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There was still something unfinished around her eyes; she wasn’t done yet. She was a story, not an epilogue.
There aren’t as many of you as there once were. Either the doors are getting rarer, or you’re all getting better about not coming back.
“Because hope is a knife that can cut through the foundations of the world,”
they were overwhelmingly girls, Nancy realized.
“I’m Jack, short for Jacqueline,” said the one in the glasses. She pointed to the one in pink. “This is Jill, short for Jillian, because our parents should never have been allowed to name their own children.
“Logic? Nonsense? Wicked? What do those things even mean?” “They’re directions, or the next best thing,”
“Here in the so-called ‘real world,’ you have north, south, east, and west, right? Those don’t work for most of the portal worlds we’ve been able to catalog. So we use other words. Nonsense, Logic, Wickedness, and Virtue. There are smaller subdirections, little branches that may or may not go anywhere, but those four are the big ones.
You know, I read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland when I was a kid, and I never thought about what it would be like for Alice when she went back to where she’d started.
“Off you go. Dream sweetly, try not to sleepwalk, and please don’t wake me up at midnight trying to force a portal to manifest in the downstairs pantry. It isn’t going to happen.”
“How is it that everyone wants to go back? I thought people who went through this sort of thing mostly just wanted to go back to their old lives and forget that they’d ever known anything else.”
Their love wanted to fix her, and refused to see that she wasn’t broken.
If I knew the taste of the sound of screaming, I’d add that as well, and never drink anything again, as long as I chanced to live.”
“Why is your happy-ever-after the only one that matters?”
You’re nobody’s rainbow. You’re nobody’s princess. You’re nobody’s doorway but your own, and the only one who gets to tell you how your story ends is you.
