A Bigger Shadow

A story very loosely based on Daniel Eight

By Bob Freye

“Would you care for more tea, dear?” The Rabbit extended a porcelain teapot in his furry paw and peered at the girl over his wire-rimmed glasses.

At the other end of the table, the Hatter sputtered something that Alice couldn’t quite hear, though she thought it had something to do with good manners. She tended not to listen when he talked, because he was always sputtering something about this or that. And he was always decidedly unpleasant.

“Don’t mumble,” the Rabbit scolded.

The Hatter fumed for a moment, then he climbed up onto the table and crawled across until his face was only a few inches from the Rabbit.

“She hasn’t finished what she has!” the Hatter protested.

Alice held her cup upside down. “I haven’t finished,” she said, “because I never had any.”

The Hatter turned toward Alice. “You had the same as the rest of us,” he snorted, “so don’t diddle-daddle.”

“That’s because you didn’t have any, either,” Alice replied.

“You proved my point,” the Hatter said firmly. “And you diddle-daddled.”

“He’s right, dear,” the rabbit assured her. “As fine a diddle-daddling as ever I’ve seen.”

“I don’t even know what that means!” Alice exclaimed. She set her cup down on the saucer and crossed her arms. “This is a terrible party!”

The Hatter held up a hand to get everyone’s attention. “It’s not a party,” he said, “at least, not exactly.”

Having made his announcement, the Hatter crawled slowly back to his chair.

If this isn’t a party, Alice thought, then what exactly was it? She was about to ask what it was, exactly, when the Rabbit shouted.

“My gracious!”

“What’s wrong?” Alice asked. “Are you hurt?”

“Worse,” the Rabbit moaned. “Much worse. I’ve just spilled tea all over my new suit!” 

“You didn’t have any tea,” Alice told him, “so you can’t have spilled. And there are no stains on your jacket.”

“Just because you don’t see something,” the Rabbit replied, peering over his glasses, “that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

He pointed to a dark spot. “Look!”

“That isn’t tea,” Alice said. “It’s just a shadow.”

“Maybe it’s the shadow of a tea stain,” the Rabbit muttered.

Hatter raised a hand again. Alice thought he looked very much like the queen, except for the wide-brimmed hat on his head. He deserved something more stately, Alice thought, something more in keeping with his high opinion of himself. But she hadn’t said anything, for fear of hurting his feelings.

“Quiet please,” the Hatter said. “It is about to begin.”

A shadow moved across the table, leaving a moment of melancholy behind, as shadows do. Alice looked around. The shadow was connected to a tired looking man dressed in shabby clothes. He walked slowly across the lawn and stood, slightly stooped, looking out across the grass.

There were several now, all shabbily dressed and stooped over. Peasants, from the look of them. They formed a line on one side of the lawn and another line opposite. And they glared at each other.

“What are they doing?” Alice asked.  

“They are pawns,” the Hatter sputtered, “so they are doing what pawns do.”  

Alice could see that the lawn was laid out in squares of dark green and light green grass. Each peasant had claimed a square.

“Oh, my dear!” Rabbit chuckled. “Are you saying that you’ve never seen a chess match?”

As if by a signal, the two lines of peasants suddenly lurched forward, hopping from square to square. As they met, they hunched down and growled at one another, moving from side to side like wrestlers in a match. But they did not step over onto the square of their opponent.

Then from one side of the lawn, a horse appeared with two riders. One held the reigns while the other rode behind, clutching the first rider’s waist. Alice thought that the two riders cast only one shadow across the grass.

A rug had been tossed over the horse’s back as a saddle, and the riders fought to hang on as the rug slid back and forth every time the horse moved. It appeared to Alice that the rug would soon slip off completely and send both riders tumbling to the ground.

The horse lunged forward across the grass, sending peasants scattering in every direction.

“Well, that doesn’t look fair!” Alice complained.

“It’s not,” the Rabbit said. “More tea?”

Before the horse could clear the board—or the lawn—another horse appeared. This had only one rider.

As it should be, Alice thought.

The rider was armed for combat, with clubs and spears hanging off every inch of the poor horse. The rider, however, was busy stuffing salad in his mouth, as if he had rushed off from home without time for his lunch. Bits and pieces of olives and  cheese flew everywhere as he ate. Finally, he cast the empty bowl aside and took up the reigns. 

His mount rushed at the first horse with one bound, clearing several rows of squares with a giant leap. The rider was nearly knocked from the saddle by the force of the wind in his face, but he regained control just in time to flail out with a spear. His blow struck the two riders, and they shattered, just like porcelain, sending a shower of tiny colored fragments in every direction.

The second horse and rider stood in the center of the lawn, surrounded by beaten and bloodied peasants. As the rider raised his hand in triumph, Alice heard a loud crackling sound, and the rider fell to the ground and split into four pieces.

“Well played,” said the Rabbit. “A fine game of chess.”

“Shouldn’t we help him?” Alice asked.

“No,” the Rabbit said, pouring himself another cup of imaginary tea.

“He always does that,” the Hatter added.

Alice couldn’t just sit and do nothing. She rushed across the lawn to the place where the rider had fallen.

“Be sure to pick up the pieces,” the Rabbit called after her.

But there were no pieces of the rider to be found. Instead, Alice found four babies lying on their backs in the grass, each wearing a diaper of romaine lettuce.

“What do I do?” she asked.

“I told you,” the Rabbit sighed. “Pick up the pieces!”

He must mean the babies, Alice thought. She couldn’t exactly hold all four at once, so she decided to pick them up one at a time. But when she lifted the first one and cradled him in her arms, he started to cry.

“Waaaaahhh!”

“Oh, dear,” she exclaimed.

“Don’t do that,” the Hatter sputtered.

“I’m not doing anything,” Alice said.

“Don’t coddle him,” the Rabbit warned. “He’s too old for that.”

Alice reminded the Rabbit that the baby was just, well, a baby. But when she looked down, she saw that the boy was dressed in armor, just like the rider had worn.

“They grow up so fast,” Rabbit said, wiping away a tear.

The boy jumped out of Alice’s arms and started kicking any of the peasants who were unlucky enough to be nearby. Then he jumped up onto the table and kicked the tea service. Cups and saucers flew everywhere. And all the while, the boy was crying.  

“Waaaaahhh!”

“Do something!” Alice said.  

“Like what?” the Rabbit asked.  

Alice suggested the first idea that came to her.

“Spank him!”

But the Rabbit and the Hatter just sat in their places, sipping tea from empty cups while the rest of the tea service bounced off the table and flew into the grass.

Alice stomped up to the table and set her hands on her hips. She drew herself up to her full height and looked very stern, as her mother had done on more than one occasion.

“Young man,” she began, but the Rabbit stopped her.

“Look,” he said, pointing behind her.

Alice turned and looked. Her shadow stretched out across the lawn, making her seem much taller than she actually was. But a bigger shadow sat right next to hers. It was the boy’s shadow. As she watched, it grew bigger and bigger.   

Alice found herself standing on tip-toe, to be as tall as possible. 

“It won’t work,” the Rabbit sighed. “You can’t stop a shadow by making a bigger shadow.”

“Oh dear!” Alice said.

Behind her, the shadow grew even larger. The lawn was becoming quite dark.

“More tea?” the Rabbit asked the Hatter.  

“I’d like twice as much as last time.” The Hatter held out his cup, and the boy kicked it out of his hand. But the Rabbit poured anyway, until the imaginary cup was quite full to overflowing with imaginary tea.  

“Don’t you see how dark it’s getting?” Alice asked.

“How silly.” The Hatter took a sip from his imaginary cup. “How can a person see how dark it’s getting? You need light for that.”

Of course, Alice thought. If you can’t stop a shadow by making a bigger shadow, then the answer must be …

“Waaaaahhh!” The little boy wailed as he kicked the Rabbit’s favorite platter into the hedge.

Alice picked up a metal shield that had fallen to the grass during the chess match. She held it up to catch the light.  

“You can’t fight a shadow by making a bigger shadow,” she repeated.

She swung the shield around, and the lawn became bright wherever the reflected light fell.   

“You fight a big shadow,” Alice said, “by making a little light.”
 

[-] © 2006