Past: Mushroom Garden, Wonderland
I f anyone in Wonderland hadn’t been touched by darkness then it was the Mad Hatter.
He seemed not to care about politics, turmoil, and conflict. In a pink-shrouded world of optimism, he lived. Late twenties and single, he hadn’t even cared about love or companionship. All he wanted was to drink his tea in peace.
Five o’clock tea every day.
Cinnamon flavored, peppermint flavored, and sometimes nonsense flavored - courtesy of his mentor Lewis Carroll.
The Hatter loved Lewis. He loved how quirky and lonely he was. So was the Hatter. But those traits of introversion hadn’t been frowned upon in society yet. An introvert was someone who left people alone and actually possessed a quality few people had: enjoying time with theirselves.
Introverts like Lewis and the Hatter didn’t need external validation, neither clothes or money or belongings to fit in. They didn’t even think about fitting in though they knew people made fun of them.
But Lewis was always busy busy busy. At first, he was a priest and had no time for tea, even if it were holy water flavored. Then he spent so much time enchanted by Alice whom the Hatter loved as well- actually they share a peculiar friendship. Alice loved his nonsense. He loved her trying to make sense of nonsense.
Then Lewis changed. They said he entered that Looking Glass and saw things. Heck, they say Lewis was not Lewis anymore
He was now Carolus.
A pen name? The Hatter wondered sipping tea.
These circumstances left only the March Hare to accompany him in his tea parties.
The March, once a child, now a child in an adult’s body was a fitting companion - it was said that he had seen atrocities that made him grow earlier into this adult body, but it was also said that he was like Peter Pan, not wanting to grow up.
Either way, the March Hare was fun.
They sat everyday drinking tea at the long white table in the middle of Wonderland, enjoying it so much you would think they were high on mushrooms and other wordy substances.
Little did Wonderlanders know that lads like them needn’t do drugs to feel good. Feeling good was a simple choice. Yes, they had to work for it every day but it was possible.
A click of teacups.
A few jokes about nothing in particular.
If that was a not enough then smashing cups and plates did it.
Sometimes they invited passers-by for a drink. Those were the days with the most fun. Meeting someone new. Exchanging thoughts and ideas then letting them go.
These were the Hatter's parties that attracted the children.
There was no fun back home with mum and dad being boring and borderline psychotic, worn down by the darkness of everyday life.
The Hatter seemed free and loosened up with no worries.
Here children came.
They drank tea.
They laughed at nonsense - their favorite part.
And they snatched teacups.
Also, the children’s parents didn’t mind: why not. They wanted to rest and could not attend to the burden of the child they once brought into the world. Talk about irresponsible parents huh?
But the Hatter had never been judgmental.
He loved the company.
The March Hare loved that children accepted him as an old child.
All was good and all was fun, until, like every story, a beautiful woman crossed the Hatter’s path.
The White Queen.
True, the Hatter could never reason why he choked on his tea or why his heart raced. But he knew it was her. She was the one he would give up everything for. No long love stories. No love-hate relationships. No reasoning why love happened.
Come on, this was Wonderland and the Hatter loved nonsense.
What is love but a beautiful act of nonsense?
But that was then...
All pearly and flowery beginnings and all.
Now Fabiola, after her encounter with the Pillar was damaged, and he had to do something about it.
Not only for her. But everyone in Wonderland whom the Pillar hurt.
In the most nonsensical and naive way, the Hatter decided to go talk to the Pillar and stop him. Maybe persuade him over tea.
Because why the hell would someone be that evil? Didn’t the Pillar know that we are only characters in a book?
And off to the Pillar he went.
He was never to be seen again.