I stare into the vast expanse of blue that lay ahead of me as I stand by the pier surmising whether the Venus Flytrap (Dionaea Muscipula to those who take pride in their vast repository of knowledge) has a conscience or am I the only creation endowed with this curse. Last night he paid me a visit, the one they call the flying spaghetti monster. I broke into a cold sweat as he advanced menacingly I wondered who I was going to be today, the hunter or the hunted. But all it took was a fleeting moment of unfathomable courage and it was all over. In one clean strike my fork decapitated him and now he rests in the calm of my belly, undisturbed. Failing to contain the joy of victory I let out a cry synonymous with conquerors and war junkies. This feeling quickly dissipated only to be replaced by overwhelming guilt and a bout of claustrophobic depression. But now, here I am standing by the pier wondering whether I was guilty of murder. I thank my rotund, bald friends Mitrazapine and Trazodone who brought me to this pier far away from the crime scene. I like it here, far from the madding crowd.
My name is Rila. But, for some strange reason everybody calls me Alice. My voice has gone hoarse trying to clear this case of mistaken identity but no one seems to care. I’m not Alice. I haven’t been down the rabbit hole and more importantly we are not in wonderland!! When Lewis Liddell a wealthy factory owner riding the wave of the industrialization received a anxious phone call one cold winter evening little did he know that his life was about to embark upon a journey of parenthood. Edith Liddell his soft-spoken was overjoyed to see her hazel eyed 'bundle of joy'. On my first birthday my parents threw a grand bash inviting the entire town, the tables shimmered with silverware, the house had come alive with the streamers and confetti and would you believe it there were acrobats from the Royal Gemini Circus entertaining the guests. The years waltzed past and my father's little princess blossomed into a young woman, confident yet unassuming, shy but flushed with good spirit. I was tutored by the best educators in the whole of Europe. I had already been halfway round the world, from the snow clad Alps to the gondolas of Venice, from the bullfights of Spain to the Bushkazi of Afghanistan; I had seen it all along with my loving parents. The only missing ingredient to my fairytale was my prince charming and soon enough he came along too.
Lt Charles Dodgsen, a pilot with the RAF who had been the object of affection of many a maiden. It was at a charity ball that our eyes met, his gaze lingered, we struck a conversation and before the French could spell lieutenant he was on his knees with a proposition that good reason cannot reject. We tied the knot that summer, a quiet ceremony attended by our near and dear ones. My world finally seemed complete but little did I know that it was about to fall apart like a pack of cards.
The day was etched in my memory, Charles standing by the pier with his bags packed, wearing his olive green beret .The stars on his lapel shimmering in the evening light as he promised he would return. He spoke of war and nations, allies and foes, death and victory, martyrdom and pride. I listened supinely as I was helpless. I wanted him to stay here with me far away from the vile Howitzers spitting shells, far away from the dogged dog fights that dot the free skies. I cringe at the thought of crimson spattered over that uniform of his. I close my eyes take a deep breath regain my composure and manage to sneak out a smile as I stammered overcome by the pathos in his words
“I will wait for you, come back safe and come back victorious." And then he was gone. It has been two years since that day, and here I am waiting by the pier for him to return.
As I stood here looking into the distant horizon for that little silhouette against the setting sun, I felt a cold hand tap my shoulder and I closed my eyes and turn around, hoping fervently that I will open them to see Charles standing there.
"Alice Caroll, its time dear, you have to take your medication and go to bed" said Nurse Betty.
"My name is Rila!!" I retorted.
"Oh! Now Rila is it, why just the week before you were the Princess of Monaco. Now take your medication and I don’t want to hear another word of your gibberish" said a glowering Nurse Betty.
Nurse Betty disappeared for a few minutes only to return nodding her head in resentment.
"Alice, look what I found under your pillow, The Rila Liddell Story: The Labor of Love. How did u get your hands on this trashy romance??" demanded Nurse Betty.
"All the girls in the ward have been complaining about you and this Rila Liddell. And look at your room you have vandalized it ,and who is this Charles Dodgsen whose name you have scribbled on all the walls .I will have to report this to the warden and there will some serious consequences young lady". Nurse Betty had turned red with rage.
"My name is Rila and Lt Charles Dodgsen is my husband!!!!!!!!!!!!” I bellowed. I broke down and collapsed onto the floor in a heap.
"I’m not lying Nurse Betty, Charles said he would come, I have to wait here by the pier, Please let me stay” I pleaded.
"Oh you poor thing, here take your medication. Charles Dog whoever sent word that if you take this dose of Mitrazapine and Trazodone and go to bed he would come tomorrow".
"It’s Lt Charles Dodgsen” I snapped before I quickly swallowed the pills.
Nurse Betty held me in her arms comforting me while my attention shifted to an observation chart that she put aside. It was about this girl Alice, they say she was really sick and needed rest, it read....
NAME: ALICE CAROLL
AGE: 25
DIAGNOSIS: Pseudologia Fantastica, a pathological liar.
OBSERVATIONS: The patient fabricates elaborate stories that are not entirely improbable and are long lasting. These stories are told for internal psychological reasons rather than external gain. The patient often experiences severe bouts of depression upon narrating the tale.
PRESCRIBED MEDICATION: Mitrazapine and Trazodone
Nurse Betty tucked me in bed, planted a gentle peck on my cheek and forehead and sighed
'Good Night Dear, Alice you are the only one in wonderland...."
(This short story is inspired by the character of Georgina from the movie Girl Interrupted.)
