Not by Wardrobe, Tornado, or Looking Glass
The silhouette of a centaur beckoned towards the gathering crowd from within the rabbit hole. In a melodious voice, she called out, “Richard! Come quickly. Without your aid, the Inkies destroy everything that is beautiful and good in our world!”
A middle-aged man in a gray business suit laughed and ran forward, the crowd begrudgingly parting before him. “Never fear,” he shouted, stepped through the hole, and pulled the door shut behind him. The lighting in the station returned to normal. The smell of flowers was replaced with the usual smell of stale urine, newsprint, and body odor. A train rumbled in the distance, perhaps soon to arrive, or perhaps not.
Everyone has “rabbit hole,” a portal to their own special world where they are the most important person – the center of the story. These rabbit holes are opening more and more every day, and people who go down their rabbit holes almost never come back.
Everyone has a rabbit hole, except for Louisa, who wants one more than anything.