Alice on Top of the World, chapter five

Chapter Five

'The Trip of a Lifetime, and the Fright of her Life'

As the sleigh sped bumpily through the snowy terrain, illuminated by only a pale quarter moon

hanging lazily in the rapidly darkening sky, Alice marvelled at the wintry landscape as it rushed

faster and faster toward her. Her eyes, watering from the icy cold blast of wind, saw many

strange things half hidden, like igloos, and beavers, small houses and kittens, babies and

hatters and even a walrus reclining next to a coat stand. She saw all these things – and more –

in the bitter cold night of the far north.

“Oh, I do hope that’s not Dinah,” she said with concern when she saw the small feline. “And if it

is her, she’ll surely catch her death of cold…”

The sleigh sped ever faster, and although Alice was fascinated by all the strange, wonderful,

bizarre things she was half seeing in the moonlight, she began to wonder why the magical

sleigh was still set firmly upon the ground. For the moment, however, she decided to say

nothing, for although Father Christmas was an amicable man his attention was at present set

fully on driving the sleigh.

“Rarr, rarr,” the old man shouted. “Rarr, rarr,” he shouted again, his eyes fixed on the terrain up

ahead.

Following his eyes, Alice was made very aware of the reason why the old man was getting so

worked up. You see, directly in front (they were approaching it at a frightening speed) was the

biggest, darkest forest she had ever laid eyes on.

“Rarr, rarr,” the old man shouted, spurring the reindeer to gallop faster and faster. “Rarr, rarr,”

he shouted again, wrestling to keep control of the reins.

“We will surely drive right into those trees, and be smashed to pieces,” thought Alice, ducking

beneath the blanket in fright.

For a split second Father Christmas looked across to Alice, to see that she was safe and

securely seated, then shouting one last time, he roared, “RARR, RARR, RARR.” With one

huge burst of speed, the sleigh rose from the icy ground, missing the tops of the trees by mere

inches.

It was quiet up there, in the black night sky, and although Rudolf and his companions were still

galloping at full pelt, not a sound could be heard from their hooves pulling the cold air for

traction.

Looking across to Alice, whose head was still tucked firmly beneath the blanket, the old man

said, “I’m sorry if I gave you a fright back there…”

Alice peered out from under the heavy blanket, and when she saw how high they had already

climbed, she let out a gasp of excitement. “Are we really flying?” she asked.

“As sure as there is a Father Christmas,” he replied laughing.

Alice liked that; in fact she liked everything about the old man. “It’s so quiet up here,” she said,

looking carefully over the side of the sleigh and into the darkness below. “How high are we?”

“Not yet at our cruising altitude,” he said, “but when we have achieved it, we will be nine

hundred feet, give or take a couple of feet.”

“Nine hundred feet,” said Alice in surprise that anything could be so very high. “Is that as high as

the moon?”

“No, I’m afraid that it isn’t.” Father Christmas chuckled. Then gazing up, he said, “The moon is

over a quarter of a million miles away, not even my magical reindeers can get us that far.”

Alice laughed at the funny man, and he laughed with her.

“You can relax now, Alice, we’re at nine hundred feet,” said Father Christmas when they finally

reached their cruising height. “The air up here is as smooth as a hippopotamus’ hide.” And it

was, they might well have been on the ground for all the sense of movement Alice felt.

“Where do you think he is?” asked Alice, feeling down, thinking she might never catch up with

the hard-to-find Rabbit.

Stroking his bead, giving Alice’s question some considerable thought, the old man eventually

replied, “It all depends…”

“It all depends on what?”

“On where you think he might be…” said the old man cryptically.

Uneasy with this reply, Alice asked him to explain.

“You already know how things behave differently up here, in the north,” said Father Christmas.

“How left can be right, and up can likewise be down.”

“Yes,” said Alice, remembering her talk with King Tut.

“Being here so much of the year I tend to forget this, but for someone like you, Alice, on a

mission, this is perhaps the most important piece of advice I can give…”

The old man said no more after that, nor did Alice, as they crisscrossed over the icy wastes,

searching for the Rabbit’s neat little house. And he was thorough, for hour after hour Father

Christmas searched doggedly trying to find the Rabbit’s abode, until the coming dawn, chipping

away at the darkness, heralded a new day...

“I’m afraid that’s about it,” said the old man, finally admitting defeat, but tactfully saying nothing

about Alice’s unfortunate accident with the black cube. Pulling on the reins, Father Christmas

said, “Come on, Rudolf, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blixen –

we have a home to return to...”

“NO!” said Alice, ever so loudly, surprising herself that she had said it. “No, I must go on,” she

said, desperately looking down onto the bleak landscape for any sign of life. Then she saw

something, something moving. Letting out a shout in excitement, Alice tugged at the old man’s

sleeve, saying, “Look, look, there’s someone down there.” And there was, far below, barely

visible in the deep snow, a lone figure was moving silently along, apparently oblivious of the

eyes staring down upon him.

“Let me off, please,” said Alice, feeling a newfound confidence in her quest to find the Rabbit.

Looking down at the figure with some uncertainty, Father Christmas asked, “Are you sure that

you want to do this? Do you have any idea who he might be? You are more than welcome to

stay in my workshop, especially with Christmas being so near.”

“Christmas so near?” thought Alice, “but it’s not yet past October!” Then trying to put the matter

of Christmas, and whether or not it was actually that close, to the back of her mind, she replied,

“Yes, I am certain that I want to do it, and, no, I have absolutely no idea who he might be.” After

that she refused to say anything more on the subject and, instead, kept her eyes set firmly on

the figure below.

“Rarr,” Father Christmas whispered to Rudolf, “Rarr,” he whispered again, guiding the sleigh to

a soft landing a few yards in front of the lonely figure.

It stopped; the figure, which had been making its way silently through the snowy terrain,

stopped walking when the sleigh landed in front of it. Jumping out, Alice thanked the old man

and his reindeers for the wonderful ride.

“Take this,” said Father Christmas, handing Alice another black cube (though this one a great

deal smaller than the first). “If you need me, you can use it to call.” After that he lifted the reins,

shouting at the top of his voice, “Rarr, rarr.” Alice watched as the galloping reindeer whisked the

sleigh high into the early morning sky. Then they were gone.

After placing the cube safely into her coat pocket, Alice approached the silent figure, to

introduce herself. Straining to see its face (there were many layers of torn and tattered clothing

surrounding it), Alice said, “Good morning, my name is Alice, and I am pleased to make your

acquaintance.”

It said nothing; the figure, its head lowered, remained silent.

Undaunted, Alice repeated, “Good morning, my name is Alice, and I am plea,” She froze in fright

– the figure had raised its head.

Staggering away from the terrible visage, the scary figure she had supposed to be human, Alice

dove her hand into her coat pocket struggling desperately to find the little cube, which she been

given only a few minutes earlier. As her trembling fingers caught hold of it, and she pulled it out

of her pocket, Alice began wishing so very much for the old man’s speedy return.

She heard nothing; she saw nothing in the rapidly lightening sky, as all the while this silent

brooding figure, lifting its bony arm and even bonier fingers to where its lips should have been,

whispered ever so quietly, “Wait…”

“Wait?” Alice whispered, afraid.

Whispering again, it said, “Wait…” Alice watched on in horror as it moved its bony arm and

pointed on ahead of them through the heavily falling snow.

“What are you?” she asked, yet afraid to hear the reply.

Barely audible, it said, “I am death…”

“Death?” Alice whispered, shuffling away from it in growing fear.

“Yes, death,” it replied, “but also life…”

Now this confused Alice and she began to wonder whether the terrifying figure might perhaps

be only a figment of that overactive imagination her parents were so fond of telling her that she

had. However, the figure remained stubbornly present. So, guessing that it had to be real, she

plucked up the courage, and asked, “How can you possibly be both life and death, when the two

things are such opposites?”

The figure, its breathing laboured, its bony arm outstretched, showing the way forward, said no

more as it began gliding away from her.

“Do you want me to follow you?” Alice asked quizzically. “I thought I was supposed to wait!”

Without saying a word, the figure continued on its way in the whiteout conditions. Alice followed.

After the wonderful friendship and warmth of Father Christmas and his little helpers, Alice felt

only an icy coldness from the skeletal thing gliding over the ground ahead of her. However,

despite its terribly foreboding demeanour, she so wished it would speak some more. She so

wished it would say something – anything friendly to cast away the fears she harboured that it

was pure evil. It didn’t. It just kept on gliding; its bony arm outstretched pointing the way

forward…

The snow continued to fall, but Alice struggled on, following the figure, picking her steps

carefully in the treacherous arctic conditions. It was hard going with no rest breaks, only a bony,

foreboding figure for company and the faint hope that the White Rabbit’s neat little house was

somewhere ahead.

Alice walked. The figure glided. She was tired. It kept on going. She felt like she had been

following it for hours, but it continued moving on ahead of her, into the snowy darkness, without

saying another word.

A blister began to form on Alice’s foot, and, with each step she took, it grew that little bit more

painful, that little bit sorer and that little bit closer to the point where she feared she would have

to say, ‘NO, I can’t go on another step.’ Despite the acute pain, Alice forced herself on for

another mile (or was it two?), before the blister suddenly burst, soaking her foot in its clear

liquid, sending her crashing to the ground in agony, shouting, “I can’t go on another step – I

can’t.”

The bony figure stopped; the travelling was now over, the journey complete and the purging

been done. Standing outside a strange building, Alice was at her next destination.

With no warning as to the how or the why, the pain in Alice’s foot suddenly stopped, and she

was so surprised by this, she removed her shoe and sock to inspect the burst blister and see

what actually was happening to it. As she laid eyes on her foot, Alice was astonished to see

that the blister had disappeared, that it had completely healed leaving no sign that there had

ever been a blister there in the first place. “To be sure,” she said, “it’s gone. What a curious

thing to happen, but then hasn’t everything up here been curious, come to think of it…”

Alice inspected the building. It was large, with leaded windows and ornately carved columns,

one on either side of the door, and she was yet again surprised to see a reminder of Christmas

– a holly wreath attached to the front door. Donning her sock and shoe, she said, “I wonder

where I am?”

Approaching the door, she gave it a loud knock. “If there is anyone inside,” she said confidently

to herself, “they will be in no doubt that they have a visitor and, hopefully, I will be invited indoors

where I can warm myself at their fire, away from this snow. Alice shivered at the mere mention

of the word snow.

The door creaked open by itself. Alice called out, “Is there anyone there?” She received no

reply. The wind began to pick up, sending the falling snowflakes in through the open door and

far down the corridor. “I will catch my death of cold if I remain out here,” she said as she bravely

stepped into the ominously quiet building. “Hello, is there anyone at home?” Alice called out as

she made her way down the long corridor, through a white painted door and into a large room

devoid of all furniture. The only thing Alice found was a crackling log fire in a grand fireplace.

“Well, at least I’m out of the cold,” she mused positively as she warmed her hands in front of

the golden flames, “and away from that dreadful figure – he had such dreadfully bony fingers, in

fact he had a such dreadful bony – everything.”

From out of the corner of her eye, Alice saw a mouse running, navigating the room along the

white painted skirting boards, and with nothing better on the agenda to do, she decided to follow

the little rodent as it disappeared beneath the far door. Following it, Alice opened the door and

tiptoed into the next room. Once inside (it was as sparsely furnished as the previous room),

Alice caught a fleeting glimpse of the mouse as it scuttled along the skirting board and under

another white painted door at the far side. Again showing no hesitation or fear, Alice turned the

handle, opened the door and passed through into the next room. Unlike the previous ones, this

room was anything but sparsely furnished – there was furniture absolutely everywhere! In fact

there was so much furniture Alice had difficulty in finding a free place to stand, without bumping

into something or other.

Holding her breath, keeping her tummy in, Alice made her way through one of the many isles of

furniture, squeezing past tall cupboards, presses and wardrobes until she arrived at an open

area to the rear, where two exquisitely carved chairs were standing.

“My, they are so beautiful,” she said, “I must try them out.” Sitting upon the first and larger one,

Alice liked it enormously but felt that it was perhaps a little too firm. So moving across to the

second chair, she sat down, trying it out for size and comfort. “I do like this one,” she mused.

“And it’s so comfortable I feel like taking a nap.” Alice yawned and yawned again and before

long she had fallen fast asleep snuggled up on the chair.

Chapter Six

Off With Her head!!!

Continued...

A Note: In total, there are sixteen chapters in his exciting story.

You can now buy the book by simply clicking on the blue button, below.

Happy reading.

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© Gerrard T Wilson 2008