It Starts With a White Rabbit"Off with his head!"It Starts With a White Rabbit by =Just-Raowolf
His heart stopped in his chest.
The programmer's dark eyes were downcast, concealed in the shadow the brim of his hat cast across his stricken features - his expression was completely unreadable, but his shoulders were shaking ever so slightly.
Very slowly, the rabbit's eyes slid away from the programmer, slipping nervously to the face of the king. Completely paralysed, the young man stood with his hands folded behind his back, chin set forward, eyes blank. After several seconds, his gaze darted to that of the rabbit's. His jaw set slowly. Faced against his imploring stare, the king's eyes dropped to the floor.
The queen stood and, eyes still on the floor, the king stepped forward to take her arm. She took a small step; simultaneously, the cards stiffened and shuffled a few steps away, clearing a path for her. As she approached the programmer, the rabbit felt his heart begin to stutter - for a moment, the world froze. Her hand came up, kno
I'm Not MadI'm Not Mad by ~ClutterCollector
Alice stared at the Cheshire Cat with disbelief, trying to tell whether he truly believed what he was saying.
“What?” she questioned, “I’m not mad.”
“Of course you are. We’re all mad here,” replied the Cheshire Cat in a casual tone, floating through the air above her head; his tail constantly disappearing and reappearing. “I’m mad, you’re mad, we’re all mad.”
Alice’s brow wrinkled as she considered this new statement; she couldn’t be mad. It was only the creatures of Wonderland that were mad. And if they were mad, that meant that the Cheshire Cat was mad, and he couldn’t say that she was mad if he was mad, right?
But if he is mad, Alice reasoned, he has better authority on judging whether I am mad. An unsettling thought appeared in her mind. Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, and that was precisely what she as doing.
Alice thought about the second sign of madness: replying to
Weekly Hat 1st - DreadWeekly Hat 1st - Dread by *GoldenClockwerk
“Believe me,” mumbled the Hattress, wiggling her cup back and forth, “I've tried time and time again to mend torn bread with spaghetti. All I had in the end were meatball dumplings.”
“But did you use a carrot needle?” said the March Hare, scowling.
“I'd rather not my meatball dumplings have carrots in them,” replied the Hattress. “It's a meatball.” She leaned back in the chair. “No veg in the wedge.”
“It cannot be as difficult as mending the tears in your jacket,” snapped the March Hare, pointing. “It might as well be just as thick. What difference can a few carrots make?”
“I'm no judge.”
“What's the verdict?”
“Two peers are not enough.”
“Who's the victim?”
“It's a whodunnit, not a homicide.”
“A dead person: a homicide. A dead pest: a pesticide.”
“A dead bread w