She awoke, not with a start, but quite slowly. Her head was nestled on a very plump pillow and she was covered by a very warm quilt and, despite the nightmarish quality of her dream, she felt quite rested and refreshed.

 “Oh, what a lovely way to wake,” she murmured as she stretched and yawned. “I much prefer it to many of the other ways I’ve been woken some of which have been downright rude.”

 Sitting up, the quilt clutched to her chest, more for comfort than for modesty, she gazed around the room. It was unfamiliar which didn’t surprise her in the least. She might have been more surprised, in fact, had she recognized it.

 “It is quite lovely,” she mused, taking note of the view out the window. A garden. Very English with a variety of carefully cultivated flowers and small trees as well as a small pond and a cobblestone path. And one much larger tree. An oak, an inviting looking swing hanging from one of its sturdy branches.

 “Truly delightful,” she sighed, before turning her attention to the view within the four walls of the bedroom.

 “Whoever lives here is very fond of pink,” she noted to herself, for not only were the walls papered in pink, the entire room had been done in pink. A pink settee sat beneath the window. Against a wall was a pink writing desk and a pink chair. Her very plump pillow and her very warm quilt were also pink, as was the carpet covering the floor from wall to wall. Even the door was pink.

“Proof again, that I am merely a visitor here. Perhaps a guest. Hopefully not an imposter, for while I am quite fond of pink, I would never devote an entire room to the color. And now, that I am awake, I suppose I should explore a little…”

 She took a moment to peek under the quilt, giggling softly.

 “Starting with the wardrobe for I am quite indecent at present, although, in truth, I have been quite indecent for most of my adventures.”

 This time her soft giggle was accompanied by a blush that spread through her cheeks, turning them pink, of course.

 Not surprisingly, the wardrobe was full of various apparel in shades of pink. Several pink dresses. A few pink blouses. A pink pinafore. Pink skirts. Frilly pink knickers. Several pink shifts. Pink stockings and socks. There was even a pink bonnet.

 “I guess I shall be wearing pink today,” she mused while trying to decide whether she was in the mood for one of the pretty dresses, and if so, which one.

Eventually, she chose a somewhat plain pink dress, putting it on (sans knickers, for she was suddenly feeling very naughty) and admired herself in the mirror which, while not pink, reflected the entire room which was pink, giving it the distinct illusion of pinkness.

 “I suppose I should explore…”

 She never quite finished the thought, for she was suddenly aware of a rather melancholy melody being played upon what sounded like a harpsichord coming from somewhere beyond the door to the room.

 “I am, seemingly, not alone,” she decided, putting her ear to the door and listening carefully to the song.  “It seems that, whomever is playing, either has very little skill or has chosen an instrument that is badly out of tune.”

 Deciding to investigate, she ventured out of the room and found herself in small theatre. A very small theatre, for it had only a dozen or so seats facing a very small stage upon which sat an old man in tarnished armor upon a bench, his fingers clumsily picking out notes on a dull looking keyboard.

 “What a strange sight,” she mused, her attention on the seats, or rather the audience who were seated. Puppets. Marionettes to be precise, all resembling various animals, both exotic and familiar. Made of painted wood and cloth their strings danged from lifeless limbs onto the wooden floor.

 “Not a very lively bunch,” she quipped, smiling at her cleverness. At that precise moment, the knight (for a knight he must be, for who else would dress in armor) stopped playing, and turned towards her, his rheumy eyes blinking as if trying to focus on her.

 “Who is there?” he asked, his voice shaking with age, rather than fear.

 “Alice, if it pleases you,” Alice answered politely, recalling her manners when addressing the elderly.

 “It pleases me not,” the knight replied as he reached down to fetch a sheathed sword and a shield.

 “But it is the only name that I have, so pleasing or not, I am, indeed, Alice, good knight.”

“And good night to you as well,” the old man replied, suddenly slumping against his instrument. A moment later he was snoring loudly, causing Alice to shake her head with amusement.

 “I suppose it would be rude to wake him. Besides, he didn’t’ seem very fond of company. Perhaps I shall just leave him be.”

“I wonder which where to go now?” she mused, for while there was on door leading in, there were three – one painted red, one green, and one yellow - leading out. Four if you counted the door she’d just passed through, but she already knew where that led. Or had led when when she’d passed through it. She’d gotten very used to things not being logical.

 “Might I suggest the green door.”

 “Pardon?” she asked, surprised.

 “The green door,” the voice repeated. Alice realized that it was coming from one of the puppets. One that resembled a tiger.

 “Of course, it depends upon where you are bound for,” a second voice chimed in. An ass this time.

 “Nonsense,” retorted the tiger. “Regardless of where she is bound, the blue door would be the best choice.

 “And I say poppycock,” declared another of the puppets. A goat wearing a red vest.  “She should take the yellow door.”

 “Green door,” The tiger growled, showing its teeth. “Any other choice is pure folly.”

 “A costly but useless structure built to satisfy the whims of some eccentrics!” shouted the ass, stamping his hoof for good measure.

 “In France, folie means delight or favorite abode. Likewise, the term feuillée means a leafy arbor.” The goat declared, doing his best to look smug, despite the fact that he was a wooden puppet.

 “We’re not in France, though, are we,” Alice thought out loud.  “We’re in Wonderland. Aren’t we?”

 “Not exactly,” the ass said with a very horsey grin. “That is, it all depends on your point of view.”

 “My point of view?”

 “Exactly.”

 “And which door you take,” added the tiger, his nose twitching as if he was about to sneeze.

 “Foolishness,” snorted the goat, rolling his eyes. “Frivolity run amuck.”

 “So were I to take the green door, I would end up in Wonderland?” 

 “Perhaps,” the ass said, nodding.  “Or perhaps-“

 “That reminds me. There is a very famous riddle concerning tigers and doors,” The goat interrupted.”

 “There is also a very famous riddle concerning three blind men and an elephant.” A fourth puppet entered the conversation, this one, unsurprisingly, a wooden elephant with tusks painted ivory. Now how does it go?

 “I am afraid I’m not very good with riddles,” Alice admitted.

 “That’s the spirit,” commented a zebra with orange and yellow stripes.  “Best to give up before you’ve even started.

 “I haven’t given up,” Alice retorted with a frown. “I was simply admitting-“

 “In the land of the green glass door, there are riddles but no answers, sheets but no blankets, and books but no words. Name something found in the land of the green glass door!”  Shouted the goat gleefully.

 “Please, this is all very confusing,” Alice said, stamping her foot on the wooden floor and sounding very cross indeed.

 “Rabbits!” declared the tiger.

 “That makes no sense at all.”

 “It does if you’re a rabbit.”

 “Oh… muzzlefumps,” she swore. At least she thought she swore. The word had just popped into her mind and out of her mouth and it certainly sounded like a word that one might use upon stubbing their toe upon a large stone.

 “And you said you weren’t very good at riddles,” the Ass snickered.

 “Please be quiet. I am trying to think.”

 “Don’t take too long,” the elephant said, glancing towards the doors nervously.  “They’ll fade and then you’ll be trapped here. Like us.”      

 “Trapped?” Alice queried, suddenly alarmed.

 “I was once a Nubian prince,” the Tiger answered, his voice sounding sad.  “With a great harem full of the most beautiful women and wealth beyond your imagining and now I am but a puppet.”

 “I was a Scholar,” the goat added. “Respected and loved.”

 “I was an actress, sought after by kings,” opined the Ass.

 “And I was a great warrior, known for my bravery and skill,” the elephant said.  “Respected and feared throughout the land. And now, look at me. Wood, string, and cloth.”

 “If you dally, you’ll share our fate,” the ass warned. “Best to choose quickly and be gone. Look! They’re already fading!”

 Alice glanced at the doors. It was just as the ass said. The doors seemed to be fading from view.

 “Oh, dear,” she gasped,  “I suppose I shall have to choose one.

“The green door!” shouted the Tiger who once had been a prince. “Choose the green door!”

 Seeing as how it was as good a choice as any, and not wanting to waste any time, Alice said her farewells and hurried towards the green door, reaching it just before it faded completely out of sight…

 The door led to a hallway that was also green and seemed be carved out of glass. She paused, startled as the door slammed shut behind her before disappearing completely.

 “I guess I will just have to see where it leads,” she told herself, stepping further into the hallway.

 Then a very curious thing happened. It felt like she was falling. It wasn’t a sudden descent, and it certainly wasn’t terrifying. In fact, she seemed to be falling quite slowly. Still, it was an exhilarating feeling. Looking down, she realized that she was actually falling down the hallway which apparently wasn’t an actual hallway, but rather a hole or a shaft. Reaching out, she touched the side, her hands sliding along the smooth glass as she continued her descent.

“I wonder where I shall end up this time?” she thought out loud, not expecting an answer. Nor did she get one, which, all things considered, surprised her just a little. Wonderland did have a way of doing exactly what one least expected.

 She wasn’t sure how long the downward journey lasted. Long enough that she was able to get in a short nap. When she woke up, she was still falling as well as beginning to show the pangs of hunger.

 “A nice meat pie would be welcome. Or perhaps a slice of cake or a biscuit. Oh, but look, I seem to be nearing the bottom.”

 Indeed she was. Below here she could make out a wealth of color. Mosaics, perhaps, or painted pebbles. The closer she got, the larger they appeared. Poppies, perhaps, but not pebbles. They smelled quite lovely.

 “At least I shall have a soft landing.”

 She did, settling down lightly amongst the flowers, their soft petals breaking her fall, such as it was.

 “And they smell so lovely. Intoxicating, even,” she declared, gathering up a small bouquet and holding them up to her nose. “Very lovely…” she murmured, feeling suddenly a little strange.

 “This is much like the narcotic that…hmmm… I… very lovely indeed. I feel… nice. But not at all myself, whomever myself is, and… such wonderful colors. And the sky is so blue…”

 She tried to stand and then gave up, giggling softly, deciding that it was much more comfortable sitting down.

 “Sitting down is very nice,” she told herself. “But I would imagine that laying down is never nicer.”

 And with that, she promptly lay down and stared upwards at the clouds which made such wonderful shapes in the sky.

 “A cat. A dragon. A tree. A fish. A very pretty woman…”

 The first four had been clouds, The last, however, was neither a cloud nor was it floating in the sky. It was, in fact, not an invention of Alice’s imagination at all. It was, indeed, a very pretty woman.

 “Hello,” Alice said, smiling brightly as she attempted to sit up. Failing that, she decided that remaining prone seemed like a much better idea.

 “Why, hello,” the very pretty woman responded. She was dressed in a white dress that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight and her hair was a very rich shade of silver. She regarded Alice with eyes that were blue and seemed to sparkle with humor. Or perhaps it was mischief.

 “I wasn’t expecting you,” the very pretty woman continued.

 “I wasn’t expecting you, either,” Alice responded before deciding to introduce herself properly. “I am… I… I seem to have forgotten who I am… How very strange.”

 “But not unexpected. You are lying within a field of Forget-me-dos.

 “Forget-me-dos?”

 “Yes. I think you’ll find that all your memories are gone. What is the last thing you remember?”

 Alice thought very hard for a very long moment.

 “Laying down and staring at the clouds?” She finally said, her forehead wrinkled. She was sure she should remember something from before that, but…

 “Are they… gone forever?”

 “No. Just faded for a while. In time they will return. In the meantime, you can create new memories. I am Glinda. And you, my little pretty, are in Oz. Welcome.”

 “Oz.. Alice repeated, wondering if she knew where that was. “I.. I am… Oh, dear. I have no idea who I am. Or where I’m from… and you are very pretty…” She lay back, spreading her arms out above her head, and giggled softly as she watched a cloud shaped like a sailing ship floating past in the sky that seemed somehow familiar and yet wasn’t.

 “Thank you, dear. As are you. I don’t suppose you remember anything as important as your name?”

 “No. But I think I’m not wearing knickers although I have no idea why. It feels nice, though.”

 “It’s the flowers,” Glinda told her. “They have that effect. Not only do they make you forget. They also make you feel… ‘nice’.”

 “I would very much like to kiss you,” Alice retorted, feeling that it was very important that the pretty woman – Glinda – knew.

 Glinda laughed, kneeling down alongside the nameless girl who had been, until very recently, Alice, and tapped her on the nose with her wand.

 “They have that effect as well,” Glinda said with a smile as she ran her fingers through her soft blond curls.

 “And I would very much like to be kissed.”

 It seemed perfectly natural to reach up and pull Glinda down on top of her and do just that. Kiss her. Not a friendly peck on the lips, either, but a kiss full of hunger and longing and desire, and dear it be said… lust.

 “Perhaps you should take a look,” Alice said, quite breathless, for Glinda’s return kiss has also been full of hunger and longing and desire… and perhaps more than just a hint of lust.

 “A look?”

 “To see if I’m really not wearing knickers.”

 “I see.”

 Alice sat up, propping herself up on her elbows so she could watch the silver-haired woman hike her skirt up and peer under it.

 “You most certainly are not wearing knickers,” she announced.

 “I thought not,” Alice said, beginning to sigh, for Glinda’s fingers had begun to roam along the insides of her thighs, and it felt quite lovely.

 “That’s very… nice.” Alice purred, lifting her knees and spreading her legs in what she hoped was an inviting way.

 Apparently, it was, for Glinda continued doing whatever delightful things she was doing with her fingertips. And then with her tongue. Alice’s sighs and purrs became moans. Her trembles became quivers as she lost herself in what could only be described as ecstasy.

 For a brief moment she wondered if she’d ever felt anything like this. And then, that thought was pushed aside as she felt something wild and wonderful welling up inside her, centered directly between her thighs.

 “Oh my. Oh my,” she panted, her eyes rolling back in her head as Glinda’s ministrations sent her to yet another unexplored (as far as she knew) world. “Oh my. I’m… I’m… going to-”

 And she did.

 She felt the breath being sucked out of her as fireworks seemed to light up the sky. And then, when it was all over, she simply collapsed, a satisfied smile on her face, and closed her eyes,

 “That was…”

 And with that thought, she sank into an blissful oblivion.

 oO

When she awoke once more, she was alone. Her pink dress was draped over the flowers near her. And Glinda was gone. Sitting up, she did her best to catch her breath, for she still felt the phantom-like touches of the woman’s tongue against her damp thighs.

 “Oh my,” she repeated once more. Her attention upon the dusting of glitter that seemed to cover her nakedness.  As she sat there, she mused, trying to remember something. Anything.

 “It would be nice to remember my name, a least,” she said with a sigh. “Otherwise how will I Introduce myself to strangers?”

 But try as she might, it was lost to her. She did, however, conjure a memory of a young woman sitting beside the bank of a stream, which may, or may not have, been an actual memory.

 “She looks like a Victoria. Or perhaps, a Melody. Maybe an Emily. Oh dash and bother. Surely I can remembers something as simple as my own name!”

 Determined, she began listing every name she could possible thing of, beginning with the ones at the end of the alphabet and working backwards, growing more and more sure, with each name, that it wasn’t the correct name, until finally she reached ‘A’. Ava. No. Aurora. Perhaps not. Annabelle. Definitely not.  Abigail. It has a nice ring to it. Alice…”

 She sat up even straighter, her eyes widening. “Alice. That feels… I do not have the words. Familiar, perhaps? Alice. Well, since I have just about run out of names, and this one seems like a nice fit, I think that, until I remember differently, I shall introduce myself as Alice.

 That settled, she dressed once more and stood, surveying the field of forget-me-dos and the world beyond. To one side of her stood a stand of trees. A wood. To another, vast fields of corn. Upon another side were hills and on the other…

 “A village,” she declared, clapping her hands together. “Perhaps there are villagers as well, and they are friendly, and will be happy to offer me a warm meal, for I find myself suddenly famished. And perhaps they can offer me advice, as well, for I can’t for the life of me decide what to do next!”

 And with that, she set off for the village, a spring in her step as she picked her way through the flowers. By the time she reached the cobbled road that led there, she was practically skipping whilst humming under her breath a song that must have had words at one time, none of which she could currently remember.