"The Room of Broken Things" by Christine Hou

       “I’ll call you Alice.”
       He sat on a three-legged chair, tipped back to balance on the brink of toppling. A black top hat, edges ragged, was perched forward on his head, shadowing his eyes but not the smirk that shaped his mouth. One arm was bent behind to pillow his neck; the other twirled two glass spheres. He glanced from the orbs to regard the girl standing beyond the small, uneven table.
       The girl perched her hands on her slim hips and raised her chin as she said, “But my name is not Alice!”
       “Of course it isn’t, but it’ll do.” He smiled beneficently as he pulled a third sphere out of a pocket started to juggle.
       Taken back by his strange reply, the girl bit her lip and tried to put forth a brave face. She was not quite sure how she had ended up where she was. However, since she was here, her upbringing dictated that she make the most of it. Grasping her skirts, she gave her presumed host a small curtsey.
       Rising, she said, “Well then, I am Alice, sir. And what may I call you?”
       “Why anything you like!” He replied as he somehow materialized a fourth ball.
       Alice creased her brow in consternation. “But don’t you have a name, sir?”
       At this, he gave a loud laugh and threw the spheres into the air. They hit the ceiling and disappeared with faint popping noises. Pushing up his hat, he said, “Naturally I do, but it hardly matters. There’s little point in me telling you my name or you telling me yours.”
       “How so?” Alice moved to perch tentatively on a chair missing half its back.
       “Simple. It takes too long. And besides, what’s the point in remembering the name of someone you’ll only meet once?”
       Alice took a moment to try and bend her mind around his thinking. “But how do you know we won’t meet again?”
       “I don’t. But it hardly matters. Either way, you’ll be Alice and I’ll be—”
       “The Hatter!” Alice declared and then blushed at her rudeness. The name had come upon her quite suddenly as had the urge to blurt it out.
       The Hatter merely smiled, and nodded his head. “The Hatter it is.”
       Then he glanced past her at one of the tilted walls and his eyes widened in surprise.
       “Oh look, it’s 3 already. Time for a little snack I say,” he exclaimed, jumping from his seat. The chair fell to rest on its three legs, somehow standing without its fourth.
       Looking at the clock the Hatter had consulted, Alice was perplexed to find it stopped. In fact, the cuckoo had decided to remain outside its little house indefinitely, gazing about with a dejected look upon its tiny, wooden face.
       “But it’s broken!” Alice protested.
       The Hatter shot her a quizzical look as he passed her to open one of the cabinets against the wall. “Of course it is, silly girl, or it wouldn’t be here. This is, after all, the Room of Broken Things.”
       Alice looked around the irregular room at the various deformed, and mismatched objects strewn about and could not argue the name.
       Pulling a tea set out of the cabinet, the Hatter added, “But clocks tell time, and if it says it is 3 o’clock, it must be 3 o’clock.”
       Alice blinked in consternation. There was something not quite right with his reasoning but she was too confused to figure out what. The Hatter went about setting up the dishes and readying the tea. As she helped set their places, a question came to her and she could not hold her tongue.
       “But why am I here, and you? Surely, we’re not broken!”
       He chuckled as he returned to his seat. “Of course we’re broken or we wouldn’t be here. This place does have rules, you know. Scone?”
       “Oh, thank you.” Alice accepted the scone he handed her. Nibbling the flaky treat, she wondered if anything made sense in this place. They ate in silence but for the soft clinking of silver against china. When she had finished her tea, she wiped her mouth, clasped her hands and regarded her host solemnly. Before she could open her mouth, the Hatter leaned forward to rest on an elbow and grinned.
       “You’re not going to do anything as silly as thank me, are you?” He asked, the hint of laughter tracing his voice.
       Frowning, Alice asked,
       “How is that silly?”
       The Hatter merely shrugged as he picked up the tea pot and poured himself another cupful.
       A bit miffed at being ignored, Alice pushed back her chair and stood up. Looking around the room, she noticed abruptly that there were no doors or windows. Or if there were, they had been hidden behind heaps of random objects and misshapen furniture.
       “How in the world do you get out of this place?” she muttered to herself. “Or for the matter, how did I get in?”
       “Through the looking glass of course.”
       Alice shot a glance at her companion. “Pardon?”
       “I said,” The Hatter drawled, leaning back in his chair once more, empty teacup dangling off one finger. “You came through the mirror and I presume that you will leave that way as well.”
       Alice followed his gaze to look at a mirror leaning against the wall not too far from her. It was a large one, nearly her height, cracked and dusty.
       “I came through that!?”
       The Hatter nodded before realizing she could not see him and said, “Yes indeed.”
       Alice stared at the mirror for a long moment before whispering, “You’re crazy.”
       “Oh no, no, no,” The Hatter hurriedly denied, “Not crazy, merely broken.”
       “Same thing!” Alice cried, “And I’m most certainly not broken!”
       “Oh yes you are! You’re looking for your mother, aren’t you?” He retorted. “You’re missing something aren’t you? You are undoubtedly broken!”
       Alice paused at his words, shaken. “H-how did you know I was looking for my mother? I didn’t tell you.”
       The Hatter shrugged. “Why else would a little girl like you be out wandering alone?”
       Though Alice was sure there must be other reasons for little girls to be wandering about, none came to her at the moment. Instead, her mind was filled with the fear that she would never leave this musty, forgotten place. She was suddenly blinking back tears as she gazed at her fractured image in the broken mirror.
       Then the Hatter was next to her, his hand just barely brushing her shoulder. “Now there, no need for tears, Alice. This really isn’t so bad a place. Much nicer, in fact, than most places Out There.”
       Alice sniffed and looked at him, his form a mere blur of color. Her voice was a whispery croak as she said, “But I have to find her.”
       The Hatter sighed. “Well, it’ll not be a pleasant search. It’s a lot harder getting fixed than broken you know.”
       He hesitated for a moment before reaching out and touching the surface of the looking glass. Alice watched in shock as the mirror’s surface trembled and began to mend. Slowly the cracks in the glass melded together from where his finger had touched. Then she was looking at a perfect image of a richly carpeted hallway lit by gaslights.
       Alice looked from the mirror portal to the Hatter, forgetting her fear in favor of awe. She caught herself before she thanked him and, instead, swept him her best curtsey. He stood solemnly for a moment before smiling again his mocking smile—though it lacked its earlier edge—and bowed.
       Taking a deep breath, Alice stepped through the looking glass.