Looking Glass Wars; Prologue

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Description

This is the prologue for the book series, The Looking Glass Wars; Written by Frank Beddor. The rest of the book would be read in a similar fashion, if it becomes an audiobook.

Vocal Characteristics

Language

English

Voice Age

Teen (13-17)

Accents

British (General) North American (General)

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
the Looking Glass Wars by Frank Adore Prologue OXFORD, England, July 18 63 Everyone thought she had made it up, and she had tolerated more taunting and teasing from other Children, more lectures and punishments from grown ups than any 11 year old should have to bear. But now, after four years, it had arrived her last best chance to prove them all that she had been telling the truth. Ah, college scholar had thought enough of her history to write it up as a book. She sat on a blanket on the banks of the river chair, well, the remains of a picnic lunch in a basket at the Reverend Charles Dodgson elbow. She held the book in her hands. He had written it and illustrated himself. He said It had a nice weight, and heft felt substantial. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied with black ribbons. Dodgson was watching her anxious. Her sister's Edith and Llerena were hunting minnows at the river's edge. She untied the ribbon carefully under the wrapping. Oh, Alice's adventures underground. What sort of title was that? And why was her name misspelled? She had told Dodgson had to correctly spelled her name had even written out for him by Lewis Carroll. She's ahead with growing concern. I thought it to be more festive than saying it was by a reverend festive. She had told him little that was festive. Concern was fast turning into alarm, but she swallowed it. What mattered was that he had faithfully recorded her history in Wonderland. As she remembered it, she opened the book and admired its rough cut pages, the neatness of the handwriting. But the dedication took the form of a poem in which again her name was misspelled. And she didn't think the lighthearted rhyme scheme appropriate, considering the material it was supposed to introduce. Her gaze caught on one of the stances. The dream child moving through a land of wonders, wild and new in friendly chat with bird or beast and half believed it. True Dream child. And what did he mean by half believed? She turned to the first chapter and immediately felt as if her insides had been scooped out like the half grapefruits. Dean Liddell ate for breakfast every morning, after which Onley raw, pulpy Hollows remained down a rabbit hole. Where had the worrisome white rabbit come from Alice. Is something wrong? She skipped ahead, turned page after page. The pool of tears, the caterpillar, her on to read It had all been twisted into nonsense. I admit that I took a few liberties with your story, dodged and explained to make it ours, as I said I would. Do you recognize that to two fellow you once described to me? He's the white Rabbit character. I got the idea for him upon discovering that the letters of the tutor's name could be spelled to make White rabbit. Here, let me show you. Dodgson took a pencil and small notebook from inside his pocket of his coat, but she didn't want to look. He had indeed said it would be their book, his and hers, and she had found a strength and that strength to suffer the indignities that came from insisting on truths that no one else believed. But what she held in her hands had nothing to do with her human. You did it on purpose. The grinning Cheshire cat, the mad a tea party. He transformed her memories of a world alive with hope and possibility and danger into make believe the foolish stuff of Children. He was just another in a long line of unbelievers. And this this stupid, nonsensical book was how he made fun of her. She had never felt more betrayed in her life. No one's ever going to believe me now. She screamed. You've ruined everything. You're the cruelest man I've ever met, Mr Dodgson. And if you had believed a single word, I had told you you to know how very cruel that is. I never want to see you again. Never, never, never. She ran leaving Edith an arena to make their own way home, leaving the Reverend Dodgson who considered Children to be spirits fresh from God's hands, their smiles divine. And who thought there could be no greater endeavor than devoting all of his powers to a task for which the only reward was a child's whispered thanks and the area touch for pure lips, Shaken, unsure of what had just happened, he picked up the book. Still warm from Alice Liddell is touch not knowing that this was as close to her as he'd ever be again.