New
Candy Jump
"Oh, drat," the Hatter vibrated, his silhouette blurring into a dozen ghostly versions of himself. "I've gone so fast I've arrived back at yesterday. Does anyone want a scone I haven't baked yet?"
With a sudden pop of displaced air, the table was empty. The tea was gone. The Hatter was gone. All that remained was the faint, high-pitched ringing of a clock that had finally given up on keeping track of him.
"No time! No time! The clock is holding its breath!" he shrieked, his voice pitched up into a manic whistle.
The tea party wasn't just late; it was vibrating. Hatter wasn't sitting; he was a blur of plaid and frantic energy, his limbs moving like a film reel set to triple speed. He didn't pour the tea; he shattered the concept of pouring. One moment the porcelain pot was upright, the next, twelve cups were full, steaming, and already cold from the sheer wind of his movement.
"Why is he... so fast?" Alice whispered, shielding her eyes from the strobe-light effect of the Hatter’s movements.
