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TNÖ Writes Wonderlan
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TNÖ Writes Wonderlan
TNÖ Writes Wonderland Fanfiction.
I think I finally crossed the boundary into "crazy Wildhorn fangirl" territory. Because... seriously. I'm writing Wonderland fanfiction. Of all things. >_> (For those who don't know [which is, um, all of you?], Frank Wildhorn is like America's version of Lloyd Webber only more obscure and way more awesome.)
Wonderland was a broadway show that ran for 31 performances before it closed. It is, as you ought to have guessed by now, yet another adaption of Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass (I believe "inspired by but unfaithful to" is the way they phrased it on the script itself. Yes, these people are awesome). It's campy and mad and everyone involved clearly had a caking good time and it's pretty much awesome.
ALICE, in this version, is the mother of probably-12 to 13-year-old Chloe, married to Jack, who recently lost his job. She and Chloe have recently moved into an apartment in New York—sans Jack—and as the show opens they are both MISERABLE. Alice not least because she has just received a very cruel rejection from a publishing company ("dark nightmarish tone seems inappropriate for young readers...especially the pessimistic, downbeat ending"). Also, she hit her head in the service elevator and appears to be concussed. So she goes to sleep, and goes to Wonderland.
Therein she meets, in order, the Caterpillar, El Gato the Cheshire Cat, and Jack the White Knight. Jack promises to help her get back home, and they go to the Mad Tea Party first, hoping that someone there will be able to show her the way home. There Alice meets the Mad Hatter, who is [a] female and [b] hell-bent on overthrowing the Queen of Hearts and installing herself as Queen of Everything (as she is already Queen of Looking-Glass-Land). Also she really doesn't like Alice.
MORE STUFF HAPPENS, all of it fascinating but unnecessary for you to understand my point, and at the end of the play (spo-oilers! :D) it is revealed that the Hatter is... what she is... because Alice was meant to come to Wonderland when she was Chloe's age, but forced to grow up before she got the chance (it is implied that her parents were killed and she had to take over as caretaker of three younger brothers). And the calamity that caused the growing-up also sort of created the Hatter and she's been sort of a dumping point for a lot of Alice's negative emotions since then ("You were meant to come here years ago, but when real life interrupted your childhood, I came into being. Ever since then, whenever someone's broken a promise to you or broken your heart, that has become a part of me."). It's very heavily implied that the Hatter has been sabotaging Alice whenever possible, and more lightly implied that she's been doing this because she will cease to exist if Alice gets too happy. And then she gets banished to what appears to be a literal hell of some description. It's all very tragic and she desperately needs a hug even though she is EVIL [evil enough that the Queen of Hearts is the better alternative, not just for Alice but everyone. Yes, the people who she might randomly decide to behead too. The Hatter is nasty].
((Also, Kate Shindle BELTS. That is all.))
...You can probably guess where this is going. YES I am predictable I know. (To be fair, in this case, one of the reasons I love this show SO CAKING MUCH is that there is literally not one character I dislike. The Hatter is my favorite, true, but. Alice is awesome. Chloe is awesome. The Queen of Hearts is awesome. Jack and El Gato and the Caterpillar and Morris the March Hare and the White Rabbit and, and everyone is awesome. That's hard to accomplish, and it's fantastic.)
SO after this enormous tl;dr, basically what you need to know is: I'm writing fanfiction about the Hatter. Starting at the very beginning. Bwah.
If you want to (and I reccommend you do), the cast album AND a video recording of the last (or second-to-last?) Broadway preview are both on YouTube and listening to/watching them would... probably help this make more sense. ((And I did mention that Kate Shindle BELTS in this, did I not? It is worth watching/listening to JUST FOR THAT. And the rest of the cast is hardly snoozing either. *fangirls them all*))
Ahem.
Have the first little bit. It is horrifically angsty and I apologize (but suddenly popping into existence like that, and under those circumstances, has got to be PRETTY TRAUMATIC, AM I RIGHT?).
Also the pronouns get a bit ridiculous towards the end.
The poem at the beginning is the riddle that the Hatter poses to Alice right before telling her that Hatter=Alice's Dark Side.
*******
Though eyes I have, they have no sight
I can’t be seen in black of night
If I move left, then you move right
In looking glass, I come to light.
~
She was fourteen the first time she woke up. There was a vague, niggling feeling in the back of her mind that that was—not right, somehow, but she couldn’t think why. It was hard to concentrate on vague feelings of wrongness when shock and grief and anger and confusion and fear were tangling up her thoughts like a spider’s web twisting in a strong wind.
Who am I?
It was a simple question, and that made it all the more terrifying when the answer came at its heels.
I don’t know.
The knot of emotions unraveled and became blinding panic, and for a few minutes she could barely breathe for trying to scream and being unable to.
She let out a little whimper and her legs gave out underneath her, and the sharp pain in her knees as they hit the ground brought her back to her senses somewhat. The panic receded back into fear, and the rest of the feelings came back, all the more powerful for having been ignored. Her head swam with them.
Shaking her head dizzily, she collapsed the rest of the way—her cheek came to rest on a clump of damp clovers. She shivered as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
“Alice? Alice, honey, please look at me?”
Alice sits with her lips clamped together, swaying back and forth a little as her fingers dig into the underside of the cold plastic chair she sits on. She shakes her head forcefully. Mom and Dad are going to walk through the door any second now. They’re going to get ice-cream to celebrate Dad coming back from his business trip, and Mom will yell at Fred and Peter for trying to get ice-cream in each other’s hair, and Teddy will beg and whine for an extra scoop, and this isn’t happening.
“Ali?”
It’s Teddy’s voice that brings her back to reality, small and quivery and afraid. Little Teddy, the youngest of them all. Alice looks at him and the tears come just like that.
They’re gone.
Pain seared suddenly in her ribs, and she jerked upright with a little cry.
What…?
There was a curious feeling in her throat, now, a kind of tightening sensation and an itchiness that made it difficult to breathe properly. She put a hand on either side of her head and pressed in, hard, trying to rid herself of the pain and the feelings that she couldn’t understand. It took her a moment to realize that the high, keening noise she heard was coming from her own mouth.
“Whatever are you doing there?”
She shrieked and jerked around, ending up half-sprawled on the grass and staring wide-eyed up at the person who had spoken.
The Queen—it had to be a queen, she decided, because there was a crown sitting lopsidedly on top of her head—had a shawl clutched haphazardly around her shoulders, and she was leaning down with a vaguely kind expression.
“I don’t know,” she said, startled to honesty.
The Queen blinked. “Well, then, who are you?”
“I don’t know.” Frustration bled into her voice this time.
“You must have some idea. This isn’t the woods, you know.”
She didn’t have any idea what that was supposed to mean, but irritation started to prickle at her thoughts. She was not in the mood for this. “Well, I don’t,” she snapped.
The Queen straightened up and fussed with the end of her shawl for a moment. “Oh!” she said, quite suddenly, and then peered into her face with shock.
“What?” she demanded.
The Queen spun on her heel and, with a terrified scream, ran.
She watched her go with a little scowl. The irritation had turned to a sticky, hot kind of feeling around her shoulders and creeping up her neck, and, while it wasn’t exactly pleasant, it was better than… before, so she welcomed it.
The Queen had disappeared entirely by now, and as there didn’t seem to be any use in staying here much longer, she struggled to her feet—hampered somewhat by the overlarge raincoat that she was wearing—and tried to take stock of her surroundings. It was difficult, because anger had darkened her peripheral vision and she was starting to cry again and everything hurt.
Still, she could make out that she was on a little hill, and that the fields stretching out before her were laid out in a very regular grid, divided by little streams in one direction and evenly-trimmed hedges in the other.
Like a chessboard, she thought, and a weird giggle bubbled up her throat.
She wondered why the Queen had run away like that, when she’d seemed so pleasant before.
*******
Thoughts?
submitted by TNÖ, age 18, Deep Space
(June 23, 2012 - 1:53 am)
(June 23, 2012 - 1:53 am)
Whoa. Amazing.
(July 12, 2012 - 1:50 pm)
First--good. Very good. A friend of mine is writing an Alice in Wonderland sort of twisty-thing and she is a brilliant writer and this, I think, is even better than hers. Not that I can judge too much, given that I have been forced to listen to her read hers for two hours straight, several weeks in a row, and I have only read this bit of yours, but still. This is good. Plus, I like fanfiction. I don't write it myself, because at the moment I am still an "aspiring author", which as far as I can figure out means that it will be several more years before I can actually write something worth reading. But I really, really appreciate a good fanfiction writer.
Secondly, you've been on here for what, four years? I have read probably just about everything you've written on here, because I'm creepy and stalkerish like that, and dang, girl, are you a good writer. From sci-fi to Harry Potter to Doctor Who to God-knows-what-else, everything that I've seen you write is brilliant. You are what I aspire to be.
(July 18, 2012 - 9:47 pm)
Aww, thanks. I'm glad you like this! (and if you like this, you should watch the show on youtube. because it's about a million times better than this and there is SINGING and WILDHORN and it's all kinds of brilliant. #unabashedfangirl)
re: aspiring writer: Practice makes everything better! I've been writing literally since I learnt how to read (and believe me, my Folder of Shame is enormous). And don't think of yourself as an aspiring writer. You're a writer-who-is-going-to-become-a-better-writer. Because aspiring writers are those silly people who go "boy I'd like to write a novel one day" but never actually pick up a pen and get started. So the point is, write all the time and write fanfiction if you want and if you decide it sucks you can just shove it into your Folder of Shame without showing anyone but you shouldn't do that because critique is a good way to go about the becoming-a-better-writer part. /runon Although there is something to be said for letting ideas simmer for a while before starting on them, instead of just writing them down immediately, because then they form more fully and you will wake up in the middle of the night and write ALL the things. Or maybe that's just me. *shrug*
(August 1, 2012 - 12:12 am)
Also, what were you doing posting things at two in the morning??
(July 18, 2012 - 9:48 pm)
I do my best writing in the wee hours of the morning. This does not help my insomnia problems. Heh.
(July 31, 2012 - 10:55 pm)
Have some more.
Che=the Chesire Cat/El Gato
Morris=the March Hare
and animals are described as having hands 'cause that's how it is in the original books. Yay!
*******
Wonderland was in an uproar.
Of course, Che thought as he dropped his chin onto his hands and peered downwards to better take in the scene below, Wonderland is usually in an uproar.
But right now it was in more of an uproar than usual, which was quite something.
“What do you mean, she’s not coming?!” The Hatter’s eyes bulged in his head and he yanked on two fistfuls of hair as he shouted. His leg made a spasming motion—Che had never quite decided whether that particular tic was intentional or not—and jostled the table so badly that most of the tea in his cup sloshed over into the saucer. Not that that was unusual.
Morris was, given the circumstances, surprisingly calm. He lifted one hand and pushed those ridiculous little sunglasses up the bridge of his nose—they slipped down again immediately—and said, “Just that she’s not coming. There’s been a change of plans, apparently. That’s all I’ve heard.”
The Hatter’s whole body twitched this time. “But then we’ll have thrown this whole tea party for nothing!” he wailed. His leg thunked against the table and upset more tea.
“Hmm.” Morris carefully plucked the Dormouse out of the nearest teapot and poured himself another cup, the last one having been emptied by the Hatter’s most recent kick.
Che twitched his tail and narrowed his eyes at the little party below. While he hadn’t accepted an invitation to a tea party in years—it was too much of a bother to get the tea out of his fur afterwards, and spades forbid that the Hatter hold a tea party in which the party-goers actually drank the tea instead of spilling it all over the place—he often sat invisibly overhead in hopes of picking up news of the goings-on in the royal court. The White Rabbit knew everything that went on in the palace, and Morris could usually be relied upon to know most of what his cousin did.
Not today, apparently. Of all days. Che unsheathed his claws, digging them deep into the bark beneath his hands, and lashed his tail harder. They hadn’t had an Alice in years and now, finally, on the day they were supposed to get the next one, she wasn’t coming.
The Hatter was shouting nonsense about custard and beans now, and Che shook his head. With Morris acting useless—deliberately useless, Che could see the calculating look in the March Hare’s eyes—Che knew he wouldn’t be able to glean anything more from the tea party. He got to his feet, stretched luxuriously, and leapt away.
He suspected that this was going to have very bad repercussions some day, but not yet, and that meant that there was more than enough time for a nice nap in the sun somewhere.
(July 31, 2012 - 11:05 pm)