The Mad.

The road didn't stay a forest path for long. It changed gradually enough that I couldn't pinpoint when it happened.

The pale stone beneath my boots began to change, slowly resembling smooth river rocks. The color deepened until the path transformed into dark cobblestones.

The trees that had flanked my path slowly thinned out.

Then, tall buildings began to rise on either side of the road. They leaned heavily against one another.

They followed no specific architecture; each was unique. Their sizes defied logic, yet they possessed a strange stability that kept them from collapsing.

I realized that I had walked into a town.

There were figures moving about the streets. Each was an animal, yet they wore human clothes, walked upright, and mimicked human behavior. They were all going about their daily business.

To my left, a woman with the elongated neck and grey head of a heron purchased bread from a vendor who appeared to be a giant rat. She was dressed in a tailored blue dress and moved calmly.

To my right, three children were playing.

A mouse, a cat, and a lizard. They laughed as they played hopscotch. When I looked toward them, I struggled to process the sight.

Their faces were entirely devoid of three-dimensional features; they were flat, like drawings on a page.

They smiled and chatted while jumping over a chalk outline on the cobblestones, a jagged silhouette that looked unmistakably like a crumpled human body.

I kept moving forward, my eyes on the path. I felt as though every animal was watching me, their eyes never straying. I told myself it was only my imagination, that they weren't actually staring.

Instead, as I walked past them, they greeted me.

"Good morning, Alice," the heron woman said in a startlingly human voice. She gave a short bow before turning back to the rat selling bread.

"It's lovely weather, isn't it, Alice?" asked a lion man who was sweeping the street.

They all called me Alice. It was like being greeted by old neighbors who had known me for years.

I ignored them and continued walking until a storefront caught my eye.

It didn't have a sign. There were no letters painted on the glass or anything hanging on the door.

And it didn’t look special. It looked ordinary, which made it stand out among the bizarre buildings.

The oak door was pushed open just a bit, letting a silver light spill outside.

For some reason it piqued my interest, and so I stopped; the road continued onward, disappearing into wherever the end of town was.

I stepped up to the wooden frame and pushed open the door.

A small bell chimed above my head.

The silver light lit up the place, and I saw the shop clearly. Its interior was cluttered, yet somehow still clean.

The walls were lined with towering wooden shelves stacked high with teacups of every conceivable shape and color.

Between the shelves were clocks. Dozens of them. Grandfather clocks, mantel clocks, and pocket watches were nailed directly to the wooden wall.

None of them had hands. They possessed only the numbered faces. But they kept ticking every second in a chaotic overlapping rhythm.

Standing in the center of the room, beside a low wooden table, was a man.

He was the most human-feeling creature I had encountered since waking up in this world.

He was tall, remarkably thin, and dressed in a tailored black and white waistcoat. His face was that of an old man, whose age left nothing but grey eyes.

But as I looked at him, a creeping sense of unease began to replace my initial relief. The longer I stared, the more it felt wrong.

It was like looking at an illusion that didn't make any sense and changed its shape every second.

It was his hat.

It sat atop his messy grey hair, but its length refused to remain consistent. When I looked directly at it, it was ridiculously tall. It seemed like a regular top hat made out of dark silk, yet the moment I blinked or a millisecond passed, it shifted slightly.

Its height changed and warped.

He turned his head to look at me with a bright smile.

"Ah," he whispered.

His voice was entirely normal; it fit him perfectly. Just the voice of a man.

"You've arrived. Please sit."

He gestured with an elegant movement toward a blue armchair situated opposite the low table.

I didn't move immediately. I let my eyes sweep the room again, making sure this was safe.

I found nothing that indicated danger; I walked forward and took a seat. The chair was soft.

My eyes moved back to the hat and the tag pinned to it. I strained my concentration, trying to ignore the dull ache in my head.

"The Mad Hatter," it said.

He paused midway through pouring a cup of dark tea. He looked at the liquid, then slowly looked up to me. His smile softened with an expression of melancholy.

"Yes. That's what I am called," he said gently, returning his attention to the teapot. "But I'd like to say 'mad' is a bit rude, isn't it? I suppose it's the easiest to digest."

He slid the delicate teacup across the polished wood towards me.

"Drink," he offered. "It helps soothe the mind. Good for the blood and the nerves."

I looked at the tea. The steam rising from the surface smelled exactly as he had described, a soothing floral scent. I didn't touch the cup, choosing instead to rest my palms flat on my knees.

"You are surprisingly human," I noted, my tone flat.

The hatter chuckled while sitting opposite me. He took a sip from his own cup, closing his eyes for a moment.

"That is precisely why I am 'mad.' Wonderland strips a lot of things of their superficial colors, and I guess, under everything, I am just human." he said in a bright tone. "Yet, one can see it as the opposite. In a world of absolute wonders, being human is the ultimate grotesque thing possible. It is a very specific kind of torture, having a logical mind in this place."

I stared at him. I listened to the tone of his voice. He spoke with warmth. Which I honestly found a bit restful.

"My name is Naoki," I said.

The Hatter's eyes flinched for a second.

"Naoki. It's a nice name," he said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his fingers together.

The handless clocks kept ticking in an unnatural rhythm.

"Tell me, Naoki," the Hatter began. "Do you remember anything? Or rather, anyone from before?"

I looked down at the wooden table. I searched my mind.

Usually, some individuals that suffered from profound amnesia, may have was a lingering feeling of missing something, a sort of phantom pain that stayed in the mind, one they couldn't understand.

I thought of his question and walked through the endless walls of my own mind. I looked for that feeling, but as I expected, I didn't find it.

I found absolutely nothing.

The halls were empty and clean. So in a sense, I didn't feel lonely; I supposed I just felt like myself.

I raised my eyes to look at the hatter. "I don't think so," I answered, my voice calm.

The Hatter stared at me in silence. His expression of warmth and melancholy slowly evaporated. Then it turned into a look of deep, profound sorrow.

He nodded slowly, taking a sip of his tea.

"I feared so," he whispered.

After that, he didn't explain or elaborate on his fear.

He simply poured himself another cup of tea.

"The weather has been quite still today," the Hatter said, shifting the subject abruptly. "The Red Queen has been quiet. She's a whole deal you don't want to meet. Be careful on the road."

I accepted the topic change. I had no desire to press him on something that did not logically impact my immediate objective. And since I had arrived uninvited, I felt I should respect his attitude as the shop owner.

"Someone told me that the road will lead me to the White Rabbit," I said. "Is that true? And when I meet him, will I get my answer?"

"The End Road leads wherever the rabbit is running to," the Hatter replied, blowing softly on his tea. "But catching him is another matter entirely. He is tied to the underlying structure of this place. If you find him, you will find the center of the knot. And reaching the center means that there's no going back."

We sat in silence for a few more minutes. I didn't touch the tea he gave me, but I kept it in my hands for a bit of warmth.

My eyes drifted around the room, taking in the bizarre trinkets scattered throughout the shop. I saw an unassuming wooden shelf nailed to the wall near the exit. It was arranged neatly.

On it were three items.

The first was a cheap yellow plastic button. Second, a plastic butterfly hair clip. Third, a small, neatly folded piece of lined notebook paper, stained with something dark that looked like dried blood.

Of course, other than the last item, they looked completely mundane and normal, comparable to the other things in here.

Eventually, I stood up.

"Thank you for the hospitality, but I have to go now," I said.

"Be safe on the road," he replied, standing up and walking past me to the door.

He opened the door and gestured for my departure.

The bell chimed the same note one last time, and I stepped out into the street of the town. I walked a few paces down, getting used to the red sky once more.

I adjusted my posture and stretched my hands a bit, freeing them from sitting too long, and continued walking down the road.