Through the Looking Glass…
In the Garden
Quentin forced himself up, dragged a razor across his jaws, gulped down a pot of coffee, and hopped on his newly painted bike. Then engine roared to life, and he headed the forty miles that would take him to lawyers. Thirty minutes later Quentin stood outside the doorway to the office of Alfred B. Norquist, Esq, senior partner of ‘Norquist and Emilio, Attorneys at Law’. Suits, he thought to himself
The affair was three hours of stacks of papers to sign, proof of identification, faxes, copies and phone calls, and finally Alfred Norquist handed him the keys to his former home, still attached to his mothers key-chain.
“Now, everything appears to be in order. Your parent’s will states that in the event of their untimely deaths, all property and monies were to be held in trust until your eighteenth birthday. It also says here in the trust that a Mr. Zebinsky was legal guardian until today, is that correct?”
“Yeah, he’s been my step-dad so-to-speak.”
“And this Mr. Zebinsky is owner of a…a bicycle shop?”
“Mr. Zebinsky is the owner of ‘Johnny Zeb’s Bike World’ one of the top custom motorcycle builders in the east coast Motorcycles not bicycles!”
“I see, I am sorry about your loss Quentin. I know it’s been a long time, but…”
“Yeah, you don’t ever get over losing your mom and dad.”
“I am sorry.” Norquist repeated. “Oh, there is one other thing…”
Reaching down into the cardboard container that he had been taking papers out of all day, Alfred Norquist retrieved a small fat envelope. Opening it, he pulled out a thin wooden box.
“I was instructed to give this to you. There was no other explanation, only that you were to receive this from me if anything should ever happen to your father – he was rather insistent about that.”
“Thank you.” Quentin said and simply placed the item in the cardboard box with all of the other papers and items.
“Your not going to open it?”
Quentin looked up at the lawyer who still had a hopeful expression, “Not here. Is our business complete?”
The lawyer, now a bit red in the face nodded. “Yes, everything is complete, you may go to your property. I would suggest getting a good financial advisor, that is a lot of money.”
“Thanks.”
With that Quentin strode out to the street, loaded the items on his already overloaded bike, and began the 3 day trip to the almost ghost town of Jerome Arizona, where the ruins of his parents house now stood waiting…for him.
As he placed all of the papers and other items into the any space he could, the thin wooden box of his fathers tumbled out and dropped to the pavement and opened. Inside was a single key of a dark dull looking metal blue like a rifle barrel. There was nothing else in the box.
“Okay dad, why was this so important?” Quentin mused. Stuffing the key into his pants pocket, he hopped back on his bike.
–#–
“We have the shard from the Dodson house?”
“Not quite yet sir, we are still having…complications.”
“I see. You realize that I am growing impatient, I need that shard, and the other.”
“We still don’t know where the other is.”
Adrian Demo turned in his chair, which had been facing toward the three story window of his opulent London mansion. “Actually I am quite certain that Dark hid the shard somewhere in Arizona near his house, which has just been deeded to his son. Now that the legal ramifications are out of the way, we can make a substantial offer to the son for the property and then I am sure we will find the other shard.”
“What if he refuses to sell?”
“If he refuses our generous offer, he will join his mother and father. The shard is there, and it will be mine. Now as to the Dodson shard?”
“The garden wall of Dodson’s house is part of a historic site, taking a boulder that size from the wall will not be easy, and will draw undue attention. The historic society has been quite reticent about our desire to acquire it from them”
“Do not worry about that Kern, this is what you will do. I have arraigned for a group of historical scientists to “study the formation” under the pretense that Mr. Dodson came up with the story of “Alice through the Looking Glass” when she got stuck in a hole the that boulder. We shall petition the historical society to allow us to erect a tent over the boulder, and as they are in financial straights as it is, our more then generous offer will make sure that we get what we want. What we will really be doing is replacing the boulder with an exact copy. With enough money given to the the correct people we will have the shard by the end of the week. The general public will notice nothing — besides hardly anyone remembers the story anyway.”
“What do you want me to do sir?” Asked Kern a bit nervously.
“I want you to go to the States and offer Dark’s son a million dollars for the house and land. You know what to do afterward.”
“You mean if he refuses to take the offer.”
Domo looked at Kern for several seconds as a slight smiled played around his lips. “Regardless if he takes the offer or not. That way I save a million dollars. Make it look like an accident of course.”
“Of course Mr. Domo.” With that, Kern left the huge office, walking quickly.
Adrain Domo watched until the door at the far end of the office closed. Reaching into a secret panel on the underside of his large hand carved mahogany desk. He pulled out a very old and tattered diary and opened it.
The Diary of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, May 18, 1868
I relate the events below with shaking hand and fevered brow, I have no real words to express what has befallen me. I have done the very best I can to explain to Alice what has happened, but those words are really empty because I myself have no understanding. It is with sincere hope and many prayers that I seek a means whereby I can bring both Alice and myself to accept what has happened, and to go on in life.
It all began when I was writing near the garden, preparing a story for Alice and the girls. She was exploring as she is wont to do…
“Mr. Dodgson!” Alice Liddell ran up to the tall mathematics teacher, out of breath. “You must come and see!” Before he could answer she ran off towards the gardens.
Charles Dodgson closed his writing book, picked up his quills and ink, and began walking slowly towards the garden, chuckling to himself and shaking his head. What have you found now Alice?
Whe got to the garden he saw that Alice was pointing excitedly at something near the ground of the garden wall.
“Look! Do you see it?”
“Um, what am I supposed to be seeing exactly Alice?”
“The hole! Do you see the hole in the side of the garden wall? See how it looks like a sheet of black glass?”
Charles bent down to get a better look. “That’s not a hole Alice…” Charles drew his face up to the black slippery surface and examined it closely, “it looks like obsidian–”
“No–watch this!” and with that Alice put her hand to the shiny black surface, and then Charles had to blink several times because her hand was now inside it, as if she had dipped her hand in inky black water.
“Isn’t it marvelous?” asked Alice, “It looks solid but it’s not really at all! It’s like a sideways pool!”
“Indeed! It’s unlike anything I have ever seen, but please Alice, you must take your hand out–”
“Oh Mr. Dodgson don’t be fearful it’s perfectly safe–” and with that she pulled her hand out, displaying it to Charles smugly. “So what do you think professor?”
“I-I don’t know! I have no words for this. But you mustn’t put you hand back through it, we do not know what could be on the other side.”
“Oh nonsense! I’ve done it loads of times! Look–”
But then her face seem drained of color, and she put her other hand against the black surface as if to push against it, forgetting that it was not a true surface. Now both of her arms up to the elbows were inside and she was being dragged towards the hole. “Mr. Dodgson, please help me!”
“Alice!” At once Charles grabbed both of Alice’s arms and gave a mighty tug, ignoring the little girl’s screams of fear. “Pull with all you have!”
Slowly Alice’s arms re-emerged from the black glass-like surface, then as her wrists emerged, they both screamed.
Two pasty white hands were encircled around Alice’s wrists, hands from whatever was on the other side of the wicked black hole. They did not have to wait to find out the owner. A huge green top-hat popped out suddenly, and this hat was perched upon a tiny head that looked as if it had been shrunken by cannibals, except for that fact that the mad, unfocused eyes were moving independently, and an unintelligible gibberish was coming from the insanely grinning mouth. And then the gibberish resolved into English.
“Soddy seh, but I mus’ insist you allow me to borrow this gel!” and he gave a tug so strong that Charles was thrown back with the force of it. Scrambling quickly to his feet he ran back to the black hole.
But Alice was gone.
I had no choice but to go in after Alice. Words do not tell the nightmare of that place on the other side of this world. I have tried to tell the story, a bit here and the bit there – Alice’s parents are non too fond of my visage, anymore and who can blame them. She seems to begetting on alright, but I have to wonder – can anyone go to that place and really come back without leaving something behind. How we spent so many years in that place and came out only moments after we went in! I begin to feel sick even now writing about it.
“Oh Mr. Dodson, or should I say, Mr. Lewis Carroll…What I would have given to see the look on your face as you crawled out of that shard! But soon enough I will have the entire mirror, and then I will be able to see and do anything I want!”
Domo carefully slid the diary back into it’s hidden space and turned once more to gaze out of his three story window onto the streets of London below.
David T. McKee
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