A Tilted Service/27

A quiet calm had settled in, Alice thought—until a faint clatter above confirmed differently.

High above her, a steaming teapot stood upon a three-legged table, sending milky, lavender-scented embraces through the air, quite undecided whether up was still up—or had absurdly become down.

Beside it, a plate of warm buttery biscuits perched—rounds of tempting round smiles tumbling downward, yet insisting they were rising to greet Alice instead.

All of it hovered above her—on the floor, as though a service had been set, promptly neglected by Wonderland itself, and only remembered a second too late after the sip of “DRINK ME” Red Magic.

“The ceiling… or is it the floor?” Alice asked the air, forcing her thoughts into a C-for-Ceiling, E-for-Floor knot. She was so flustered that the proper F had slipped out of her mind entirely, leaving poor E to do the job—while the aroma rose like a mischievous siren she very much wished to ignore.

“Perhaps I ought to give the room a little tilt—just a small one—and rotate the whole thing round,” she mused, tilting her body. “I do hope I can.”

What a wonderfully silly thought that was—forever silly, forever evolving, and somehow... forever.

Forever Brilliant, 

Wonderlandsome

Coming up next--

Door Introduced Itself

One Small Flick by Her,

One Giant Flip For The World

A surreal chapter in Alice’s digital dreamscape.