Alice familiarized herself with her new room while she waited for food. She avoided the rather large, plush looking bed that beckoned her to come hither. She knew the moment she even thought to touch it she would fall into a deep slumber and would miss out on eating a real meal. Instead, she studied the intricate woodworking of the bed frame itself. The legs spanned out several inches to look like tree roots while the foot of the bed was bordered with what appeared to be branches reaching up and out. At the very head of the bed, which was quite remarkable, it looked as though the branches shot up toward the ceiling, reaching forward to cover the mattress in a canopy of leaves from above. Surely it wasnât a real tree, though, right? The leaves swayed and shook as though she was standing outside with a soft breeze flowing across a valley where it was only her and that tree, and yet, there was no breeze at all. In such a moment, Alice allowed herself to smile.
This was magical. She loved everything about it and wished she could meet the woodworker that crafted such a masterpiece.
Her gaze left the bed to drink in the rest of the room. Overall it was dark and cold. It looked as though it was dusted recently, perhaps that was an easy spell to cast. Alice always had to clean by hand, so what did she know? She stepped over a rich green rug, glancing down as it, too, seemed to move like blades of grass in the wind. How enchanting. There was a dresser that looked like a sturdy, wooden chest with intricate carvings of vines that wandered up and around to the various knobs that were shaped like roses.
Even with all of its beauty, the room held a heavy atmosphere that felt like the gravity was amplified a little too much. The need to sink into the bed only grew stronger. Pacing toward a window that looked out toward the back of the property, Alice opened the shutter that covered the windows and looked out, only finding unidentifiable shapes of hopefully trees and various other shadows. The darkness had rolled in quickly and nestled along the land without any moonlight to offer clues about this unknown. She frowned, but continued to try to discern what it was she saw. She leaned forward, standing on her toes to better see down more directly, but that too, offered no help.
A chipper, high pitched voice sang at her door. Alice jumped. She turned, looking at the door. She never did inspect it to see if it locked. Another time, the voice called out. It sounded like a hyper little Elfling, or some other small creature, if she wasnât mistaken. There were times some of them would come to the bakery to purchase goods for their masters. As the voice attempted to get her to come to the door again, Alice quickly opened it only to find that no one was there. A platter was sitting on a tray, waiting for her. She leaned out, peering either way down the halls. Witch-lights bobbed lightly up and down as if they were floating along a calm ocean water, but there was no sight of any being. Alice picked up the tray, finding a small table that could sit two comfortably in the corner of the room. She then went back to close the bedroom door, noticing that the tray the platter sat upon had vanished. Alice glanced behind her inside of her room, hoping nothing was hiding in there, waiting to jump out and frighten her. The past few days had been troublesome enough. Her fingers clutched the handle of the door pulling it shut. She found it did have a lock.
âGood, then. . . at least thereâs thatâŚâ she thought.
Alice sat at the small table, enjoying a fantastically cooked meal. The food â thank the Gods! â was real. With the lift of the lid, the steam that carried the warm scent of lamb and carrots billowed up toward her nostrils, causing her to inhale deeply with a heavy sigh of an exhale following it. She savored every bite, trying her best not to waste any of what was given to her. She wondered where they purchased their produce from, as she ate. Aliceâs mind drifted to the thoughts of finding ingredients for a simple bread recipe, noticing there was no roll with her meal. Her thoughts drifted further into a mist of randomness and she dragged herself over to the bed. Just as she expected, it lulled her off to sleep. Perhaps it was the loopiness of an overly tired Alice, but she was even sure the bed, itself, swayed as if it were a large branch of a tree.
Alice wasnât sure how long she had slept. There was no real indication of time that she could visibly see. She, being an early riser, was always up before morning light hit. She attempted to open the shutter of her window like before, but it wouldnât budge. It was particularly odd that it might have been stuck when it worked perfectly fine hours before that. She fumbled around in the low light of the room. She could see decently enough, but the witch light was dimmed to almost nothing and she couldnât recall seeing any candles around to light one manually with a match. She sighed. Her food tray was still sitting on the table, so at the very least, she could tell herself no one had tampered with the room while she was sleeping. She wondered what she should do with it though.
Returning to the door of her room, she unlocked it and looked back out into the hall. It seemed creepier than it had before. Chills ran up her spine and she shut it, holding her hand against the hardwood for a moment. Her heart was throbbing with sudden anxiety.
âGet it together. Itâs fine. People live here and they clearly havenât been murdered from some hallway evil spirit.â
She wandered back to the bed. Normally she would go down stairs and turn on the ovens, but she wasnât home. She didnât even know where the kitchen was. What was she supposed to do with her time all while stuck in the dark? Alice laid back with her head on a plush pillow trying to make out the leaves that still softly swayed up above. It was at least relaxing. Perhaps she could think of it like a vacation.
Or something. Alice rolled onto her side as she pulled a blanket up over her frame. First thing she wanted to do was find a candle. Or at least her bag. She never did look for it the previous night and there was no sense in doing so then either.
Several hours had gone by, probably. Alice had attempted to sleep, nearly succeeded, only to startle herself awake again thinking she might be burning something. She groaned and pushed herself out of the bed again. Pacing was her next plan of action. Alice went to and fro, just waiting for something in the room to change. It seemed not long after she had started that the bed seemed to tremble against the floor. The grass-like rug grew longer and wrapped around her ankles as if trying to hold her captive. Alice froze the way most girls would if theyâd seen a bug. She looked down and as she did, the witch lights in her room blasted with the brightness of two suns. They flickered in and out as suddenly her shutter was no longer stuck, but smashing open and shut against the sill instead. Her door, along with the dresser doors followed suit and with all things considered, perhaps the rug was trying to keep her safe.
Alice, looking like a startled woodland creature, stood wide-eyed in the middle of the room. A loud scream sounded from somewhere below and she hugged her arms against her chest.
âNever mind. People get murdered here every day. I was wrongâŚâ she muttered. She was attempting to joke, to make herself laugh, but humor was often best served to others, not oneself.
As the manor settled down, Alice felt the rug release her. Her chest was tight and she wasnât entirely sure she was even breathing anymore. She dropped to her knees, sitting on the floor like a broken doll, abandoned for all eternity. What was wrong with this place? After a knock on the door and instructions she was sure she would somehow get wrong, Alice pushed herself up off of the floor with trembling arms.
Alice searched for her bag as she stood in place. She didnât see it right away, though she wasnât feeling willing to give the room a more thorough look. She slowly took a step toward the dresser, poking it with a singular finger to test whether or not it would fly open at her. Nothing budged. Slowly, Alice added more fingers onto the rose knob before she wrapped her grip around it to pull it open. To her surprise, the drawer was nearly empty with all but a folded note inside. As she lifted the paper, the drawer filled with the same blood red colors of the uniforms the house servants wore. Startled by clothing that appeared like a sink backing up with old water, she jumped back. Alice looked at the note, unfolding it to see the written words inside of it.
âAliceâ
That was it? She flipped the card over in her hands several times. There was nothing more. Alice pushed through the folded clothing, looking for anything other than red. She hated wearing red, it didnât go well with her frustrating hair; the tones were noticeably different. She frowned and chose to stay in the night gown she had slept in, which was a simple white. There was a long, grey cloak that hung on a hook near the door in which she used like a robe to cover herself. She didnât bother with the hood, of course. She wasn't going to wear servant clothing. She would just find her bag.
Barely dressed and slippers on her feet, Alice opened her door, ready to ask for the whereabouts of her clothing. It was possible they hadnât made it into her room yet, or perhaps she had missed them. Shutting her door upon her exit, she turned and went in what she hoped was the proper direction. Her footfalls were soft as she padded down the hallway. As she took another step, she found she needed to place her hand against the wall beside her. It felt as though someone was squeezing her head and causing her vision to strain. She steadied her footing as she looked around nervously. Everything seemed fine. She took several more steps forward, and although the stairs were in sight moments ago, with what felt like another dizzy spell, they were suddenly a fieldâs length away from her. Alice turned back to find the room to her door, but as she moved back, it made no difference. Every which way was pulling itself
away from her. She spun, trying to find anything to focus on.
âJust. . . just get to the next thing you⌠the next doorâŚâ panic was settling in again. She mustered up the strength to move forward. There was a doorway in sight. Even so, she just couldnât reach it fully. A cool mist coiled around her, chilling her to the bone. She looked down to find wisps of fog spinning around her ankle like a snake. What was it with this manor and things grabbing onto her feet?
"Tell me about your accidents, Alice! When was the first one?" a shrill voice cut through the air.
The voice broke her silent horror and she spun, only just then noticing a painting on the wall. Had that always been there? She tried to remember but it hadnât been something sheâd bothered to notice earlier on. Alice felt her leg growing colder. Her toes were practically frozen while the chill moved up to her knee. Perhaps she should have opted for the red suits after all. Alice tried to pull her leg free from something that shouldnât have been able to hold her in the first place. She tugged with such force that although her leg stayed tethered, the rest of her fell down onto the cold, hard floor. Her leg, slowly being devoured, was far too distracting for her to listen to some pompous painting that taunted her with words of accidents. What accidents?
The chill expanded and began to consume her other leg. She whimpered as she attempted to drag herself away with her hands along the never ending floors of the halls. It hadnât even occurred to her to call for help. Perhaps it was just the idea of finding herself in a crimson suited murder house that had her in such a mindset. Alice pulled the cloak close to her body for warmth. The fabric flew over her and the mist recoiled away from it. Alice, suddenly hopeful, took the cloak in her hand once more, flinging it out and over her feet. The mist retreated, hissing as it did. Alice, legs still frozen and heavy, covered herself in her cloak from head to toe, curling herself into a ball in hopes to just stay there until she was hopefully found.
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