I woke at midnight to celebrate a secret Halloween. Rolled up striped stockings, slipped into my nicest black dress with lots of panniers underneath, fastened my prettiest shoes I never wear, tied my hair in ribbons, imagined I had a pretty little black hat. I couldn't leave the house for fear of waking up the Lady and her Husband, so I went to Wonderland.
Bruder and Schwester were waiting there, in an odd village I'd never seen but called Home anyway. They had changed; they were the Bruder and Schwester from that time before, when they were a good deal younger and I was a little bit older, when it was only the three of us in that tree-shielded house, when we'd forgotten who we were again. They had dressed for the occasion, too. Hand in hand, we walked through the jack-o'-lantern lit village and into the Forest.
In the Forest, we met a story-teller. His stories were short and never seemed to have an ending; he told us several stories of girls who wandered in the woods at night and one story of a marionette who fell in love with a certain piper. As he began a longer story about a dead bride who fell in love with a living bridegroom, a crow picked him up in its beak and carried him away.
We walked deeper into the Forest where time stopped at midnight to the House of Sweets where time stopped on Halloween, stepping through the shortbread door to the some-hundred-year-old Halloween party. Spiced black tea and German biscuits and marshmallows and fine china made of sugar candy and a pumpkin pie (which, sadly, I had made with tinned pumpkin, as it was really July outside of the Forest) were set out on a Baumkuchen table surrounded by guests without faces. After tea, I carved a face into a red apple. The Hostess's sweet voice cut through the silent chatter, announcing that the dances would begin.
Bruder took my hand and asked me to dance with him. (I could reach his shoulder rather easily then, he didn't even need to bend down a bit.) The songs played from nowhere; some were blackberry jam, some were chocolates, some were crystallised ginger, some were treacle, all were waltzes. I danced blindfolded. Though I could remember the box step, my feet had forgotten it (as they hadn't waltzed in so long) and soon changed to the waltz I had learnt first, down-up-up, down-up-up, but they were still too slow to match the song's rhythm. Bruder smiled patiently. Finally, a slower waltz played; it didn't taste of sweets, only a starless night sky. Though it was such a death-like song, my feet were livelier than ever. Turning, then spinning, I fell into a dizzy sleep, but my feet danced faster and faster.
When the dance ended, the blindfold disappeared; though my eyes had opened, the room faded away (as did my feeling and my balance), and I heard myself land on the floor as though I had been standing beside myself. The room reappeared quickly, and I found the hostess standing over me, staring as though she were planning something. In that moment, I saw that the hostess was none other than Marienne (the girl Hans had been searching so sadly for). Upon hearing his name, her expression softened; 'Let's go Home together,' Bruder said. Before leaving, I contemplated whether or not I would eat the apple I'd carved (which I then realised was poisoned). I set it on the ground instead, and we walked together, Bruder, Schwester, Marienne, and I, away from the endless party in the endless night with its faceless guests.
I bathed in pumpkin and cinnamon and milk and honey and soap bubbles once Home. As we said our 'good night's, I leaned against Schwester's shoulder, which, naturally, surprised her. 'Just for now, please--?' Silently, she smiled a bit. I slept beside Bruder just as I had in that time when I always cried. 'Bruder?' I looked into his eyes, wider then than they are now (but just as gentle). 'You're going to disappear when morning comes, aren't you?' I could no longer look into his face. 'I don't want for you to disappear.' He smiled a little sadly and squeezed my hand. (I didn't see him smile a little sadly, but he always smiles a little sadly at me, especially when I cry.) I fell into a quiet sleep.
I woke to daylight and aloneness (as expected). Somehow, though, I'd felt as though nothing had been resolved, and, just as I'd thought that, I realised that I was still in Wonderland, still in that house I'd probably seen before and called Home.
Although I normally post photos and old-fashioned styled artwork, these images suit the story best; in order of first appearance, they are from: the animated music video for the song 'Mrs. Pumpkin's Comical Dream'; the opening video to the video game 'Zettai Meikyuu Grimm' (or 'Labyrinth of Grimm'); and the opening video to the animated adaptation of 'Umineko no Naku Koro ni' (or 'When the Seagulls Cry'). Also, please do excuse any technical difficulties; I tried to use a cut so that the post would not appear so lengthy on the main page, but it doesn't seem to be working, and now I can't delete it.
