Tainted Candy Corn

The first taste still lingers on your lips,

And yet you hunger for another.

It made your throat burn and

Your mouth water, but the dozen

Remaining still glisten in the bowl,

So have your second piece of tainted candy corn.

Tea Party

Memories have a funny way of coming back at ironic moments in time. Like, right now, all I can recall is that first day of camp twenty some years ago when the councilors set us all down and told us the importance of staying on the marked trails, or at the very least making your own marks. But remembering after the fact isn’t really that helpful. All other memories of hiking flowed unhelpfully back. I tried to follow the flow of the stream, but forgot which direction it went. Moss on the trees was almost nonexistent, and the proper paths were out of sight. The sun was two hours from setting and I was SOL.

Sighing, I drop my heavy pack on the recently fallen leaves. Glaring at the dropping sun, I curse myself for forgetting to fully charge my cell phone and listening to on of my idiot friends about the amazing view if I just went off my normal hiking trail. I should have better to listen to John, but he had been my best friend since middle school, and I couldn’t help but still want to have some faith in him. The next time I went out to the bar with him, he would find it hard to pick up chicks when he reeked of booze from the beer I would pour over his head.

I had enough supplies to get me through the night, if worse came to worse. If I wasn’t out by tomorrow, I know my Ma would call in the national guard to find me, didn’t matter that I was almost thirty and had been on my own for almost five years, I was still her baby boy. If I didn’t call nightly, she would have an outright panic attack, and boy could that woman get anyone in contact with her in a frenzy. With nothing else to do, I plopped myself on the ground to think of my next brilliant idea.

It was then that I heard some strange music. I mean really odd, kind of like a cross between that old fashion chamber music you hear in old movies and a children’s lullaby Ma use to sing to me. It was faint, almost like it was just echoing through my head, but I know I had never heard this before, my imagination wasn’t that good, and I am pretty sure I wasn’t crazy. Why I hadn’t heard it before, I don’t know. Few people came out this far, but no one ever spoke of hearing music, then again few people collapse in despair in the middle of the woods. I was just about to write it off as a bird call, but my curiosity got the better of me, and I reasoned that music meant people who hopefully had a cell phone or a map. Groaning I got to my feet and grabbed my pack to make the long trek toward what I hope was civilization.

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Almost dusk and I still haven’t found the source of the music. I lost the sound completely a few times, but finally got on the right path that it grew louder and louder with each step. Finally I arrived at an overgrown hedge taller then me that seemed to be bordering the music. I walked around the hedge for a few minutes till it dawned on me that there was no way in the area. Laughter and voices had joined the sound of a music and it sounded almost like who ever was having a party because the occasional clinking of glasses and plates. It puzzled me why anyone would have anything out here, but figuring someone had to have a cell phone, I swallowed my pride and crawled my way through the hedge.

It seemed like those damn branches were poking me forever and I went through ever swear I know at least five times before I came to the other side, and it took my breathe away. The entire area was the size of a ball room with a marble floor and everything. Brightly colored streamers and lanterns hung all around. A band played the odd music from a corner on instruments that seemed more appropriate about a hundred or so years ago. The main area was covered by a long table with a lace table cloth, set for at least twenty and fully occupy by creatures I hadn’t seen outside of Fairy Tales and the Twilight Zone. People ranging from truly grotesque to stunningly beautiful set around the table engaged in a lively tea party. Their laughter floated in the breeze with the music, making this almost seem like a dream. I was tempted to come and join them, until I saw the girl.

The only human amongst the ravel, she set flanked by a rabbit man in a velvet suit and a large headed goblin dressed with enough clashing colors to make your head spin. Of all the guest, only they seem to be not having a good time. The two guardians looked angered and peeved, their entire focus on the child, but she was another story.

She would have been rather cute if she had been clean, but her lace and ribbon dress hung in rags on her pencil thin body. Her limp blonde hair was a mess of tangles, brambles, and leaves. Her eye were focused on her empty cup and plate set in front of her, and her hands tied so tightly at the wrist that I could see the dried blood crusting over the bindings. She could have been no more then eight and seemed to be drained of all color. Her stillness made me think of a photograph I had seen once of Victorian era children, surly with her dress that would be were she would have come from. She seemed oddly familiar, like I had known her years ago, though it was impossible.

Her watchers were distracted for a moment, and the girl slowly inched her bound hands toward a plate of cakes nearby. Her dainty and grimy fingers had barely grasped one when the rabbit man noticed. Shocked, he harshly slapped her hand, the noise resounded through the little grove and had everyone grow quiet and focused on the group. The goblin man, shaking in rage stood up.

“Clean cup, clean cup,” he said with false cheer in a rather high voice. “Everyone move now.” With those words, the table magically cleared itself and all the guest rose. The music suddenly changed to something similar to the Mexican hat dance and everyone joined hands. Singing a tuneless song they danced around the table till the music suddenly stopped and everyone sat down as if in a game of musical chairs. Immediately the food was back on the table, well out of reach of the child, who looked wistfully at her neighbors gorging on food and drink. She was closer to me now and I know who she had to be, Alice of Wonderland. What was left of her looked identical to the children’s book drawing I use to have. As if sensing my presence the girl looked directly at me with her forlorn blue eyes. Silently, she mouthed “Help me,” and started to tear up. I could take no more. With great anger I jumped from the bush and scared the living daylights out of all the guest.

“Good sir,” said a toad man, recovering from the shock. “Please join our party, we have more then enough to share. Eat, drink, and in the morning you shall be back in your own bed, thinking this only a dream.” As he spoke, a new setting appeared next to him piled with finger sandwiches and small cakes. I could feel my body losing the dirt and sweat as I inched nearer. I would have joined in their frantic celebration had not Alice chosen to give a small gasp, awaking me to her plight.

“Why don’t you share some with her then?” I questioned the man, who suddenly turned fearful and silent.

“She is being punished,” answered the rabbit man who had been guarding Alice. “Pay no mind to her, good man. Please join us.”

“No way,” I said, backing up from the group. “How could you let her sit their starving and dying while you party? Leave Alice alone, let her join.”

“Sir, if you have no inclination to accept our invitation,” steamed the rabbit man, “I suggest you leave before it has grown too dark for you to find your way home. Alice, as you call her, is perfectly fine.”

“Like hell I will,” I screamed, upturning the table and sending everyone but Alice scampering off to the far reaches of the grove. In their confusing I grabbed the child who weighed no more then a puppy or kitten. I clenched her to my chest and dove into the bush, protecting her from the brambles that cut into my flesh. Pleas and screams followed me, but no one made any movement to stop us from fleeing. In a matter of minutes we were on the other side of the hedge, this time no voices or music could be heard from within. The sun had already set, but I didn’t care. Forgetting my pack abandoned on the other side of the hedge, I ran straight, forgetting everything but getting away from the hedge and the weird people inside.

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It must have been hours later before I reached the edge. Gladly I collapsed and put the child gently on the ground. Catching my breathe, I noticed that the child had seemed to grow healthier this far from her prison. She stood on wobbly legs in front of me, silent except for her outstretched hands, still bound and bleeding.

“Please sir,” she begged, her voice weak from disuse. “Please.” Smiling for the first time all day, I reached into my pocket to retrieve my pocket knife. As gentle as possible I cut he ropes around her small wrist. The old twine fell to the ground and I massaged them to bring back the blood flow.

“Your going to be okay now,” I whispered, afraid to speak any louder, as if someone from the party had followed us.

“Of course I will,” she said in a calm voice. Looking at her again, puzzled, I saw for the first time a pair of fangs hanging over her lips. “Now that I am again free.” And with that, she pounced, knocking me to the ground, and her lips attaching themselves to my neck.

The last thing my muddled mind recalled was those old ghost stories told around the camp fire about the dangerous creatures that haunt the woods and the good ones that protect us from them. Apparently I had misjudged, as she took the last of my blood and left me to die.

Memories are rather ironic, aren’t they?

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Author's Note: Hopefully a little creepier then last night. Yes she was based off the character of Alice in Wonderland and the Rabbit Man and Goblin were the March Hare and Mad Hatter. I do not own Alice, Wonderland, or anything created by Lewis Carrol, though I do respect his work highly.