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Chapter Three

Alice fell into limbo. How long ago had she done so? She couldn’t guess as no time had fallen with her. Even the sensation of dropping was very mild with only the slightest flutter of Alice’s dress and the awkward position of her legs indicating her journey downward. It was as such that Alice’s mind began to wander and she was wondering if anyone would be searching for her when suddenly the strangest of events occurred. Memories began to play out around her and scenes from her previous life appeared.

She saw herself as a five-year-old, all smiles and long blonde hair and pretty blue dress; she was showing her father a picture she had drawn. Alice’s father was smiling, and put his stethoscope around Alice’s neck, before grabbing her, smothering her in cuddles. The play disappeared as if made from wisps of smoke and was replaced by another.

It was her mother: Alice sat on her knee; her mother, kindly and beautiful, read from a book of rhymes. Alice knew exactly which one. She mouthed it along with her mother:

The queen of hearts,

Stole body parts,

From the cemetery one day.

The queen of hearts did sew those parts,

To keep herself ageing away.

Then tragedy forced itself before Alice. A scene she would never wish to see again but so strong she couldn’t help but watch. Her poor mother and father were in the parlour, seemingly asleep in their coffins. Alice’s father, the most generous doctor anyone had known, treated many of the very sick and poor. His kindness, however, fate repaid with pain and let cholera follow him home.