An Alice In The Wonderland Retelling
Seventeen-year-old Eleana Rosenberg lived a terribly mundane life with her adoptive parents and sister before she was swept away to a world with wormholes in the form of rabbit holes, deadly gorgeous shapeshifter...
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The drawbridge groaned lumberingly, it's chains clinking as it was lowered. The wooden monolith was a slab of sturdy vastness, spanning across the extensive waterbody with a width that could easily match the length of the Titanic. Saying that it was large was an understatement—the thought of crossing it was enough to make my already aching knees weak.
I never thought it was possible for such a large piece of wood to be quite so strong, it would have bent and splintered into half by its own weight under normal circumstances. The chains appeared increasingly chunky as the moat was lowered towards us, they were as thick as tree trunks, and I doubt I could wrap my fingers around its metal links.
The drawbridge finally settled with a single echoing thud several feet away from where Xen and I were standing. Absorbed in the movement of the drawbridge, I had not taken notice of what laid behind it's arched doorway.
Humongous blazing torches were mounted on both sides of the doorway, their white hot flames appeared monumental even from a distance. The fire casted a bright sheen across the surface of the drawbridge, and the emerald walls within. With the radiant light of the torches and the darkness of the approaching night battling one another, intricate cravings framing the top of the archway stood out starkly.
Guards could be seen scuttling thru and fro at the archway, shouting barely audible instructions and information at each other. I released a sharp breath, awed by the magnificent display.
"Well, here we are. Impressed?" Xen spoke up.
"Rhetorical question?"
Xen snickered dismissively, turning his attention back to the huge entrance, where a carriage had emerged, and was quickly approaching, drawn by a pair of horses trodding forward in rapid speeds. The carriage rattled to a stop right in front of us within moments, making me doubt the distance it had actually travelled.
The carriage was a deep green, its surface reminded me of satin—smooth and very expensive. Elegant loops framed the set of wheels on both sides, weaving into elaborate patterns that conjoined and webbed around the edges of the carriage. It could have been the green alter of the Gold State Coach. The coachman sat on a poor and prettily disguised excuse of a seat; a mere plank extending from the main body of the carriage.
