Writer's Island Epiphany

The prompt this week at Writer's Island is Epiphany.

EPIPHANY

The entire corridor fell suddenly silent as George’s final question hung in the air. Elvira and Bart exchanged nervous glances, edging slightly closer to each other, wondering what exactly was moving towards them.

”What’s going on ?” demanded George in her most aggressive tone of voice, “What’s that?” she pointed over Elvira’s left shoulder to a strange circle of light which moved with an unnerving grace towards them, closer and closer. It seemed to be almost like a candle, but then it had no substance to it whether it be wax or something else, no substance at all only light. The group of figures became suddenly aware of the presence of Alice, the little illustrated figure with her black and white edges curling as they slightly moved, edging into the limelight, falling to her knees- centre stage all the time. Elvira watched her uneasily.

“What’s going on, Alice? What’s wrong?” She asked quietly, trying to take Alice’s paper thin hand. But the little girl pushed her away.

“Leave me alone!” she cried out in a shrill shaky voice. “This is my moment! You may have thought I was only a Victorian illustration, dead and gone - but that’s where your wrong. I’m still alive, and I’ve seen the light. Here it is, it’s moving towards me - this is my moment, my moment of awakening. Everything else is nothing, it’s all nothing… it doesn’t matter. You all don’t matter… I don’t matter either, in fact nothing matters. We’re all just figures from books.”

For a while nobody said anything - for what could be said in reply to such a statement of truth? Then George took a step towards Alice’s papery edges, reaching out and tentatively feeling them. For a moment Elvira wondered if she would rip them deliberately and she got her wand ready to raise if necessary, but Gorge pulled her hands quickly away from Alice as if the feel of the old paper stung her.

“Well whoever you are, I don’t know what you’re talking about… but it all sounds pretty religious to me… and I certainly don’t go along with all that great spiritual awakening stuff. It ‘s all rubbish and went out with the Victorians - which is maybe where you belong. I don’t know who you are… I’ve never read your book and I must say I’m glad.” Alice wavered slightly as though wondering whether to turn the page. Her voice rose in the air once again, even shriller as though touched with panic.

“How can you speak to me like that? You must have read Alice in Wonderland surely… how can you possible diminish my spiritual awakening, even if it wasn’t made explicit in the book? This is it, it’s happening now.”

The tall man standing behind George suddenly laid his hand on his daughters shoulders and cleared his throat loudly.

“You’ll forgive me for interrupting your little scene… but George, don’t you remember me giving you Alice in Wonderland when you were younger? Surely you remember that?”

George stared at Alice’s illustrated form aggressively.

“Well, maybe… but I don’t remember the story at all, so it can’t have made much impression on me,” she muttered. The strange circle of light still hovered a few feet above their heads, glowing with such an unnatural brightness that its reality seemed very doubtful to all of them. George continued stabbing her forefinger towards Alice, each movement punctuated her words. “All the Victorians were religious - and that’s obviously where you belong back with them, you should never have left them… what are you doing here anyway? We’ve come on quite a long way since those days of great spiritual awakenings… all that crap, all that rubbish - there’s absolutely nothing to awaken to, no truth, no nothing. I’m a real modern boy, don’t you know?”

Behind her Uncle Quentin took his hands away from her shoulders with a marked air of significance.

“Do you mind Georgina? May I remind you that you are not in fact a boy, you… you’re my daughter? Whether you’re religious or not, it doesn’t make any difference.”