SILENCE IN WONDERLAND (#AStormOfFanFiction)

I - 'What in the World?'

I stared.

And stared.

And stared at the dreadful thing my current employer called an 'efficient system of communication.'

Any minute now.

Aaany minute now.

Any. Minute. Now.

And then, plink!

Ha! Right on time.

The metal missive-container landed on my desk. Hurriedly, I reached out and unrolled the message inside.

Mr Linton,

Bring me file 459M

Rikkard Ambrose

The side of my mouth curled up into a sneer. Well, back to basics huh? What happened to us in Egypt and in the Brazilian jungle must have now been stuffed together with all of these files before me.

That's the typical Mr Rikkard Ambrose for me though. He's the only man I know who could keep a horde of secrets until his death.

Ours included.

So, with a deep breath, I placed the cylinder down and proceeded to locating the file he needed.

Lifting my head up, I searched and sifted through the boxes, taking note of the particular number and letter he mentioned. It didn't take me long to realize the file he needed was located at the top most of the shelf.

I huffed and placed my arms akimbo.

Alright! What to do?

Out from the corner of my eye, I noticed a stool near the door. Without a second, I neared it and dragged the thing right under the location of the box. I stood on top it and stretched my arms up.

But guess I made a wrong choice.

Quickly, all manner of balance and the perception of being upright vanished before me. I came hurtling down the ground with not so much as a cushion or warm arms - preferably my employer's - to cut the impact of my fall.

With a loud thud and a radiating ache in my head, back and buttock, my sight quickly dimmed.

But you know what was seriously funny?

I saw the face of Mr Rikkard Ambrose in a body of a white rabbit wearing a top hat. He was grinning down at me, mischief clear in his eyes.

My bones chilled right on the spot then. He doesn't grin. Oh no. But if he does, things get problematic.

*

*

*

'Mr Ambrose, Sir, the Queen of Ifrits asked you a question,' someone said in front of me.

But 'me' as in me - Lillian Linton - a feminist, fighting for women equality and the right to vote and hold office - now somehow got called as Mr Ambrose?

Now that's a new thing.

With a surprised face - or lack thereof, I looked at the man with hard eyes.

The man, whom I recognized as Karim, was dressed as a butler. A butler! Ha! Would you look at that! Complete with a starched black suit and white gloves, he gazed down at me as if I'm nothing but a measly cockroach.