What once was curious is now dead…
Shortly after her thirteenth birthday, unhappy orphan Alice takes a tumble —- off a bridge, and into the Thames. But it seems that her misfortune has only just begun. Because where once was a Wonderland, is now a festering world of the unwanted dead.
Accompanied by a mouse- head bottle -top, Alice braves Undeadland, encountering as she does so the Mad Undertaker, the Knave of Broken Hearts, and the dreaded Queen of the Kingdom of Rot. As events take curiouser and curiouser turns, things look bleak for Alice. Will she ever find her way back to the land of the living?
The Gruesome Adventures of Alice in Undeadland
Sebastian Gregory
Sebastian Gregory (pronounced Gre-gory) writes from a cabin in the middle of a haunted wood. His inspiration comes from the strange and sorrowful whispers amongst the ghastly-looking trees. Sebastian is only permitted to leave the shadowy candlelight of the cabin once a story is complete, where it is unleashed upon the world of the living. Sebastian writes for the younger readers as they are easier to terrify than adults whose imaginations died long ago.
When not writing in a cabin in the middle of a haunted wood, Sebastian lives in Manchester with his family and various animals.
You can email Sebastian on [email protected]; he would love your feedback.
You can follow him on Twitter @wordsbyseb
Thank you to my family, who listened to my insanity and only occasionally rolled their eyes.
A special mention to Lewis Carroll, whom I spoke to extensively while writing this book.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
For most of her short life Alice had lived in an orphanage after her parents had succumbed to cholera. It was an unhappy place run by a cruel and crone-like mistress who wore ill-fitting black lace over old pale skin the colour of tripe. Her wrinkled face was coated in a thick powder and globs of red lipstick. She closely resembled an undernourished vampire” The mistress would dream up unusual and impossible chores for the children to undertake. Her favourite was having the orphans knit spider webs into scarves.
The trick was to catch the spiders first, a task not suited to children. The spiders were vicious and as Alice and the other orphans entered the dust-covered arachnid room the spiders would descend, biting, pinching, crawling in the girls’ hair, ears, under their rags and over their skin.
“Help me, Alice,” screeched Dinah, one of the smallest and youngest orphans, who Alice shared a close bond with. Being barely six years old, Dinah found life particularly hard in the orphanage and Alice had helped her through the trials of being there.
Alice shielded Dinah under her arms and sat her down. Around them other girls were in floods of tears and panic.
“Don’t fret, Dinah.” Alice smiled and held her hand; a fat, juicy spider climbed over tiny fingers trailing webs and spots of blood where the spider bit.
“Think of nicer days,” Alice explained. “I think of my parents and seeing their smiles.”
When the young ladies of “Miss Scrim’s Orphanage for Burdens” were unable to complete their tasks, the mistress created even more unusual punishments. Such as standing for hours — bare footed — in the leech bowl.
Miss Scrim had the girls in a line as she paraded in front of them.
“You,” creaked the mistress, pointing a finger that was more bone than anything towards the tiny Dinah. The other orphans sighed with a mixture of relief and terror at what was happening and what would happen next.
“You didn’t work as hard as you should. You must earn your keep if I am to keep a roof over your miserable head.”
“Please, miss,” she whimpered.
“To the leeches with you,” Miss Scrim hissed.
Dinah took a shuddering step forward before Alice caught her shoulder.
“Mistress.” Alice spoke. “It was I who didn’t work hard. I am sorry — Dinah was helping me,” she lied.
The mistress sneered and thought for a moment. “Then you feed my pets tonight,” she decided.
Alice stood in front of the bowl at her feet; the bloated leeches squirmed in anticipation. Alice placed her feet in one after the other. The feeling of the slime-riddled creatures feeding between her toes was not unlike putting one’s feet in a bowl of jelly laced with sewing needles. Once again Alice thought of her parents and let her mind wander to their arms.
Toys were prohibited at the orphanage; playtime was time away from work time, considered Miss Scrim. So the children made do with what they could, making themselves teddy bears of coal or dolls from nettles, sticks and mud. The girls of the orphanage slept in the damp and infested cellar. While in the lodgings above, Miss Scrim rented the rooms to unsavoury characters, leaving the orphans to huddle together in the dark. They slept amongst scraps with always one eye to the shadowy corners. Things of many limbs, things of many eyes crawled in those corners. There were stories of children sinking into the shadows. Upon the stone floor tiny nail marks were dragged and etched along.
“Where is Dinah?” Alice asked one evening. She had not seen her all day.
There was a moment’s silence before the reply came.
“Mistress sold her to a chimney sweep. Except…”
“Except what?”