Hard Night at Rutledge Asylum

Rutledge Insane Asylum harbored 12 patients who believed the walls could speak to them, 4 patients who were aliens from the distant future, 22 patients who could fly, 3 patients who enjoyed the day by banging their heads against the wall, and many other assortments of "oddballs" and "kooks".

Among the halls of the latter mentioned, a young girl with a melancholy disposition and burnt skin lay in her bed one night and drove deeper into her insanity. She had been knocked out of her current quest in Wonderland by the rising storm, and was now pathetically sprawled on her bed, sweating, and desperately trying to get back to her adventures.

There was darkness. No one else was awake. The only sound came from that infernal clock tower in the distance. The incessant TICK TOCK of the brooding structure had sent Alice many a night into hysterics. It was bad enough to be insane. It was worse to be insane and then driven crazy. Suddenly the night was going to last an eternity.

TICK TOCK. Pause. TICK TOCK. Pause. TICK-her thoughts were on the Mad Hatter's pocketwatch. It never told you the time, she mused. They dipped their watches in the tea. It never told you the time. Never the sound of ticktockticktockticktock-tikkity-tokkity-ticky-tock-ticktockticktock.
A soft thud stirred her. Her eyes darted towards the noise. Her room was darkness save one stream of light shining through her high, barred window. The rain had yet to set in. She sat up and squinted to see better. Nothing. "Is anyone there?" She wasn't afraid, but insanely curious. "Hello? Nurse? Dear Doctor?" Nothing.

At last her head found the pillow, and her eyes were closing fast. A large clatter echoed through the room. There was no mistaking the presence of another being. Alice shot up in bed, and her hands took hold of her rabbit doll, its bead eye dangling loosely from its socket.
"Who is there?" Scampering. All around her room. First near her left wall, next at the right, always in the middle. Someone was running around her room, in the dark shadows where she could not see. Feet were going to and fro. Alice could hear whatever it was pattering against the concrete floor. "Mr. Rabbit?" She was almost certain he was there. "Why are you here, Mr. Rabbit? In my room at this time of night, it's absurd-" The soft thuds stopped.
Alice peered near the right wall, where the noise was last heard. She smiled softly. "You must have come in here to escape the storm. You are welcome, of course, only stop making such a fuss. You need'nt try and hide from me!" Alice swung her legs over the bed and hoped down. The floor was like ice and Alice winced a little at the sudden stab of cold. The creature lurking in the shadows still hadn't made a sound. "Mr. Rabbit?" Alice took a step forward. A crisp voice cut through the air, and stopped her.

"Not one step closer, Alice. Not one."

There was no mistaking that voice. Her heart stopped for the briefest of moments, and suddenly her insides were icier than the floor.
This was no White Rabbit.

Taking care not to reveal himself entirely, the figured reached a gloved hand, faint in the shadows, but near enough to be seen, and touched the outline of the hat on his head. The hat was near his side. Alice could barely make out its checkerboard design. The other glove dove inside something-a pocket, maybe, and produced a large golden watch. It gleamed under the faint moonlight.
After a few moments the watch went back into its mysterious carrier.

"What ever are you doing out of your bed so late? A young lady who romps around her icy room during the night can catch a rather nasty cold."

That deadly voice rang through her ears. An odd thought struck Alice. His voice. It used to be more...raspy. His words were...but now... Shivers. She was shivering. In this room, where no other being was there to protect her, stood the Mad Hatter, luxurious and as large as life.

She scoffed at his obvious joke about her health. Why should he care if she catch cold? He meant to kill her. And here there was nothing to stop him, no weapons, no Cheshire Cat. And there was nowhere to hide. She could sense him smiling at her.
An unexpected gesture found the hat on the floor. He had thrown his hat-one of very few of his prized possessions-to the hard ground. Did he know this floor had seen the blood, drool and bowel movements of countless other patients? Among other things, this floor had been doused in chlorophorm, and vomited on by the terminal, the contageous? What place had his velvet hat on this ground?
"How careless," she remarked, raising an eyebrow at darkness.
"What means this absurdity?"

"Does absurdity ever need a reason, my dear?"

"Why are you here, Hatter?"

"Why are you, dear Alice." A sigh from Alice.

"This conversation is growing quite tedious, and I've a big day ahead of
me-"

"Conversing with the lunatics, and raving about an imagenary Wonderland is tiresome, I'm sure."

"-and if you aren't going to answer my questions properly, I see no reason why this interlude should continue."
He took a step forward. The outline of his figure appeared, but nothing more. Alice still couldn't see him.
"One step closer and I'll scream, Hatter. You wouldn't want that. I'd wake the entire hosital. There'd be nurses here in no time-and doctors with big needles full of sleeping liquids."

They both knew it was a lie.

"If you should scream," he sighed, "no one would come. Have you forgotten, my dearest Alice, that you are in Rutledge? Nurses do not answer to screaming lunatics in the night. They allow them to wail to their hearts content, and pray their lungs collapse within a hour or two."

His cane shot out and touched the ground. He was preparing to step into the light.
Her head cocked to the side, and she mused on his cane. A cream-colored wood created the staff, with chocolate swirls twisting about it. The finishing ornament was a ceramic teapot, presumably brimming with the precious drink. Alice could almost see the steam still rising from the spout. The teapot itself was green and bulbous. It hardly belonged on such a slim staff, but a sense of right and wrong was no matter to the Hatter. She also saw his hand, gloved in white, tightly gripping the wood. Rain set in. Light drops beat against the roof, a sort of soft soundtrack to their meeting. Alice turned her attention to the hat on the floor. It was a few steps away. With one look back at the cane she stepped aside and picked the hat off of the floor. She turned to set it on her bed, thought better, and turned back to the Hatter.

"Don't you want this?"

"I plan on retrieving it...later."

Alice smirked.
"You won't get it back without a fight...but...if you promise to leave immediately, I'll give it to you freely."

"I don't want the hat, Alice."

She turned to the bed. There was that old tattered label pinned to the checkerboard. "In this style, 10/6." She chuckled. "Hatters have quite the reputation for being mad, you know," with her back still turned to him, "they say the dye in the material uses iodine and other sorts like that. During the seasons, the dye seeps out of the hat, and into whatever, or whomever is there to catch it. And because hatters wear their own supplies for such a long time with low sales, the dye seeps into their brains, and the iodine reacts. They become blabbering idiots. They all end up running through the streets naked, propostioning chickens, and eating dirt. The ones that are caught end up-"

"In a place...much like this." Alice turned to his voice.

He was no longer in the darkness.