1 post tagged “summer plans”

New Story : Children's series

 

Alice in the Reading Room

 

A long time ago, far, far away, there lived a little Princess by the name of Alice.

"Don't run Alice, you will knock holes in the ground, then what shall we do - we will all have to get on our hands and knees and fill in the holes now, won't we?"

 

"Yes," replied Alice rather curtly. But, not to curtly, less her mother, the Queen of Edingborough, sometimes called the Rat's Nest, would frown disapprovingly. And, disapprovingly just might mean that poor Alice would be shut up in the Reading Room.

 

"And, you  know what that would mean Alice," warned her Great Aunt, the Royal Dutchess of Edingorough, "you would only have the mice to play with."

 

Well, that did not sound to good to Alice who had visited the Reading Room before. And just in case Alice was sent to the Reading Room she was always sure to bring along with her, Milo, the Royal house Cat Sitter, a strange cat with pointed brown ears that matched his long brown twithered coat and feet.  A cat with piercing yellow eyes to match his aging disposition.  Milo was such a strange cat that poor Alice was sometimes known to blame Milo for almost everything that fell out of place - like her nightmares.

 

"Why did you scream Alice?"

"It was Milo," she cried, "he was sitting at the end of my bed, watching me, and when I looked up, all I could see were his glaring yellow eyes which looked quite red in the dark and I thought he was a ghost."

 

"A ghost in Edingbourough Castle?" quizzed the Dutchess of Edingborough in a low whisper, "Nonsence child!" she scolded as she looked carefully over her shoulder just in case a real Ghost was listening. Or, sometimes, it was easier for poor Alice to charge the mice with a misdemeanour.

 

"Who ate the last piece of chocolate cake Alice?"

"A mouse did it?"

"A mouse?"

"Yes, a mouse. I saw him. He ate the whole thing."

"It must have been a rather large mouse?"

"Yes, it was. He was the most enormous mouse I had ever encountered."

"Well, we must look for this mouse, mustn't we?"

 

Her Grand grandmother's queenly brow rose up a notch or two as she folded her arms in front of her long black queenly gown that gathered the dust off of the floor as she walked slowly back and forth.

 

"Fetch me my cane Alice at once!" Alice watched the dust fly about err be it as slowly as her grandmother's march. "We must go a hunting for this rather rude if not hungry mouse."

 

 Alice obeyed quickly for children of any age must obey their betters especially when the better of the crowd carried the families jewels albeit stolen from pirates and such. And she was equally as quiet and quick to follow at the sound of the her Grand grandmother's heels as they scoffed slowly along the hallways towards the Reading Room.

 

"I am sure that you will find the mouse after an hour or two in here Alice, don't you think?"

 

Of course Alice already knew that her Grand grandmother did not expect her to answer and Alice had learned a long time ago that she could hold her breath just as long as anyone's else in the castle.

 

Alice peered into the Reading Room before venturing into it herself. "Quick girl! Don't test my impatience you impertinent young thing!"

 

There now! Grand grandmother had done her duty and Alice knew that she was sure to advise the whole household where Alice had disappeared to in such a sorrowful hour. After all, Alice was only six years old and everyone in the household must be told what happens to six year olds that watch a mouse eat the last piece of chocolate cake or pie. It is not that the last piece actually belonged to anyone. It was just that everyone would lie in their beds at night thinking about who it might belong to and one thing stood out in their Royal minds - it did NOT belong to that darn mouse.

 

"It was an Irish mouse Grandmama!" brooded Alice through the closed oak door reddenen with ages of saging oils and creams. If there was no one to blame for anything - then there was always the Irish.

 

"The Irish is it?"

 

Alice did not dare to look around but instead she merely browsed along the wall keeping her back to the dark voice behind her. She played with a doll that sat on the floor.

 

"What is wrong with Louise this time?" asked the man who was too rude to identify himself.

 

"She had a fall and won't wake up."

 

"What will you do?"

 

"I shall read to her till she wakes up," ignoring the sound as best she could.

 

"Perhaps I could choose a book for you?" Without waiting for an answer, a hand reached up high and lifted a book out of the maze of dozens of books that reached from the floor to the ceiling and that formed a wallpaper of authors and twits around the entire room until poor Alice was completely surrounded.

 

The book was handed to her without her looking up to say thankyou. Alice opened the front cover.  "There is nothing on the pages."

 

"Look again Alice and read with your heart not your mind."

 

"Once upon a time a long time ago there was this little town in the middle of nowhere sitting on rocks and twigs.  The men of the town," she read into the ears of Louise, "were valiant brave men who defended the town from all foes." She looked at Louise to see if she was still breathing and maybe she would like to wake up to hear the rest of the story.

 

"One day the men of the city decided to chase off of their boundaries their neighbours to the west, silly, soft men who idled their time sitting and singing songs as they watched their cattle and their lambs chew on the best of the grass. Grass that was close to the homes and the boundaries of the men in the town in the middle of no where."

 

Alice checked Louise's pulse.

 

"Come fight with us you heathen!"

 

But, none of the heathen would come and fight with their most gallant hero a man as tall as the trees, whose weight and size was that of three men, who carried a shield and sword the weight of a horse. Not one person came forward but a young boyish man.

 

"He's kind of short isn't he?" mused all of the men from the town in the middle of no where that sat on sand and twigs.

 

"Well, he is kind of handsome with those golden locks and ruby cheeks," replied at least one of the women.

 

"He is but a boy. A fly for me to catch and squash. A ant for me to stamp under my foot."

 

"Why do you not send me a man?" snorted the tall man with the heavy shield and the long sharp sword, "instead you send me a boy with only a stone and a slingshot!"

 

Alice slammed the book closed, the echo of which sounded throughout the room and sat up fully into her chair.  She must stay awake and be  on guard against anything and anyone that might not be in tuned with her Grandmama's thinking.

 

"I think I will choose my own book thank you!"

 

In the room was a tall ladder used by the adults to push back and forth across the floor in front of the books.  Alice pushed the ladder watching it as it tilted back and forth, and forth and back, as she tried to line it up in front of a row of books.  Finally, she climbed the ladder to reach for a book that had caught her eyes but no matter how high she climbed and no matter how much she reached with her fingers she just could not touch the book. If she was to reach any further, climb any higher surely she would fall. Defeated she regressed back to her chair that waited for her in front of poor Louise who laid on the table like a dead person mute and quite cold. Louise's face was a sheet of whiteness with just a touch of  pink to her thin lips. Alice picked up her washcloth and dribbled some drops into Louise's mouth and washed her face, arms and feet before retiring the wet cloth across the brow of poor Louise's forehead.

 

Milo in the meantime had been busy wagging his tail anticipating the arrival of a mouse albeit an Irish mouse. From corner to corner he trailed about sniffing the floor as Alice played the host and the nurse. Surely, he, Milo the Cat Sitter, would catch this Irish mouse and when he did there would be "hell to pay" for as Alice's Great Grandma had warned.

 

"Milo!?!" screamed Alice in horror, "What do you have in your fowl mouth?"

 

Milo looked up without releasing his grip as blood oozed out onto his teeth. "You let go of that mouse right now, do you hear me?"

 

But, no matter how hard Alice tried to pry open his mouth that "darn cat" would not let his captive go. Alice stopped twisting Milo's lips and grappling with his jaws. Instead she yanked the cat's tail rather roughly. The cat howled in pain, released his grip and off ran scurried the poor Irish mouse blood flowing from the puncture wounds dribbling small spots of blood across the floor. Alice gasped when she as she watched the frightened mouse race for an exit, falling and rolling around from time to time from the pain. Milo had sufficiently recovered enough to pounce again, over and over again as the mouse tried to evade his attacks. Fretfully, Alice jumped over and behind things as she tried to intervene to save that "darn Irish mouse."

 

"What will you give me to help you?" asked the voice, "will you give me half a crown?"

 

"Half a crown for an Irish mouse?" Even that cost was too much for Alice to fathom. "You sir are not an Englishman." His accent had betrayed him. "You are from..." She had to think. Where was he from? "the south?" The south of where? She had watched him at her grandmother's funeral, the daughter of her Grand grandmother, as the Minister of Defense, zoomed in closer and closer to him like two peas in a bag. "You are from the America's aren't you?" she asked the voice that she would never look up at.

 

"Half a crown indeed just to save an Irish mouse?"

 

Alice had to think. How much was a half a crown? She thought of all the monies that she had seen. How does a six year old calculate half a crown?

 

"I don't have a crown with me to cut in half," she retorted quite pleased with herself.

 

"Would you give me half a crown to save Louise?"

 

"Half a crown to save a mouse? Half a crown to save Louise?"

 

Alice needed to think.  She looked at Louise who was her dearest best friend in the whole wide world. There she laid out in a soft cream dress that spoke of riches and lace.  She looked at Louise's fine fingers that never picked up coal nor dug in the ditches. It was her choise.

 

"You realize that if Louise did not come to life that you would be queen someday. If Louise did come to life it will be Louise that goes to the throne before you."

 

Alice had to think. She looked at Louise with her fine straight blond hair flowing over the sides of her pretty face. "But, she is my friend," whispered poor Alice. Would it be a sin not to pay the price for her release? Would riches be a better choice? Power? "You said that she would go to the throne before me but that doesn't mean that I will not go to the throne does it?"

 

"You will be the last."

 

"For half a crown, I would get the Irish mouse and poor dead Louise would come back to life?"

 

He did not respond right away but merely lifted a hand to touch the back of a strand of hair on poor Alice's head and backed off.

 

Alice watched as the cat pulled the Irish mouse by his foot across the floor to deal him the death blow. She looked back to Louise and nodded in agreement to half a crown. "Split down the middle your majesty?"

 

"Split down the middle."

 

"You must never leave this room."

 

"Why not?" asked poor Alice.

 

"If you leave this room, you will be a mortal."

 

"Mortal?" What did that mean? "Is that similiar to morsal?" Alice knew what morsal meant - it meant a piece of food - a crumb. "No?" replied the voice.

 

"Mortal? Is it similiar to immortal?"

 

Alice was watching the mouse climb over book after book.

 

"And, what will that Irish rouge of a mouse give me back to save his life?"

 

The mouse stopped to catch his breathe: his heart beating rapidly and his eyes gleaming wildly in fear and excitement. He had nothing to give her. If he was a man he would not even be able to read to her from a book because he had not been taught. "A Royal Irish mouse unlearned and unskilled how did that happened?" Alice asked the voice that had gained an audience with her. The idea of an Royal anything being cut off from food, home and education was a horrible truth unbearable to young poor Alice's soft ears and heart. "And if he was a man what would you do?"

 

No sooner had Alice said the words and the mouse grew into a man. A man with dark threatening eyes, a handsome thin face, dark long hair that clung to his face like wet fingers.  His face was almost as white as Louise's but red splashes blushed from one cheek to the other. His lips were thin but evenly red.  It caused Alice to step back and her heart to race as her eyes screened his torn clothing stained with his own blood. "This is what I would do?" The words were forced from between his lips. With one hand, he reached out and grabbed the cat by his throat in one quick chase.

 

"And how shall you pay me back for I have lost half a crown?"

 

His eyes bowed for a moment and with cat in  hand he climbed the ladder and retrieved the coveted book down from the shelf.  The book that Alice had not been able to reach. He climbed back down to hand the book to little Alice.

"Do you know the name of the book that you handed to me?" Alice looked up into his uneducated dark eyes that held her own. "It is called The Holy Bible. It is the most important book in the world." The words seem to stun the Irish mouse.  For a moment he cast his eyes away in confusion to cover his embarrassment.  "I could read it to you." Alice shut the voice behind her by closing her ears momentarily.  "It contains the most delightful stories about people...and if you were an Irish Jewish mouse...you could learn about the people that lived before you and..." He looked away and down to  his dirty hands that were covered in grime. Alice stopped speaking.  Her Grand grandmother was right about her after all.  She was a most rude child. "Any other child would have held her tongue."

 

"Things would never be the same if I were to give away half a crown," lamented poor Alice. The Irish mouse looked at his clothing disarrayed by the fight between himself and the cat. What else could he give her? In his land everyone was dying from one thing or another. It was a genocide of a different type. What did the voice whisper to Alice? Only Alice knew.  "Jehovah says that you will be made strong." And, all that for "half a crown."

 

Alice's hour or two was almost up. Surely, Grand grandmother will be sending someone to open the door and surely someone will find Louise fully recovered. The question still haunted her.  "What do you mean...if I leave this room I will be a mortal?" The question was a curious one. Was she going to share this mortality by herself? What if she were to leave the room together with the Irish mouse? Would he turn back to a mouse, a mortal Irish Jewish Mouse?  His eyes seem to know what she was thinking even before the answer flashed into her eyes. "We don't have to go through the door?" her eyes replied. There was another way to escape without going through the forbidden door. It was an escape clause built into the wall by her Father a long time ago. Quickly and loudly she tapped one of the bookcases and a small trap door opened just wide enough for a child and out she slid leaving the occupants of the Reading Room to themselves. At her heels was the Irish Mouse. His belt buckle caught on the sides of the escape hatch.  "Take it off!" screamed poor Alice, "Unbuckle yourself!" And that he did and all that was left in the mouth of that English cat was the pants that the poor mouse was wearing.

 

"What about Louise?"

 

"She'll be alright. Grand grandmother will see to her needs." After all, Grand grandmother had the keys to all the doors, did she not?  "I must leave you Alice. I can't take you with me." He bent down to gather her royal hands in his. He was most handsome with his dark eyes and his black hair and rudy cheeks. "But, I won't forget you."

Alice smiled. Nor should he. She was sure that there paths would cross over and over again like ships passing in the night. Nor could she leave not without permission from the keeper of the keys. He would be alright. Louise would be allright. She looked up to the window of the Reading Room. Milo would be back guarding her bed during the long nights and the pantry. Grand grandmother would still be calling Alice to fetch her cane. And Louise, she will have them tote a cot to her room where Louise could lay in bed and read to Alice all the stories that Alice could not read for herself.  They would be like two peas in a pod, like the Bronte sisters, like the Jane Austins.  They had years yet to live with all sorts of books and adventures to explore.

 

As for Grand grandmother and the Dutchess of Edingbourough they would do their nightly rounds together at last.

 

"Alice? Where did all the chocolates go?"