[WIP] Wonderland Noir, Book 1 (Prologue,Chapter 1, and Chapter 2 Complete!)

I’ve had a craving for Wonderland content lately and lookie that! It’s mixed with Private Investigator shenanigans! It’s hard to put anything to say because it really sucked me in :kissing_closed_eyes: but it IS very interesting. It was a bit confusing to me, some stuff, but hey I’m usually slow at some stuff so…

Also, I can’t describe the feeling, but I always feel a bit of mmm, ominousness(?) whenever I look at the stats page. The ‘There are no angels in this world’ is really really intriguing, it just gives a sense of haunting to me and gives me a bit of heebeejeebies

hmm well i dunno if this is spoilers but well its in Chapter 1 so is the Castoff House out in the public and doesn’t try to hide or does it only appear to specific people like the MC?? Sorry if its a dummy questionnn

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Thanks for taking a look at my story! What in particular was confusing for you? Sometimes I struggle with painting a clear picture because, as the author, its can be challenging to separate what I know/have only hinted at from what I’ve clearly stated. If that makes sense? I can always clarify a few things in the text, if necessary. It should be a twisting forest path, not an impenetrable stone labyrinth.

Not a dumb question at all! The Castoff House can be a bit shy. Its never there when you’re looking for it. You couldn’t ever write directions to it, but if you take the sunless alleyway on the way back from the hospital, it’ll be at the end. If you’re walking across a tall bridge, thinking about what it would be like to jump, you’ll find its doors open no matter which way you descend.

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Oooh I’m sorry, but I’ve had all my questions answered so far after another reread hehe, but I promise I’ll go running here if I have anymore questions! Besides, I can’t properly word my questions unless they are fresh from my thoughts ToT. This is a really nice offer though, since sometimes there are some stuff/context I can’t pick up unless directly stated :smiling_face_with_tear: sooo I’ll drop by when I’m confused about some stuff, but that doesn’t mean you don’t describe everything so beautifully yet being understandable~~

Hm, hm okay! So it comes by only when you need it to stray away from doing something potentially harmful just to feel a certain feeling, like feeling death or jumping off — but it won’t show up as easily if you only want it, kinda like preventing addiction ig, but ah, MC is kind of a regular aren’t they o-o?

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Things are going a bit slow. I ended up dreaming an ending that I like much better than the one I originally planned. I think I’ll focus on the degradation of emotions over time, such as the strength of love. cough cough. Figured that might resonate with people a bit more, but what do I know?

Also, I think I’ll add some character customization at the intro, with variable personality traits that change the prose. People like that, right? Also, your detective will be able to be named. Sort of surprised I forgot about that, honestly.

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Not dead! Holiday celebrations impeded my pace, but everything is coming along nicely. Went a bit overboard with character monologues, and some scenes require a flowery revisit, but overall I’m proud of it so far.

In addition to the next case, this upcoming update will also have:

-A memory repository in the stats screen, containing important events and all the memories you’ve visited

-An additional scene in Chapter 1, giving more detail about the MC’s backstory and ‘gift’, as well as how it shaped their life. The groundwork for the key event that broke them will also be explored.

-Hopefully some improved prose, as well as some clarification on certain events.

See you all real soon. As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated. I want this story to be the best it can be.

If anyone is interested in becoming involved more deeply with this project, please do not hesitate to reach out. I’ve saved seats for you all at the Tea Party.

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Well, after three (!) rewrites, I finally have the next chapter fully written. Going to take most of this week to do some editing and then I’ll release it. Looking forward to sharing it with you all.

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Sunken, watery eyes. Alice is here.

Well it took an eternity and a half, but the next chapter has been uploaded. To skip directly to it, you have to skip to Chapter 1 and the next choice will have the option to skip to Chapter 2. There’s still some segments I’m not happy with, but we’ll see how it goes. Please let me know what you think!

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I am very confused, are we hallucinating in wonderland?

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Hey everyone! Popping into existence to comment on this story! First of all, it is exceptionally well-written. It is beautiful and deeply sad and I can’t get it out of my mind. The prose and imagery transports you to the bizarre, fantastical, and warped funhouse mirror of reality that is Wonderland. The world is constantly pulsating and shifting around you, and any flicker of security or solidness is quickly followed by disorienting madness. I loved this chapter for deepening the lore, too. All of the oddities in Wonderland aren’t just strange or disturbing for strangeness’s sake — everything is purposeful. It is crafted so intricately and every little detail seems to have a deeper meaning to it, but at the same time it doesn’t leave you feeling lost or confused (only as much as your character is!). This section also has some really tender, heart-felt character interactions and my soul needed that after what it was subjected to for multiple chapters! But uh…strap in, because this one is emotionally devastating. Thank you for breaking my heart @Wannabe_Human

What choice did you make at the ending? The revelation of this chapter was so devastating to me. I let her remain in Wonderland. Even with the hideous truth is seeping into and distorting her fantasy world, I think that’s preferable to acknowledging the death of the person you love most. But I do feel pangs of guilt for not “rescuing her”. I’ll stick with it for now but might replay with the other choice.

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Yes, but also no. The chapter transition to the hotel is intended to be a bit odd and disorienting, but by the end what is going on should (mostly) be clear. I’ve had issues in the past with my works containing too much ambiguity, so if there’s something in particular that stands out to you let me know.

@SomberReflections422
Wow! Thanks so much for the detailed feedback! It truly means a lot to me.

Minor update: There were some stray comments left over. They’ve since been removed.

Another Minor Edit: The mystery of Teleporting Lauren has been solved. Turns out she got on pages she wasn’t supposed to.

Readers that are particularly eagle-eyed and astute may have noticed faint recurring spider motif. This was a remnant from when the thing beneath the lake was a spider-goddess whose threads were weaved into guitar strings. But she’s gone, now. And only a few sentences of her remain.

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Let’s do a poll.

What did you choose for the vinetape girl and why?
  • I let her go to Wonderland
  • I rescued her

0 voters

I am the Questing Beast. My Jaws go snicker-snak, and my claws catch. I cry in the rain, and throw myself off of mountains. Though my countenance repulses me, it draws the eye of so many others. Not because they see my beauty, but they know that my scales can be sold for seven gold coins per pound. My eyes can be used as beacons to alight the darkest caverns and further their explorations of the ancient mines and discoveries of precious metals. My wings are too small, frail, and leathery to allow my body to take flight, and they get caught snickersnak within the boughs of these trees, but they may allow men to stand upon clouds and become as gods one day. But I know they covet my teeth most of all, for it can pierce the heart of both mountains and men. Sometimes, when I scratch at my face so hard my teeth fall out, I leave them in piles where they may be found. They are not strong enough to pierce my scales, else I would chew myself to death. I cannot speak to them. I cannot even scream or howl. I can only gurgle impotently, barely above a whisper, and hope that it may catch the ears of one of the thousands of hunters that stalk this forest in search of me. If I am loud enough, perhaps I may be allowed to die. I can only think in one language, and my claws are too stiff to write. When I hear them crashing through the woods and dining on birds in search of me, I feel elation. For I know that this may be the time that I die.

I tell myself that I will welcome it. That their revulsion of my distended jaw and serpentine face will steel their hearts, and the projection of their fears may send their blades screaming past my scales. That I won’t fight back, no matter how long it takes them to kill me. But I cannot. When they arrive, I feel fright. I feel fear. Not of the end, but of the slowness of its approach. It may take them days. And so I run. Or if I have met them before, I fight back. And I always kill them. I don’t mean to. It makes me feel ill. I always vomit up their guts after I finish chewing them. I try to bury their heads beneath the trees, where the roots may keep the worms away. And then I run. I burble and I trample and scratch a trail and I throw myself off cliffs and hope to die and hope that I might be found again. Sometimes, I know that my claws are long enough. I could stick them down my throat and kill myself. But I don’t. For though I hate my life, it gives so many others purpose. Something to tell their wives and sons. Something for them to do. To put their hopes in. I am the constant companion of the wearied mercenary, looking to end their life in glorious battle instead of their own piss and shit. I give purpose. I give meaning. And so, sometimes I keep myself alive. its all very confusing. I don’t remember all the words anymore. It makes more sense when Alice explains it.

I am the Questing Beast. My heart is electric. My mind is fog. I used to think. I used to know figures and numbers and Shakespeare, and that red flowers were lovely, but now I know only the joy of shade and the tallness of trees.I know what it is like to be a beast, and lay in the dirt and suckle on rocks. I might’ve been a human, or something close, long ago. But I am nothing now. I am an idea. I am what people picture when they hear ‘Questing Beast’.

I am the Questing Beast. Neither the Quest nor Beast may ever end. I am many miles long, now. Perhaps I could even stretch my neck higher than the trees, and rest my head above the canopy. And one day I could speak, and I could say to all the hunters “Here I am! Come, slay me!” and they would. But I know the sun would burn me, and the trees would stab my neck, and my incomprehensible speech would provoke only birds. I babble constantly, trying to find the syllables to speak. But I have forgotten them.

I am the Questing Beast. My thoughts curl like fingers. It is difficult to think properly. Sometimes I look into a pond of water and I see myself and I cry. I weep for my existence. I weep that people have to see me. I weep for those that hunt me. I weep for the Quest and the Beast.

I am the Questing Beast. I feel my thoughts departing. My words crumbling into babbles and grunts. My eyes will be as dolls, empty and lifeless. Instead of approaching the hunters with handshakes, I will growl and frighten them.

I am the Questing Beast. my life gives others purpose. It is all I have now. I see looking-glass on the ground, and through them I see others that look like me. And I sob, for why must others be cursed with my existence? My thoughts track like mud. Have I tried to die here before?

I have forgotten what I am. I hear crashing nearby. My heart quickens. I burble.

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I think I’m going to give the most recently released chapter another bout of editing. Anything in particular that needs to be cleaned up?

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