Down the Rabbit Hole
Amy was always curious as a child, and it had always gotten her into quite a bit of trouble. But sadly, the world typically expects one to grow out of their childish curiosity by the time one gets to Amy’s age, but the young woman had never lost that spark.
That’s how she ended up falling down this rabbit hole.
It’s dark mostly except for the strange figures she sees in passing as she tumbles, head over heels down, down, down, and down until she stops. Amy sits up rubbing her head and wondering how she could’ve fallen quite this far without going splat, but she supposes she ought to just be pleasantly surprised she’s still alive.
Amy looks around the small room she’s found herself in and at the many, many doors she has to choose from that lead out of this little place where she’s busted an Amy-sized hole in the ceiling. After a while, she picks the one that tickles her fancy and steps through into a wonderful garden, all walled up with high stone walls that loom far above her head. The door clicks shut behind her, and when Amy reaches back to check it, she finds it locked.
“Oh bother,” she whispers to herself before moving on. There’s the pungent scent of rich earth and growing things, of flowers’ perfume and fresh, spring air. Amy follows an overgrown path to the heart of the garden where the flowers grow as big as trees and seem to watch her as she walks by underneath. After a while, she hears the faint sound of someone singing, and she slowly approaches a man garbed in blue sitting on a large mushroom and smoking from a pipe.
“Um, hello?” Amy calls up to him. “Can you help me? I’m afraid I’ve gotten myself lost.”
The singing man looks down at her, and Amy jumps when she realizes that his eyes are glowing blue. “Who are you?”
“I-I’m…” But Amy is so stunned that she cannot answer him.
“We’re you not listening, you dim-witted child? I said, who. Are. You?” The man asks, enunciating each word carefully as if Amy somehow did not hear his booming voice the first time.
“Well, I’m Amy Nelson. And just who are you?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.
The man, almost hidden through the blue smoke, glares down at her. “I am Google, and I guard this forest from stupid wanderers such as yourself who might get lost here.”
Amy glances around at the enormous flowers towering above her head. “A forest? It started out as a garden when I first got here… Tell me, Google, did the flowers get bigger? Or did I shrink?”
Google’s eyes flash. “Yes.”
Amy makes a face. “Well, that’s more than less than unhelpful.” She turns around and looks at the path she’s been following. After the young man’s mushroom, it breaks into several branching paths. “Google, which direction should I take if I want to find my way back home?”
His eyes flash again. “I’d suggest giving up now.”
“Oh! You’re completely useless!” Amy throws her hands in the air before placing them firmly on her hips and tapping her foot. “Fine. Just fine. I’ll find my own way, if that’s what it takes.”
“That’s what it takes,” Google tells her, monotone.
Amy gives Google one last glare over her shoulder before setting off down one of the pathways at random. Soon the garden turned forest becomes darker and darker until Amy can just barely see the path before her. It isn’t until she’s sure that she can’t take another step for fear of losing the path that she notices the glowing smile reflecting at her in the dark.
Amy gasps and takes a few steps away from the figure. “I-I seem to have lost my way. I’m trying to get home, you see, but the problem is, I have no idea how to get there.”
“Oh,” he steps closer, still evading Amy’s gaze as he says, “well, if you don’t know where you’re headed, then it really doesn’t matter which way you go!” Suddenly his face appears close to Amy’s, and she can see a face that looks much like Google’s, only his eyes aren’t glowing blue. They are framed by glasses. “Bim Trimmer, at your service, milady! How may I help you?”