I N S A N I T Y 5
W O N D E R
BY CAMERON JACE
www.CameronJace.com
First Original Edition, December 2015
Copyright ©2015 Cameron Jace
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Other Books by Cameron Jace
The Grimm Diaries Prequels Series
The Grimm Diaries Prequels 1-6 (Free)
The Grimm Diaries Prequels 7-10
The Grimm Diaries Prequels 11-14
The Grimm Diaries Prequels 15-18
The Grimm Diaries Main Series
Snow White Sorrow (book 1)
Cinderella Dressed in Ashes (book 2)
Blood, Milk & Chocolate Part 1 (book3)
I Am Alive Series
I Am Alive (book 1)
Pentimento Series
Pentimento (book 1)
Books in the Insanity Series
Insanity
Figment
Circus
Hookah
Special thanks to
Greeje Wijnstok, Hannah Flood, Laura Guilbault & Sadie Muncy – among others – for their dedication, friendship, & keen insights with the tiniest details of the story.
How to read this book:
Begin at the beginning
and go until you come to the end;
then wait for the next book.
For those who believe they’re neither their past or future,
but this very moment.
The now.
Prologue Part One
BIG BEN, LONDON
Mr. Tick and Mrs. Tock were dangling their feet, sipping tea and eating brownies on top of the Big Ben tower in London. Mr. Tick was tall, lanky, with a head that looked like a cantaloupe. He wore a long coat, but short enough at the bottom that his rainbow-colored socks showed from underneath. He didn’t wear boots, but sandals, which gave way to his big toes. Mr. Tick had three hairies on top of his head. He spent a significant time nourishing and combing them. He wondered whether to comb them to the left, to the right, or spike them up with gel. Maybe going freestyle was the next move.
But Mr. Tick’s most precious item was the golden watch that dangled from his pocket. A watch that Mrs. Tock liked to made fun of.
“You’re on time, Mr. Tick,” she said. “Just like you’ve always been.”
“I’m not on time, Mrs. Tock,” Mr. Tick said. “It’s you who is always late, Mrs. Tock.”
“That’s my job. I have no choice,” she said, leaning on her cane, the back of her short, stocky figure arching forward. “The Tick always arrives first, then the Tock follows. The rules of time since the beginning of time.”
“Complaining much?” Mr. Tick’s chin turned up and away from her. He was staring at the city of London buried in heavy rain, drinking raindrops from a teacup in his hand. “Blame it on the Gods of Wonderland. They’re who made us that way.”
“Sexist Gods,” Mrs. Tock said. “Why do women always come second in their calculations? I’d prefer to be a Tick, not a Tock. I’d have loved to always arrive sooner, not later.”
“Too late for that,” Mr. Tick mocked her. “Look at you. You’re old, short, stocky, and can barely walk with ease. I think being Mrs. Tock suits you fine.”
“Yeah?” She sneered, her white hair flapping to a breeze. “And you’re tall. Too tall. Bald. And thin. The characteristics of a loon.”
“We’re all loons in Wonderland,” he said, amusing himself. “Besides, I’m not bald. I have three hairies.”
This comeback irritated Mrs. Tock. So she hit him in the knees with her cane. Mr. Tick’s skinny frame collapsed to his knees. Immediately, she plucked out one of his hairies.
“Ouch,” he said.
“Ouch, indeed.” She sneered again. “Now you only have two. Bother me further, and I’ll cut off your head like the Queen of Hearts does.”
“You can’t do that to me, vicious woman.” He slowly stood up, snatching the hairy back from her hand. He spat on it then plastered it back on his head. “I’m Mr. Tick. I work for Time itself. I can’t die.”
“Not if I kill you first. And you know what’s good about being Mrs. Tock? I’ll die after you, since I always come second.” She stuck out her tongue. “Which will give me the pleasure of watching you take your last breath.”
“All right.” He waved his watch in the air. “Just bloody calm down. Go play with one of your cards to kill time, lazy woman.”
“And you go sip your tasteless six o’clock tea like you do every day, monotonous man.”
“I hate you so much now.” He sighed. “You used to be fun when we were in Wonderland.”
“That’s because Wonderland was fun, enough that I overlooked your shortcomings, you tall and stupid Mr. Tick.”
“Ah, those days may never come back.” He sighed again. “Remember when were allowed to stop time?”
Now she glowered. “Oh, my. That was frabjous. I remember how we messed with the Hatter’s mind when every hour stayed six o’clock for six years, and he would go mad trying to change it.”
“I do. I do.” He chuckled. “I really miss those days. I wonder if the Real Alice will ever show up so we can go back to Wonderland.”
“I wonder.” Now she sighed, hugging his tall frame by the waist.
Emotions surged through Mr. Tick’s soul. He stared at the Big Ben. The famous clock was a few seconds late. Mr Tick cursed the human inaccuracy. “Look at what those humans did to Big Ben, Mrs. Tock.”
“I know, Mr. Tick. Horrible. Even I don’t arrive that late.”
“Tell you what.” Mr. Tick gripped her by the shoulders and lifted her up to look in her eyes. “How about we play, like in the old days.”
“What do you mean?”
His eyes veered sideways toward Big Ben. “Let’s stop time again!”
“Really? In this world?”
“Absolutely. Let’s drive people mad.”
“A very mimsy idea, Mr. Tick. I was starting to get bored out of my mind.”
Mr. Tick put her back down then pulled out his pocket watch, fiddling with its hands. “Clock. Clock. Clock. Tick. Tac. Tock.” He started humming.
So did Mrs. Tock.
Slowly they watched London freeze into a dull and grey portrait of people, traffic, and amazing architecture caught under inanimate drops of rain, now hanging in midair.
Mr. Tick and Mrs. Tock couldn’t be happier. No one had the power to do this but them. After all, they were working for Mr Time himself, and they had been unhappily married since the beginning of… well… time itself.
Prologue Part Two
STREETS OF LONDON
Now that the time on Big Ben had frozen at six o’clock, Mr. Tick and Mrs. Tock descended to the streets. It was so much fun with everyone stuck in their place and position.
A man talking on the phone, his mouth left agape.
A woman strolling a shopping cart, still bent over it, one leg up behind her.
A speeding car stopped with an aura of its shadow stretching behind it, like in Road Runner cartoon.
“What now, Mrs. Tock?”
“I’m enjoying this. Look at those people frozen, unaware of what’s happening to them. Do you want to slap a few people on the face?”
“Not fun enough.”
“Empty their pockets and leave them broke when they wake up?”
“Still not fun enough.”
“You could lift me up so I poke their noses.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh,” Mrs. Tock said. “I think I know what you will consider fun enough.” She smirked.