god) like her could have an answer regarding transmigration. But I don't have a choice, do I?
Now, how did Alice leave Wonderland in the movie…
-
When I was young, I daydreamed of becoming a stable young adult. I wanted to be twenty-one as I thought it was the perfect age. At that age, you are considered young but have the leisure of an adult. You can drive and you can also drink (not at the same time, obviously. Do not drink and drive.)
But I mostly wanted to become a young adult because I thought it was the perfect time to get children.
My parents got me when my mom was thirty-six, and my father, forty-one. By the time I was ten, they acted like they were too old to do fun stuff. I mean, they were old. But I wish they acted like they weren't for me.
I am eleven and my parents divorced. My father left with a younger woman. I didn't hate him then. My mother was… not very smart. I loved her more than my father but I admit she wasn't that educated. Because she wasn't.
My mother was birthed around 1940 in the Philippines during World War II. Her mother was lured in by a flyer asking for a nurse where she ended up getting kidnapped, becoming a prostitute at a brothel all the way in Japan for Japanese soldiers. My mother was one of the many babies she had because of the Japanese soldiers who refused to use contraceptives, even though, by law, it wasn't allowed.
But I didn't hate the Japanese. What their ancestors did was not their fault. Let us be kind to those who have done nothing to us.
Out of the many children my grandmother had, only my mother and two more were saved, my two uncles. The rest were kidnapped. None of them have no idea what happened to them.
My mother remained uneducated, refusing to go to school in fear of being seen by a man. They were poor and for years, even after the war, her mother continued to become a prostitute despite the small salary.
When they finally reached the pinnnacle of poverty, my grandmother sold my mother to my father whom she feared until she experienced coitus with him.
Animals. It was all I could say. They were at it every night until my mother became crippled because of her heart disease. My mother's screams of pleasure disgusted me. Especially my father's grunts of ecstacy which destroyed my innocence.
Animals. Animals. Animals. Animals.
When he left, I swore to fix my mother. I never visited her back when I was in boarding school because all she'd asked was, with her broken grammar and thick Filipino accent,
"H-How your father do? Is he d-doing well?"
I don't hate my father or my mom. I simply hate that they made me go through this shit at a young age.
My father wasn't a bad person. He was just full of lust. My mother couldn't have been a person. She couldn't even decide on her own.
Dad, I actually hate you. But I love you so much that I'd wish everything works out for you. I hope you reach your dreams of your company becoming one of the best in the country. And I hope I'll never see you again.