When the rain falls, expect the unexpected.
She was tired. With all the events that happened that day, the name calling, shoving and the mocking laughs that spat at her face, Alice wanted nothing more than to sleep her life away. It was an unsettling feeling in her mind that wanted her to enter that room. It was the people that spat names at her face. It was all those useless souls that haunted her day, which caused her to pull the strings out of her twilight hair. Alice hated the fact that everyone at her school did that every single time like it was on replay, but she’d just bottled it up and sighed.
After all, there was no use on dwelling on the little events.
It was bucketing down rain, splashing furiously down at her soles. The trees dropped in sadness when the tears from the clouds trickled down their cheeks. When Alice strolled past, they just dropped even further. She watched with a twinkle in her eye as people waddled past her in a hurry. She chuckled; how amusing they were. Alice had always wondered, in her jumbled mind, why anyone would flee like this. This, the rain, was once in a blue moon opportunity.
Alice adored the rain as much as she loved chocolate. Both had an amazing smell; one unbelievably sweet and the other naturally sour. They both were involved in her life like her twin brother. While chocolate would stare sweetly at her and beg to be eaten, the rain would glance cheekily and, somehow, seduce her to come closer. It was a form of hypnotism.
Alice was so caught up with her debate in her head that she forgot to look where she was going. Her shoe met with a crack in the concrete. Her leg bent forward. Her face made contact with the floor, causing Alice to give it a smooch. Her eyes grew to the size of golf balls; she pushed herself up and wiped her mouth roughly. She glared at the pavement. Curse that thing, Alice thought.
Oddly though, Alice did notice a minor detail. It was so small, something that any pedestrian could overlook it. Not Alice. She was the predator of spotting any mistake.
The pavement was grey. Now, that may seem far too normal for any ordinary person, but Alice knew better. Much better. As she recalled, her street was swarming with white tiles that spread across the floor. As she thought about this, the more it made sense. Alice was in the wrong street.
A sudden feeling of panic swept through her mind; Alice slapped herself mentally. This was no time to be frustrated!
As Alice stood, she took in more of her surroundings. She was standing outside of a friendly house, with a picket fence as white as snow. The windows winked at Alice in the sunlight, which caused her to shield her face. Alice scanned the rest of the neighbourhood. Every house was an identical copy. She rubbed her head in thought. I should ask someone…I’m lost after all.
With that decision in her mind, Alice marched up to the door. Standing tall and head held high, she knocked on the door. Silence. Her face scrunched in confusion; she knocked again. Nothing. Irritated, Alice called out. An answer came and the door swung open.
Nervously, she stepped inside. It was very welcoming; the smell of freshly brewed tea ran throughout her senses. Alice smiled as she continued to call out to the home owners.
However, as much as she didn’t want to admit, there was a strange scattering noise. The noise echoed inside the walls. Alice paused, redialling her breathing tone to a lower decimal. The noise grew louder and ever so closer. It screamed in every direction. Alice clapped her hands over her ears.
Suddenly, the sound stopped. Her breathing went hitched; the noise was clear now to Alice. Those pattering and tapping of their tiny feet made her brain more alert. Alice thought she wouldn’t live to see another day. She went grey with horror. Her palms felt clammy. All she could hear was white noise, nothing.
The noise was back and was it quick. Alice then apologized rapidly for intruding and retreated to the door, daring to not to look back. Something was stalking her; the feeling shuddered down her spin. Alice spun around and saw something to her horror. It haunted her for the rest of her life.
Two pairs of red eyes. Blinking.
Alice screamed, “RATS!” She jolted out the door, yelping for her dear life.
The two said rodents were confused. One of them was anyway. The male rat smirked, “That’ll teach that human a thing or two for trespassing!”
His wife sighed, “Roger, that was very mean.”
“Diana dearest, everyone is mean.”
Diana crawled back inside of the wall. “Not everyone,” she chuckled.
Roger rolled his eyes. “Sure, Diana.”
He closed the door of that house. That was the last time, in that neighbourhood that was, that anyone heard of poor, little Alice.