Alison's Wonderland Chapter 1

Part I

There was void.And a bouyancy so exhuberant that it overpowered common perceptions...but as though the upthrust was just not enough to sustain my existence,on clouds, # 8,9,10...., in the air,over the earth. And to let me fly. Away...

There was this nagging feeling at the beck of my head, a yearning,a itching of unsprouted wings,like a feeling i could rise...and I had. I had to have had risen above it all.Without The Rise, I would'nt have had been where I was. But where was I???

At the centre of my bed reigning my own little Empire. My Queendom.

I cast about on my subjects. There was the dog-eared poster of Leo di Caprio,I used to dream of every night for 12 months, followin' the titanic invasion of the Titanic! I'd unfairly swap places with Rose and would dream on till the scene of Jack sketching Rose in the saphhire locket and....( we all know the scene!) when i'd wake up with a start to realise i was such a preteen that not even doggies would turn cockeyed if I walked 'round topless.

The memory was so embarrassing ,it was almost anecdotally funny!

Then there was the distorted and polka-dotted flower vase,a gift from my best friend,or should I say former best friend, Trisha, as a heart-candy cuz we had had a fight when she as the director had given me the lousiest part in the school-play 'Merchant of venice'. I was to be some butcher!!! Moi! Ahh ! I could only imagine myself in the place of the pretty damsel...I had alleged her of trying to satisfy the new kids so she could become one of the 'in-crowd's . But later I had come to the dawning that I was simply a bad actress. Now I revert to my previous conviction.

And another conviction. Kids are smart and maybe teens are smarter. But hormones retard their thoughts. I was a common emotional fool. I am now a bigger one. Fact is, I was always a lover at heart...be it my mom 'n' dad, or Trisha or, the tree next door.

I blinked. Some warm thingy was tricklin' down my cheeks. God knows where they come from..or more like why they come! But on blinking I became aware of the fact that my vision had slowly blurred out and now the vase swam back in clearer focus.

I remembered. It was an artclass project that Trisha had sacrificed for me...and had gotten punished later ,accused of not doin her classwork! My sweetest friend! And those trickly goo,whatever their chemical composition be, had again invaded my cheeks when she gave me the vase and a bare-hug...or maybe it should be a bare-hug and then the vase...gah! I dont know...which comes first! Both had the same effect on my wet cheeks!

I turned my eyes away. They fixed upon rings of light in the shadow of the carved ventilator of my room,their penumbras overlapping 'n' all---staring back at me with a pregnant glare.

She tossed askew the lace of light,

Into the darkness of the night,

Away from her,

They fromed in the air,

Rings of glare,

Like tigress eyes.

Her Sorceress had risen to the shore,

With a potion for lust ,for love,at core,

Her heart ,a broke tramp at ease,

Yearning for a life at home,at peace.

There was the storm again. Like some animal rearing to break free...and pounce upon its captivator. Bellowing with rage and then breaking forth with a force that could destroy the world down to every nucleus. Mother Nature's rage for the cruelty her soft curves were subjected to...

There were the hurried snap-shuts of windows of the neighboring houses. But my window was open. As ever. The Window. The wind tortured her, it slammed to and fro in its hinge. The wind then whoosed in and attacked Leo's poster. It hesitated for a while ,then flew out and got entangled in the maternal embrace of the curtains.Smothering it. Lest it leaves nest forever.I watched it play. Or fight. For war is a game. For those who love to play it big.Or perhaps for the claustrophibic sickos (the kinda people who had to be rushed to the hospital when they were locked into a closet with a girl to carry out the marginal instructions of a game of spin-d-bottle)playgrounds greater than or equal to the battlefields sufficed.

The velocity of the wind had risen to mor ethan some 300 miles/hour. As the radio claimed. 'Quit with the news! bring on the music!'--I shouted to the mindless box.The news had been goin' on for an hour now! The headlines,the sports scoop, the interview of some bighead, and now the weather report. They had really skipped the forcasts,probably 'cause they never came true. I snickered momentarily in triumph of god knows what. I turned the knob clockwise,then anitclockwise. White noise...white noise and more white noise. Just one station was still surviving. At least bring on Destiny's Child "Survivor"...!!!! Grrr..

Smash!

I snapped around on cue, and immediately felt my heart shatter. The vase...it had broken in infinitesimal pieces. It was now what it began with. A heap of earth.

I stooped over the litter. And saw it gradually become wet. The warm trickly things.

It however struck me like a post-omen.

Trisha was long evacuated from my wildlife scenario.

Its strange how time can alter people's lives. And the people themselves.

Simply strange.



She was fleeing through the trees,

Past an airless breeze,

Away from the cries,

Away from her demise...

Once she had died,

And a lone wolf cried,

When she knew the song they played,

For each time she was ...dead.

She knew it by heart,She sung it out loud,

And out they came like,

Like a raging hive,

Of bees at war,

Knowing that they they had buried her alive.

Out they came,

With a hiss and buzz,

Out they came,

To bury her again.

So this must be how crying feels like eh!?...And these things must be tears! Now there's always a lesson to learn.

The bubbling was increasing with time,under surface in my throat, ...I have never really cried out loud. And it alwaus gives me the goosebumps to hear the glycerine-fed howling cries of the actresses and...now,even actors! Man, is the world going to the dumps or what!Men shouldn't cry. Its not because they are supposed to be emotionally strong or anything...more like emotionally deficient,which is the case for most of those nutters,...but they just...look hideous! Like some overgrown baby with all the wrinkles intact and add heavy jaws and hairiness to that. Get the picture? Ugh, Say, like GROSS!

Anyways,I'm no expert on crying. I just feel these warm water on my cheeks,and I shouldn't even be commenting on others' crying tactics, especially a whole species! I might look like a baby chimp,although i do think they're pretty cute!

Ok,I'll quit talking rubbish! The reason I'm doing is to evade the possibility of facing another bout of looking like a chimpo babe...

You wanna know what I'm really thinking about!?

I'm not just thinking it. I'm living that moment at this very moment dammit!

Trisha had been standing out in the corridor as per the art teacher's instruction for not turning in her vase. She would'nt let me submit itfor the nuts for her,and was safely tucked away in my locker.When the bell rang,and she came back in, I couldn't believe my eyes. She was not only NOT frowning or mad or even rebelliously enraged at the almost corporal punishment, but was smirking,like she had won the marathon race or something."And what are you smilin' 'bout?" I asked.

"Nuthin'".

"yeah right. I know you're not smilin' about embarrassin yourself in fron' o' the whole class ,I know!".

"Ok,you wanna know. I'm smiling cuz...this is probably my best punushment time ever!!! ...hm, and you know what else..I jus' realised...."

Blush,hesitance,toe-drawing arcs on the ground....

"...that there's just something else about getting back friends I almost lost. Something...I dont know...something ice-creamy! Which reminds me...lets go shopping at the mall today. What do you say,girlfriend!?"

I said yes.

Yes, there surely is nothing I look forward to than healing a lost friendship.

If that person was still alive that is.

The girl has had a rebirth.

She's a prancing youngster who's latest dialogue was "Hair emergency,call 911. Gimme your spray,mine is lost. You know you'll need my stuff someday. So gimme your spray today."....*sigh*...well,thats not the Trisha I knew. Or want back.

See,its not like I didn't try or anything. When her affinity for the " Saz Sisters" I was a bit tensed,but I ofrced the belief, that friendship can feed on love itself,that it needed no common interests,or even lotsa quality time together. But,see the problem was,I had just shed my emotional hide and had signed up for the ride uphill to the House of Emotional Fools. Hormone driven. Blinded by Faith. Obstructed by Love.But even best friends cannot survive the one thing that fuels the Social Engine. Discrimination. Division.Down with it all. The morons who rule the world. The biggest morons of the world,the ones who think they're soooo divine they could almost fly,--the Superiors. And then there are always those dumb ones who suffer from acute need of a mirror ,so they could just for once look into their faces and see they look exactly like the gods they worship--the Inferiors. Finally,for this equilibrium reaction we need the one thing,the catalyst. In other words,the nobodys who lay back and feel absolutely happy being nobodys,as long as they have enough food and water,who needs dreams!

But there are always people like me,the Rebels. The Outcasts. The ones who are beyond the perimeters of categorisation...

And thats not a condescending statement. Its a depression I have to go through every single day. Every 24 hours. Every 86400 seconds....

But Trisha created this me. I was a nobody before. Now,I'm a rebel. For every other negatives, I'm somebody! And thats still something...

You might be wondering how Trisha could've possibly had any touch in this art. Well, when she left me forever, which isnt exactly a real time,real date, "when"...I was forced out of my life-long faith in friendship. I detached myself from my all-frienderness. I became a loner. And that left me to spend some more quality time with me. I became my own best friend.

In short, I discoverd the Me in me.

And this was the best thing that could happen to me.

By becoming me...I became a Someone, and by becomin that Someone, I became the One for someone, who eventually became My One! Make sense? Well,lemme simplify. I met him. And when I say "met"...I mean...it was the grand,all-time high, unforgettable union of body and mind...when our eyes met, and our hearts,and our souls,...and our lives.And We became SomeTwos.

A broken doll fell to the floor,

A cracked tear in her eyes she bore,

A ghost of tremble in her smilimg lips,

Within the walls where she sleeps,

They watched her,

Trying to read her mind,

As a baleful wind ruffled her hair,

Trying to seep into the dome they bind.

But death had worshipped her slumber,

Endorsed her mirror with a hued picture.

As a child she had urged upon Heaven

To be with her loved and loving,

But Today she craved for a place in the inferno,

Where her colors red,may stay ,not go.

And she prayed for a last look at life,

So she could find the glass,she would hide,

She prayed she could never love again,

Under the sun,never smell the rain.

In her darkness, she found the rings of light ,

Circles of path, like the last spring tide.

Outside amidst the laughter and trill,

Amidst her cremation, came a neighing shrill.

With a drizzle and a whip, the ghouls turned to see,

The Human had come to his sleeping beauty