Here’s my bit for the Writer’s Island, this week prompted by time travel.
Just as everything around them appeared to fade away completely, somehow the definitions of the fireplace, the chess pieces on the floor and the back of the huge looking glass over the fireplace became sharp… so that suddenly they would change, the whole place was changed even though it remained the same. It was all bright, everything was lit by artificial spotlights which only added to the unsettling quality of the change that had taken place. The witch and wizard looked around nervously, exchanging glances.
“What’s going on, do you think?” Bartholomew said in a low voice, catching hold of the edge of Elvira’s robe as the two of them stepped instinctively closer together. “Have we travelled again? They never had lights like this in the Victorian era.”
“No… we’re back in our own time, maybe,” whispered Elvira.
“Well, then you can’t blame the floo powder this time,” muttered Bartholomew, staring around him at all the cameras. “who are all these people? And… wait a minute” he pointed over the still spellbound Alice’s shoulder to another Alice being made up to look the part. “don’t tell me were on a film set.”
Suddenly a serious faced man dressed entirely in black came striding towards them.
“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing on my set?” he demanded.
Elvira gave him a cool smile, shrugging apologetically.
“Sorry… I think we lost our way somewhere along the line,” she said with a nervous little laugh. She stared at the unshaven man curiously before asking, “you’re the director, I presume?”
The monochrome figure glanced at the witch quickly, drawing himself up to his full height - which was not much, but even so he had a certain air of authority.
“Of course I am. This is my film, my set… and that’s my Alice… I think.” He stopped suddenly staring at the strangely sketchy outline of Alice, who was just beginning to wake from her trance. The director glanced quickly over at the other Alice, still being made up amongst the cameras. “What’s going on? I thought you were Tabatha.”
The little girl who was being made up came running across to the director eagerly. She eyed the real Alice curiously.
“Here I am, Mr Burton… all ready for Scene One again.”
Elvira gave a little cry of astonishment, clapping her scarlet tipped hand to her mouth.
“You're not really… I’ve always wanted to meet you, I loved Edward Sissorhands. You look just like I always imagined you would… don’t you think so, Bart?”
Beside her, the young wizard nodded, speechless. Elvira continued, taking a bold step toward the famous director.
“I took my class to see your Alice in Wonderland last year… but I didn’t know you’d made Through the Looking Glass as well, what year is this, anyway?” The black clad director shook his head silently, struck dumb it seemed. But the little actress beside him spoke up.
“It’s 2014, didn’t you know?” she said with a high pitched laugh afterwards.“This is strange indeed!” cried Elvira, “What magic is this Bart?” Bartholomew made no reply, taking a hold of the real Alice as she came hurrying towards him, her sketchy outline bending beneath the weight of reality. Her papery face was dissolving into tears as she cried out, “Take me home, please! I want to get back to my book!”