With the mighty grip of Hercules, but with a demon inside, this blade punctures her palm. In fear and loathing, two beady eyes watch crimson glide and drip. That beautiful name, engraved on this weapon, is now stained with evil. The voices that cause hesitation and timidly ask "Why?" are immediately evicted. She tells herself that turning back now would only show weakness. The only option is to move forward, slowly. This time is not for those who are strong. This time is for those who are hungry.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

Through the looking glass, everything is not as it seems. Beyond a vast and twisting tunnel of menacing chaos, Wonderland is alive.

Before the reflective doorway collapsed, encasing his body and mind with all that lays behind the mirror, Harold Covington was an ordinary Englishman. He made a living by constructing fine, and unique hats for all of the townspeople.

Harold was quite an average fellow, that is, until one day his eyes and his mind started playing tricks on him. Or so he thought. Unknown to him, everything he saw in this day were not accidents. These events, as we shall refer to them, were callings from the doorway to Wonderland.

Early, one lazy, Sunday afternoon Harold left his small hat shop to enjoy a seemingly pleasant and harmless lunch under his favorite tree by the creek. Wait; let us start from the moment he woke up.

He had a dream that night, a mysterious and intriguing dream at that. There was a doorway the size of his eye and through that doorway lay a world of wonder. He saw two ball shaped twin boys, a caterpillar enjoying life a little too much, an evil queen and her army constructed of playing cards, he saw a little white rabbit with an overcoat and a pocket watch, and in the sky there was a cat. Harold woke up thinking to himself “I shall not have warm milk before bed any longer.” Heading down to the kitchen he noticed that the table, which on any other day would have held his house keys and his top hat, a small glass bottle with an elegant tag reading “Drink Me.” Being spooked by the thought of someone breaking in to trick him, he threw the bottle into the street. On his way back to the kitchen, he passed by that table once again. It was empty except for his house keys and his top hat. Back to a normal Sunday morning and time for breakfast. While boiling his water for tea and buttering a bread roll, he began to hum a tune. A tune in which he had never heard, with words suddenly rolling off his tongue against his will.

“How doth the little crocodile

Improve his shining tail,

And pour the waters of the Nile

On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin,

How neatly spreads his claws,

And welcomes little fishes in

With gently smiling jaws!”

When the words stopped, so did he. Shaking his head, he decided to ignore it. Sipping his tea he begins to speak to himself, “This is not right, not right at all. Sunday is a peaceful day. What could be bothering me so? This is strange, so, so strange…” Still muttering, Harold gets up to retrieve some jam for his almost stale breakfast. Returning to the table, his roll has disappeared. In its place there is a small pastry that read “Eat Me.” Of course, being the cautious man that he was, he threw it out to the same place as the bottle. Oddly the bottle was gone. Assuming it was kicked unknowingly by a passerby he continued preparing for his day. Combing his hair, dressing in his white dress shirt, then his plum vest, olive knickers, his golden yellow overcoat, a nice blue bowtie, his brand new pocket watch then finally his olive top hat with the plum sash. I said he was unique, didn’t I?

Feeling a sudden sense of happiness, he continued to skip out his front door. As he turned around to secure his old lock, he noticed a raven perched on a writing desk, through the open window of his neighbor’s house. Noticing this, another rant comes to mind, in the form of a riddle this time.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

Speaking to himself in a loud tone he replied to his thought “Ha ha, why I do not know at all why a raven is like a writing desk! What a silly question. Oh my, how ridiculous!” Harold Covington proceeded to skip merrily on his entire route to work.

Upon arrival a somewhat purple cat leaped in front of Harold, forcing him to look at the sky. The clouds were so odd in that beautiful deep blue sky. They look like eyes, and if I’m not mistaken, there were eleven smaller clouds forming the shape of a knowing smile.

By this time he was somewhat getting used to all of these strange events. His first customer of the day was wealthy man by the name of… well… he never gave his name. He was quite a fat man to be blunt, bald with a very long mustache; he was dressed in dark blue and gray. All Harold could think was “This man looks like a Walrus.” But he bought a very nice felt hat, costing ten schillings and six pence, quite a sale for the first of the day. While the Walrus man was paying for his hat, two very spherical boys in yellow and red striped shirts ran passed the door. They appeared to be very familiar to Harold but he couldn’t quite place where he had seen them. To settle the deal, Harold and the Walrus man exchanged pleasantries and a hand shake.  Before turning to walk away, the man mentioned he knows a nice fellow, a carpenter, he could get a good deal for new shelving to place the hats. His breath reeked of oysters, finally noticing this Harold pretends to sneeze to escape the stench. With that, the man left.  From then on, his day seemed to be a normal one. At noon, the aroma from surrounding restaurants and bakeries were too much for him. “I think I’ll take my lunch a little early today” he said to himself.

 So, early, this strange, Sunday afternoon Harold left his small shop to enjoy a seemingly pleasant and harmless lunch under his favorite tree by the creek. He lay down in the grass, turning his head he came eye to eye with a blue and green caterpillar relaxing on a mushroom. This gave Harold a reason to chuckle a bit. The laughter stopped when a small white rabbit pounced on him and stole his pocket watch! He had worked too hard for too long to just let that watch escape him because of a ridiculous white rabbit. He chased the rabbit to a large old tree, and without thinking he took one step forward…

Down the rabbit hole he fell. And the rest, is history… Or is it?

I learned a valuable life lesson just following my sixteenth birthday. During the month of February in the year 2009, I was taken to Abbot Hospital in Minneapolis, MN. I didn’t fall off of my bike and I didn’t need stitches. I was put in the psychiatric ward of the hospital to help rid me of my depression. As I was being pushed in the cold, squeaky wheel chair, I didn’t know where to look or who to look at, but as soon as I saw the unwelcoming sign to the ward I tried not to burst out in tears. I by no means sought after to be one of those people. Sometimes you can fall into situations that can make you ashamed of yourself and everything you have done. The only way to be redeemed is to have faith and accept the help that you never wanted. I had to complete the most difficult challenge of my entire existence. I had to admit that I was wrong.

The summer after that dreadful experience, I partook in summer school to make up for my failing grade in Geometry. I woke up early, did my homework, and received the credit I needed to move on to Algebra II. It was easier said than done, but with some help I powered through it.

The beginning of my junior year was exciting and nerve wrecking. I hoped with all of my heart that I wouldn’t plummet like I had the previous year. I started asking for help when I didn’t understand things. I stayed after school and went in early when I needed to. I was on my way to becoming the student and person I had always wanted to be. For the first time, I felt successful and accomplished. Those feelings seemed so new to me. I hadn’t been this way in years.

Marketing was my favorite class and it made my junior year worthwhile. My incredible teacher, Mr. Keith Jurek, helped me through my struggles and even helped motivate me into becoming an Orono DECA Dog. I still can’t thank him enough for that, because at the District Conference award ceremony, I was shaking the entire room with my tension. The shaking didn’t stop when I was called to the stage and received my third place trophy, my prize, and my ticket to the state conference. I was in shock, for only a few weeks prior, I had considered dropping out of the conference. I didn’t think I was good enough. I proved that I had mistaken myself.

Although I didn’t make it past the state conference for DECA and although my grades weren’t exactly top notch at the end of the year, I finally began to believe in myself. My grades slowly began to improve and I expect that they will continue on the upward slope. I smile more now and I trust that I can do anything I desire to. This is what I have waited for, for so long. This is the confidence that will get me as far as I can dream.