Alice, much like the girl next door, possessed no innate power—this she knew all the way to her very fingertips.
With a soft metallic relief, the embarrassed identity—⊥Iᗺᗺ∀ꓤ ˙M—on the brass plate atop the door shied away into a blur.
The letters soon reconfigured into a scholarly, hopeful title: A Hundred Ways to Escape—as though Wonderland, somehow apologetic, had conjured a long wand of possibilities, so far-reaching that its final spark might have not found Alice. (Lumos… Nox instead.)
“What a book without illustrations,” she murmured. “All I lack is speed-reading—that’s simple—anything to outrun the crawl among the bad sectors.”
In the corner, along the ridgepole, an empty, neckless bottle reclined in perfect idleness, its label having chosen to blank itself, too nervous to volunteer another DRINK ME-style chaos.
Meanwhile, the window, rousing from a lazy drowse, blinked once… then twice.
A legend—short but precise—flickered into existence:
Lumos. Solis. — EXIT WINDOW —
A soft sigh slipped from Alice’s lips. “Alright… though I never quite know what world they’ll open into next.”
Lumos...Maxima...
Lumos...Solis...
Coming up next--
The Buffered Hill
No Rabbit Hole,
No Mouse's Burrow
A surreal chapter in Alice’s digital dreamscape.
Lumos...Maxima...
Lumos...Solis...
Coming up next--
The Buffered Hill
No Rabbit Hole,
No Mouse's Burrow
A surreal chapter in Alice’s digital dreamscape.
4 comments:
Hello,
Alice needs to speed read the hundred ways to escape.
Exit one window and open another window.
Take care, enjoy your day!
Then Alice should enrol in a speed-reading course—before the words scampered off without warning.
Yet she always had a dozen other ways to catch them.
We all know that Alice is a bit lazy. She will do very little until told what to do. It seems that always gets her into trouble.
Ah, only now I know Alice was a bit lazy—though a touch worse than me.
Yet she was adventurous, and that was always her advantage over me.
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