A Writing Escape

*idea gets more complicated*

*idea gets more complicated*

*idea gets more complicated*

*idea gets more complicated*

“What?” said Alice, turning her head to it but keeping her eyes on the table. The billiard balls rolled back and forth across the baize with the swaying of the ship. It was the Baker’s turn and he was running up and down the length of the table.

“It’s extremely important that you understand the difference between leopards and panthers,” the Cat said. “A leopard can’t change its spots, but the panther - are you listening?”

“Hm? Oh, there you go, Candle-Ends, well done.” She turned to the Cat, blinking. “Sorry, yes, leopards and panthers. Aren’t panthers just leopards with melanism?”

The Cat sighed. “Not at all. Just because something is another thing doesn’t mean they’re the same.”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me there.”

“A leopard can’t change its spots, but the panther is one big spot. And if you can’t tell the difference, that’s going to get you into trouble.”

Alice was reminded of a distant poem. She found herself quietly reciting it. “I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye, how the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie.”

The Cat hummed. It might’ve been a purr. It was so hard to tell with it. “And you know how that poem ends.”

Alice frowned. She noticed that the Baker and the Beaver were looking at her expectantly.

She waited until the cue ball was rolling by her and then waved a hand. “Excuse me,” she said. “Would you mind holding still one moment, please?”

The cue ball shuddered to a halt. Alice heard the Baker moan in agony, ignored it, and took her shot. There was a crack of celluloid on celluloid, and the green ball plopped into a pocket.

The Cat’s eyes narrowed. “How do you do that?”

“You just have to be polite,” Alice said, shrugging. She started to walk to the other side of the table, where the cue ball had once again frozen. The Cat followed her, walking along the rail of the table. “Why the sudden interest in panthers?”

The Cat thought about this. “They’re like,” it swung a paw through the air, trying to snag the invisible thread of its thoughts, “snarks.”

Alice snorted. “Like what?”

“Snarks,” the Cat said, more certainly this time. “Adorable things, handy for striking a light. Only once in a while, what you think is a snark is actually a boojum, and then-”

There was a crash. This was from the Baker, who had suddenly keeled over and fallen face-first into the cue rack.

The Cat gave him a look of pity. “Damn. I forgot about his predilections.”

Alice opened her mouth to ask, and then there was a noise, high and horrible, and only cut by a sudden and wet-sounding thud.

Alice looked. There was a dead eaglet on the table.

The billiard balls exploded with coloured sparks and the smell of burning celluloid. Alice raised her arm up to shield her face, and then she was running across the baize of the billiard table (baize? Or was it grass?), and the 8-ball rolled after her, huge and dark and howling, and it was closing the distance, threatening to crush her, and she couldn’t move fast enough to get away.

The Cat’s voice cut through the noise, high and laughing. “Panthers and leopards, Alice!” it called out. “If you remember nothing else, remember this! Remember how the poem ends, Alice! Alice! Alice!”

In the great tradition of nightmares, the voice of the Cat turned into the voice of Edith, who was shaking her by her shoulders.

“I don’t know how it ends!” Alice yelled. She blinked, and suddenly the dream had evaporated entirely. “What?”

***

Edith refused to let the subject drop by noon. “I told you, I don’t remember what the dream was about,” Alice growled. “Something about panthers and poetry.”

Edith looked very keen. “Really? What sort of poetry?”

Alice closed her eyes. “Something about panthers and owls - when the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon, was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: while the Panther received knife and fork with a growl, and concluded the banquet…”

Her voice trailed off. “And concluded the banquet,” she tried again. She blew air out of her cheeks with a rude noise.

Edith mulled the couplet over. “Watts?”

“Something like that,” Alice sighed. “I told you I never remember what these dreams are about.” She looked out the window and frowned. “Who’s the woman that father is showing around campus?”

Edith followed Alice’s gaze through the window. “Carmilla von Karnstein,” she said. “She just arrived from the continent last week.”

There was a tone behind the words “the continent.” Edith had many elaborate fantasies about “the continent,” typically of the bodice-ripping sort. Alice was about to comment on this point when Carmilla von Karnstein looked up.

She was wearing dark glasses. Ina would later comment that this probably meant she was syphilitic, so stop bothering the woman, but Alice wouldn’t be paying attention.

Because despite the dark glasses, despite the distance, despite the fact that there was just no way she could’ve heard Edith, Carmilla von Karnstein looked directly at Alice.

She smiled.

There were panther teeth in that smile.

Fun things. Fun things are in the writer's kit tier (which will only be available via the Kickstarter!)

You get a set of Novel Navigation Notecards to help plot your novels, obviously, but you also get fun things like these:

A doorhanger to keep everyone out of your writing space while you work.

An editor duck for you to explain your problems to until they stop being problems.

A maze fidget pen with a tiny marble inside for you to roll through maze as you think things through. (I got one of these at a conference YEARS ago and it is my favorite thing ever. I actually replaced the ink well inside when it ran out so I could keep playing with it.)

A spinner keychain to help you break through writer's block.

And more!