Childhood in Wonderland (Twisted Wonderland Drabbles)

Bitter Tea ❤️

The young Riddle of five years sat in the corner of his family's grand living room, squeezed between a couch and a grandfather clock. He didn't mind the tight space, for he actually enjoyed "hiding" in this way from all the commotion that ran around his home, as many shy children tend to like, and this was the safe space he would sometimes run off to whenever he had time to play, mainly to keep out if his mother's way.

And--goodness! There was so much commotion going on that day! At least, it seemed that way to such a young child who was seldom given much say.

Riddle watched in silence as several servants rushed from one room to the next, all so quick, all so frantic. Some even appeared to be out of breath. Some carried trays of napkins and fine china plates, some carried books of history and fantasy, some held a single tea kettle or flower vase... No matter what they held in their hands, all the servants were busy with one task or another, going here and there, hither and thither. Like worker bees, they moved from one flower to the next. Nectar from one room transported to the next, and the next, and the next. It all seemed this way to Riddle who tried to follow them all with his eyes as they ran in and out, becoming dizzy as he did so.

And, right in the middle of all this commotion and busy rushing, there stood the queen bee herself, swiftly commanding each and every servant with a particular and precise task. Riddle's mother. Her grace was unable to be matched. The way that she directed with such ease and with a calm yet stern tone was admirable, and Riddle idolized this as he watched his mother thrive in all her commanding glory.

At least half an hour went by--truly, an eternity to a child of age five--when, at long last, Riddle's mother sighed and relaxed. She drew a breath deep and long, and then released it loudly. Such hard work she had done, studying and organizing every detail of the mansion's summer redecoration until Every. Single. Thing. was made perfect.

"This is good enough for now... Thank you all for your efficient work."

All the servants seemed to stop their frenzy in unison as they relaxed along with their mistress, allowing for their shoulders to fall and slump forward as they breathed out their exhaustion.

Riddle's mother was quick to pull herself together once more, and she immediately called on a servant to assist in tightening her corset. Riddle watched as one of the young female maids quickly rushed to his mother's side and began to tighten the lace. His mother gasped from the pressure and stumbled slightly back from the taut strings at her waist. However, her posture was now made perfect, and her figure made more refined, and she seemed pleased enough at this result despite the pain.

The young boy continued to watch his mother with the admiration and love that every child holds toward their caretakers. She now made her way over to the mirror that was framed in gold and hung at the center of the living room wall like an elegant decoration. She examined her figure and then leaned forward to get a close look at her face. Riddle couldn't help but give a small giggle as he observed his mother making rather funny faces at the mirror while rubbing away a spot of lipstick that had traveled to the corner of her lip.

Right as she finished, another servant entered the room. Bowing respectfully with a slight bend of his waist, he said, "Your afternoon tea is ready, Mistress."

Riddle's mother straightened herself once more. "Thank you," she said with a nod of her head, "I'll be on my way."

As the servant exited, she turned and slowly walked over to the corner where her son was trying to remain hidden between the furniture.

"Riddle... Are you there, dear?" she asked in a sing-song voice that young children always seemed to love.

Out popped Riddle from in between the couch and the clock upon hearing the sweet voice of his mother. He stood up quickly from where sat in that tiny space, giving his mom a small smile while his eyes glowed with joy to be near her.

"I knew you were there!" she exclaimed with a laugh, "And I also know that you have been watching me for quite a long time. Come," she reached out her hand to him, "why don't you join me for tea?"

Riddle beamed with excitement and grinned widely. He had never been invited to attend his mother's afternoon tea before! He eagerly took his mother's hand and followed her into the dining room where everything was elegantly spread around the head of the long table.

Riddle's mother pulled out a chair and gestured for him to sit at the left of the end seat, right beside her.

Happily taking his seat, Riddle watched his mother with a smile as she poured them both a cup of the warm tea and placed a dry biscuit in each of their small plates. She lifted the cup to her lips and took a small sip. Looking down at her son, she said, "Go on."

At his mother's words, Riddle gladly took his own cup and sipped it the same way his mother did.

The taste was sickening.

The cup clanged against his as he quickly set it down. The horrible liquid sat still in his mouth, tormenting his tongue further for he could hardly swallow it.

When he finally got it down, his face was flushed with pain. "Momma, that is so bitter!" he complained, for his young taste could not handle the strength of the tea.

"It is a taste you must get used to," his mother replied, "Try it with a biscuit."

Doing as she said, Riddle took his dry biscuit and dipped it into his cup. The tea soaked the crumbly bread, making it soft and damp and more appetizing to eat.

Pulling it out from the cup, he touched the soaked biscuit to his tongue, and he immediately knew that he could not handle the taste again, even in this form. He placed the biscuit back down on his plate and stubbornly shook his head.

"Riddle!" His mother had no grown quite impatient with him, "Your behavior is horrible! To attend tea means that you must drink what's been served to you."

" Momma... Can't I just sit here with you?"

"No!" she scolded angrily, "You simply must drink the tea if you even wish to sit here. That is the rule. You are not allowed to be here unless you partake properly."

Feeling so dejected, tears began began to well in Riddle's eyes. His mother didn't want him around unless he abide by the rules, isn't that right? He choked a sob that sprang free from his throat, unable to keep it down. He then leapt quickly out of his chair and ran, ran, ran back to the living room. He squeezed himself between the couch and the grandfather clock once more and cried and cried into his palms. Silent crying with the occasional gasp for breath. All the tears too heavy to hold spilled and spilled from his eyes.

His mother didn't want him around unless he followed the rules. That was so clear, wasn't it? And, oh! All he wanted was to be with his mother! To have her smile when she looked at him, and to be pleased with him in every way. He knew what he had to do.

After his much-needed crying, Riddle dried his eyes in attempt to leave no trace of his sadness, though his eyes were now puffed and nose was now red. As quickly as he had left, Riddle ran back to the dining room and seated himself in the chair beside his mother.

"Oh?" His mother looked to him with seemingly no concern for the tears she caused moments prior. "Are you going to join me again? Will you do so properly now?"

Riddle pressed his lips together to fight back that childish crying and nodded quickly. He sat stiffly in his chair, perfect posture, and began to drink the bitter tea without complaint, hiding his mouth behind his hand as he gagged at every sip.