Alice's Bad Hare Day (a dark humour tale) Alice returned home from college and headed outdoors for a walk in her parent's hundred-acre woods. She spotted and chased her old friend, the white rabbit, into a large rabbit hole. Only this time, she lost her way, falling, falling, bouncing off the roots and side walls, bruising and banging all the way down. Until she landed with a plop in a glade where she hit her head, knocking herself unconscious. Fortunately, it was not a permanent death sentence, just a participial phrase in a lost equation between her ears. With her head still splitting and spinning in all directions and her eyes trying to cooperate, but each one spinning in different directions, she spied being surrounded by what appeared to be short hooded bunnies covered in bedsheets. "I say what, or whomever do we have here dropping into our ultra-secret meeting today?" said the tallest of the short-hooded-hopping figures. Alice, still dizzy in her bluebell-flowered dress, sat there on her rump atop a patch of soft cushioning moss, did not answer this hooded rabbit, hare, bunny, or possibly hedgehog, or whatever it was under the bedsheet with the cutout holes for eyes. "Alice," she finally said, still having a splitting headache and not sure of what was going on. With that said, the sheeted figures all hopped forward to get a closer look at her. "You do look familiar. Do you realise it is a death sentence for doing so?" They all sang in unison, as they sang the question macabrely melodic. Squinting through one eye, both eyes cooperating somewhat with one another. "No, I did not know that. With that being the case, Mister hooded rabbits, hare, or whatever you are, go off somewhere with each other and leave me alone. At the moment, I'm still too dizzy with a splitting headache. Now, be off with all of you." The hooded rabbit figures stood stunned, being dumb bunnies with bad English comprehension. They misunderstood every word she said. All thinking, she said, "Go off yourselves! Split your heads!" Every hare pulled a Wakizashi Sword from under their robes, and proceeded to slash, cut and split each other up, far worse than the most violent, bloodiest Kill Bill movie scene in existence. As their blood splattered her face, she screamed, and raised her arms to block the site of such violent things her eyes should never see. All the king's horses and all the king's men showed up at the very end of the bloodbath brawl. There stood Alice, covered in blood, alone with bunny heads and decapitated furry bodies, limbs, and paws covering the glade. Still confused, Alice joined all the king's men who carried the decapitated hare bodies away to braze for the king's feast later that day. The End

The man in the front took off his hood, and I stared into my own eyes. I was – he was young. He had a smile that seemed out of place. Smug bastard still had all his hair. The crowd behind him - dozens of men in robes and masks - watched us. “It’s a bit much at first,” the man said. “But you get used to it.” I stood. The others behind him started to take off their hoods. Our hoods. They were all me. All younger, by a lot or a little. Different attitudes, but me, and they looked at me with pity and fascination. “The hell is this?” I growled. “Well,” the first me said. “Every time you make a choice….” There was some chuckling from the group and he laughed with them. “Sorry. Not you anymore.” He looked back at everyone else and they nodded. “Every time he makes a choice, there’s a future that simply doesn’t happen.” One of me spoke up. He looked like I did back in college. “Remember when you weren’t sure if you should major in English or Business?” He shrugged. “Whoops.” Another laughed too loudly. “And that car you bought after Vivienne left was going to be either the SUV or the sports car, right? You picked the SUV.” “That version of you,” the first me said, “Ends up here. With us.” The crowd murmured. A boy of about eleven wove his way out of the group. His hood was off. He looked up at me with old, unreadable eyes in an innocent face. I fell to my knees before him. I knew his choice instantly. That’s when I got Chauncy. Who ended up under the wheels of a truck two months later because I…. “We’re here,” the boy said, not unkindly, “because nothing ever goes away. The universe won’t let it.” The crowd milled, shuffled their feet. Uncomfortable. I felt my stomach knot up. “Are we…” I wasn’t sure how to ask. The question felt too big, even in this endless wood. “Are we the failures?” I whispered. “I turned down a trip next week. With my brother. He was gonna go to Hawaii, and I said I had too much work to do.” A noise like a chuckle came up through the knot in my throat. “Stupid, right? What am I gonna remember in thirty years? A trip to Hawaii with family or more spreadsheets? The youngest me put a small hand on my shoulder. “No,” he said. He looked sad in a way I couldn’t understand. “We’re not failures. We’re the better choices.” The crowd behind him seemed too big. Too many choices between him and me. Good choices that were never made. That sent me - us - down the wrong paths. The first me cleared his throat behind me. He held out robes and a mask for me. “The costumes were the boy’s idea,” he said. “Here you go. Next one should be here in a moment.”

The celebration was all but a blur. A victory for our species, as slow and steady won the race, and to celebrate, we all figuratively drank until the well ran dry. My family and friends all laughed, cried, and cheered, for there was nothing that could beat us. Or so I thought. I had woken up in complete darkness, bound in the air by my arms; the hangover was the least of my pains. There was silence; the aftermath of rain left leaves dripping with water. I didn't dare to speak, for who was out there might be waiting. I was helpless; all I could think of was my family and my friends. In front of me, further down from what I could see, a small fire flickered to life. One became many, for each lit to life and grew bigger as the row of fire came closer. My heart beat through my chest with each collection of twigs snapping and leaves crunching grew louder. I was out of my shell. They lined up in front of me. A dozen, dressed in robes, had their faces covered by cloth masks. Slits were cut up top so their ears protruded, sticking above to reveal who they were. Hares. "Why are you doing this?" I demanded. But only the crackling of the fires and night crawlers around answered. They all stared at me—hungry, like I was the berries they would feast on. No response was needed; the hares lit the bonfire behind them. My surroundings suddenly lit up from the fire, and I could only beg for the darkness again. My family, friends, all hung lifelessly above me. Blood dripping onto the ground, still fresh from their deaths. Mom and Dad must've been first, for they had none to offer the soils of the land. One speaks out, giving orders to those around them. "Lower him," and for a moment, I wondered if my legs would even have the strength to keep me up, but I didn't touch the ground. The one who gave the order walked closer to me, and I knew already it was him. "You should've just let me win; this would've all been easier," he spat out at me. The fire next to him wasn't strong enough to warm the cold, dead look in his eyes. "Now, we hares will restore order as the fastest in the lands." Before I could say anything else, call him crazy, for it was just a race, he revealed a knife under his cloak, and with one motion, sliced me across my throat. My chest felt the warmth of my blood moments after. "Take him back to his family." I ascended. Higher than before, I passed my brothers, my friends, until I stopped by my mother and father. The hares chanting in choirs was the last thing I would hear. Slow and steady, until it all went black.