Hiya Hanna. My apologies for the delay in completing your review. Between working 10 hour days and putting up 8600 Christmas lights, I've been a little bit beat. If you have questions or comments, do not hesitate to ask. I look forward to the revision.
Title: Dreams in Wonderland
Author: Hanna  
Chapter: One
Plot:
Style / Voice: I love that you used Kevin as the narrator for this story. The vernacular is convincing.
Setting: I would like to see more of your Wonderland. What you have shown is enough to tantalize. Flood our senses with the smells and tastes
Characters: You might consider including Toto a little more during the latter part of the story, particularly since you started the story out with finding his mangy, mutilated behind.
Grammar: See line by line
My Opinion: This a cute story, and I enjoyed reviewing it. Keep in mind that any changes that I have made are merely suggestions. I do not want to try to alter your writing voice.
A few thoughts. I change some of the “dreams” to “stories”. See if it suits you. It may have been a misinterpretation of your intentions. I look forward to see how this story will evolve.
Line By Line:
Why did I have to name that wisp of a stray dog TOTO? It was the beginning of the most unbelievable adventure. Unbelievable trouble I would call it, but who am I to change the meaning of long words?
Toto was wet and hungry when I found him under the old two-wheel wagon in Mr. Dempsey's stable. All I could see was a pair of burning eyes ogling me suspiciously and a big ugly cut on one ear. The ear was actually torn and gave the poor thing a terrible look.
It took a while to gain his trust, but gee, when he came outI had one of Mrs. Annabelle’s famous sweet rolls, and that smell pulled him out faster than any leash ever could. After that he was all over me. I took him to Mama Holster, because there is no one in a hundred miles around that can fix wounded animals like Mama Holster.
She wanted to know if I'm going to keep that poor bastard, for ’cause she said she ain't goin' to waste her precious ointment on a stray. So, would YOU have said you're not keeping him? I said yes, he'll be mine from that day on, and when she said I must name him I said Toto, and that was it.
That was how I came to be Toto's owner. His ear remained in its half version, and it didn't even hurt his hearing none. Even when he waswell fed, he was still a tiny dog, but he barked in a shrieking high pitch that could bring the sheriff running. He followed me everywhere and became a laughingstock to my friends.
I am unclear as to whether Kevin or the Toto is the laughingstock. Include a pronoun (I or he) before “became” to clarify. Also, consider including one of the common jibes used by the neighborhood kids (“That dog is even uglier than you, Kevin”… or “He’s lucky that we have air in this football, ‘cause I’d be punting that dog right now”.)
I also took the liberty of restructuring this paragraph a little. I think that it flows better and sounds more natural now.
Oh, I forgot to tell you, my name is Kevin. I'm 13 and live around the corner from Dempsey's stable, in the attic of the Guns and Roses Saloon. No, you don't have to raise a brow and say it ain't a proper place for a boy to live in. I'll have you know that it's clean, well aired and if not for the big heart of Miss Annabelle, I would have lived in the streets. She’s always treated me like I was her real so, even though she ain’t never had no kids. Why, she’s the closest thing to a momma that I’ve even known.
new paragraph
Where are my parents you ask? Well, as long as I can remember, I've been asking the same question. I must have had parents at some stage of my life, but {c:}I guess they chose to dump me and vanished like a rabbit into its hole. I think I don't need them anymore, ’cause I've got a good name, Kevin Horseshoe, [and] I have a place to stay, and I've got Toto, [too]. Mrs. Annabelle calls me Kevin Horseshoe on account of the horseshoe that was with me when she found me. I’ve still got it, too. The horseshoe that was found on me is still with me.It must bring me good luck, since it brought me to Mrs. Annabelle. Besides, I'm kind of used to having it under my pillow when I go to sleep.
My adventure started on a cold winter morning, when the winds were blowing hard. I decided to stay in my attic, play with Toto and work on my painting. Christmas was only a week away and I was busy preparing a special picture for Miss Annabelle. I sat at the small table and got out the packet of crayons [I'd] bought from Joshua's General store. He was really nice when I came with my hard saved pennies to buy the crayons and found I was 3 pennies short. He said I must bring them another time[,] and let me have the crayons. He evenadded a couple of drawing sheets for me to do my painting on.
I thought [I'd] draw for Miss Annabelle the world she was always talking about, a place of wonders and miracles, where people [are] dressed up nicely and the ladies [are] respected and rich. Yes, she'll keep it by her bed and will look at it every night before going to sleep.
Throw in a little more description here. Tell me what sticks in the mind a young man after hearing fairy tales. I’m sure that rich, well dressed ladies are there, but there’s probably knights, and dragons, and trolls (oh, my!)
Ok. This is Now I will tell you what brought Toto and me into the heart of the Trouble... You want to hear about it, don't you?
When I started to color-in the picture, I didn't notice at first that the crayons I was using had different color[s] to what they were supposed to. I wanted Miss Annabelle's dress to be bright red, like the red velvet draperies she had in her drawing room, but each time I used the red crayon, the color came out blue like the sky. Strange things were going on. Toto jumped on my lap and stared at the street I [had] drawn[,] with Miss Annabelle standing there and all the people around her giving her curtsy and smiling widely.
Toto was scratching the road, the one that took me hours to paint. I made it paved with bricks, unlike our dirt roads that become muddy every time the rain is pouring. Toto jumped on the table and got hold of the yellow crayon. He brought it to me and with his paw pushed it until it lay on my painting, where my brick road was drawn. He wanted me to paint the road yellow, but I told him the crayons had a mind of their own and it would probably come out purple or some other disgusting color. Toto barked, and I thought that he might get Mrs. Annabelle’s attention, so I took the yellow crayon and started painting the road with it. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, after all{.} The crayon felt strange in my hand[,] and when I looked at it more carefully, I saw it had eyes and a mouth and one of the eyes winked at me. I dropped it to the table like it was on fire. [The] crayon must have been bewitched… never seen anything like it!
Well, magic business or not, I picked the smiling crayon again and painted the brick road, ignoring the winking eyes. It came out yellow alright, and when I was done, Miss Annabelle looked like a real queen, standing on that road.
Perhaps you can describe where the eyes and mouth are located, and then show how he overcame his trepidation. Show him holding the crayon in a way that allowed the eyes to see the “painting”, and no covering its mouth. Did the crayon say anything? Maybe it started humming a little tune? Have fun with it.
I took the picture to the window[,] where there was more light. I wanted to see the colors. The picture was ruined with strange shades that don't exist… Damn crayons[.] I knew then why Mr. Joshua gave them to me[,] not minding I was 3 pennies short… they were spoiled crayons! I'll tell him to forget about those pennies!
Toto came down from the table and was pulling at my pants. "Toto, let me look at the picture. I'll take you for your walk in a minute," I said, but Toto started to bark so I went to the door to open it for him, thinking he can manage on his own watering the Magnolia tree at the back. Still holding the painting in my hand, I pushed the door handle down and the door flew open, nearly hitting me in the face. A strong gust of wind blew in and sucked poor Toto and me into a fast swirl that carried us out of the house and up towards the sun.
He lives upstairs, doesn’t he? I wonder if he shouldn’t have to walk downstairs to let Toto out. I’d hate to see him get sucked down a flight of stairs in a sudden and violent maelstrom and get hurt.
Yes. That’s really what happened. I don't tell no fairy tales. Honest to God! My heart was beating fast and my eyes were blinded by the strong yellow light. Toto was floating somewhere above my head, and so was the yellow crayon[,] which had grown tiny wings and was floating easily near Toto's disfigured ear. I reached for Toto, pulling him down, and the crayon just flew into my arms, then moved to nestle on my shoulder.
Toto seemed to be faint, his eyes closed and his heart hammering against his ribs. I gathered him to me and held him tight. Wherever we were going, we'll always have each otherI at least I had Toto to keep me company. The magical crayon flapped its tiny wings and winked. I don't know what part that little yellow creature played in the events, but he was sure keeping an eye on things.
You sound skeptic, Listener. You think I'm making this story up? Why would I? It is true, as true as the story about the bullfrog that went to bed with Widow Wilson… I swear on my horseshoe that everything happened just the way I say. So what happened next? Nothing much. We had fallen down into a place of wonders. Like the one I said Miss Annabelle was dreaming about?It was just like the stories that Miss Annabelle told me. Someone must have listened to her and made up a place just like it.
Toto came round as soon as my feet touched the ground. He jumped down, and I looked to see where he was going. The yellow crayon flew down to the ground and IIlooked around and was surprised to see we were standing on a brick road, a YELLOW brick road. Strange… I thought it only existed in my ruined picture…
Take this opportunity to do a little world building. Yes, even in short stories you can indulge in a little world building, sometimes to great benefit. What is beyond the yellow brick road? (I like the cliché, by the way) Cellophane trees and marmalade skies? A troop of miniature baboons swinging from the branches? Where are the munchkins? LOL.
Toto started chasing his tail[, like he was] mighty happy to be standing on that yellow road. Beats me why. I said, "Toto, pull yourself together! We don't know what this place is! All these flowers and fruits around us might be poisonous[. There could be] men-eating plants. Stay close to me and mind your step. I don't want you to fall into a rabbit hole."
The yellow crayon circled Toto in a quick swirl, creating a light arrow which started to travel away from us. The road was kind of moving under our feet, so we didn't really have to walk. It took us towards the big mountain, which I could see beyond the trees and the shrubs. It was a funny looking mountain; Thick at its base and pointy at the top, like a witch's hat. It also had the most unusual colors - half blue and half red, and a yellow line separating the colors.
How did it feel, the road moving under them? Could he feel the motion, or did he only notice when he saw the scenery moving past him? Are you sure that the crayon didn’t just draw an arrow on the road?
I had a strange feeling that the yellow line on the mountain was the one and same yellow brick road that was still moving under our feet. You say I should have gotten off that road? You don't think I am smart enough to have thought about [that] myself? Well, I am, and I did try to get off it, but there was an invisible something that wouldn't let Toto or me get off it. We were in a magical wonderland and I was kinda' looking forward to seeing what lay ahead.
This all seems a little dream-like. Doesn’t he feel even a little apprehensive? I mean, he got sucked out of his house attic by a miniature tornado, and now he is stuck on a freakin’ yellow escalator, headed towards God knows what at the top of the mountain. What if there’s a volcano up there? Or a tribe of demented accountants that are going to make sure that he gets audited? Eeeeek!
I picked up Toto and said to him not to worry, but I was getting worried. All around us, the trees and the wonderful flowers were dancing to a soft tune which started playing and seemed to have come from the mountain. The closer we got to it, the bolder the colors around us became[,] and the louder the music. The road seemed to increase its pace[,] and when it started to climb up the mountain I was going to die of fear.
My feet must have been glued to the road, or else I can't explain how come I didn't fall off it. Sometimes it looked like we were hanging almost upside down, but somehow it felt we were just standing there on a normal road. It took us all the way up the mountain, and somehow we made it! But wait, that was only the beginning. What happened next will rip your mind out of your skull. I promise you!
My, what colorful language for such a young man. I am trying to place this story in some kind of time period. I want to place it in a Victorian era time frame, but a comment like that seem to come from a more modern 13 year old. You know, the type that loves horror movies and likes to use shocking language to garner attention.
At the top, the road turned sharply into an unusual garden. It wasn’t like any garden I'[d] ever seen. The main path was made of yellow glass bricks and the other paths were each in a different color. The garden itself was full of bushes and tree, that didn't look real. They looked more like they were made of marzipan[. Y]ou know, like the baker's wife uses on wedding cakes, that sweet tasting stuff I always get from her when I help her carry the flour bags inside[? W]ell, that's what the garden looked like. When I saw Toto jumping off the path and munching on one of the flowers and my little yellow crayon having a feast on those leaves, I knew I wasn't wrong.
You might want to mention that the path stopped moving when he reached garden. That way he could choose which path to follow, and it would explain how the crayon and Toto could go and eat the shrubbery.
I [stayed on the yellow] path[,] and when I reached a round glass cabin, I stopped at the door and looked at the sign on it. It said "Welcome Kevin to Wonderland ". How they figured my name I can't tell you, but a horseshoe was glued on the sign. It looked identical to the one under my pillow. That gave me the chills. Knowing my name was one thing, but having a twin horseshoe meant trouble...
I tried to take the horseshoe off the sign but as soon as I touched it, the door opened and Toto ran ahead of me[,] barking gaily[. T]he crayon, on the other hand, seemed [as] reluctant to enter [as I was]. I decided that I didn’t really have any choice, though, so I just went ahead and followed them inside.
There was only one room in that cabin, but it was as big as Mr. Cooper's barn, you know, where we are having [have] the monthly dances. (I've seen you there kissing that fat redhead… No, I won't tell anyone. Cross my heart and hope to die! So, you'll hear my story till I'm done? Yeah, I thought you would…) Furniture of all sorts filled that huge room. Some of it was velvet[,] like in Annabelle's place, [and] some [of it was] like the Saloon with tables and chairs[. S]ome [of it was] like bedrooms in people's houses and [one corner looked] like the church kitchen[,] where we help when there is a wedding.
So many people were [moving] around [in that room that] my head got dizzy. A few I knew, but most of them] were strangers. The ones I knew were waving at me, smiling and clapping hands. I had no idea what they were doing there[,] or how they got there, but I intended to find out. The whole thing didn't make no sense to me. How could they all be there? Me and Toto - we took the Yellow Brick Road, and we had the winking crayon, but [what about] the others? They didn't have my painting to begin with. (You agree? And you weren't there… Yes I'm sure. But your fat friend was there with the baker's son. No, I'm not lying. Now, let me go on with the story.)
I wanted to go greet Miss Annabelle, who was sitting like a queen in a large armchair, dressed in a red velvet [dress that matched ]her velvet draperies. She was talking to some young men who were dressed like Abraham Lincoln is dressed in in those old pictures[. They were] all smiles and wide hand movements. It was just like in her dream [stories].
In the far corner I saw the widow Wilson in the arms of a hefty man, dancing to the music that was playing softly, unlike the music outside{/x|. They were moving gracefully, and when the man swirled her around I got a chance to see his face. Did I know him[,] you ask? You bet your silver dollar on it! It was the same bullfrog I put in the widow's bed the month before. Yes[, I admit it]. It was me who put that green monster in her bed. Why[did I do that to her]? [Well… t]hat's a different story. But he was there in that cabin, dressed like a gentleman, dancing with the widow. Don't ask me how that was possible, because I can't tell you. All I know is what I saw.
A little description of the frog-man would go a long way here. Is he mostly human, with frog-like features, or is he green, with web-footed, and leaving puddles all across the dance floor?
Then it came to me. If I was in wonderland, anything was possible. Miss Annabelle was having her dream living in one of her stories, so who knows what the widow was dreaming about when she found my frog in her bed? Perhaps this was her dream? (What do you say, Listener? Why would a young and beautiful widow dream of a frog? Might be on account the young men around her look all ugly as you?) But I thought that if they were having their dreams come true, there must be something [here] for me too… and I went looking for it[. I] thought I ought to find [that] magic crayon [,too]. I had the thought that maybe he was the one that [had] made [all of this] possible…
I turned around towards the entrance door, and there stood my yellow crayon, only he was no longer a tiny winged crayon. He was a full-size wizard, pointed hat and all. Honest to God, Listener. A real wizard! He wore a bright yellow robe and held his wand in his left hand[,] while his other hand pointed to the middle of the room. I looked there.
A young woman stood by herself, holding a baby in her arms. She was dressed in tattered clothes, [and] her hair covered with an old scarf. I could see [that] she was crying. Even if I wanted to tell you why Her eyes were so swollen she could hardly see - I couldn't. I thought I knew her, but as I came closer, I realized she was a stranger; never seen her around before. She looked frightened and peeked over her shoulder every now and then.
When I finally decided to talk to herI wanted to go talk to her, but as soon as I started to move toward her a man came running from the kitchen corner. He had a small box in his hand[,] which he handed to the woman. HE was someone I knew very well - the son of the richest man in the province - Jake Love. He said nothing, just gave the baby the eye, touched him and then disappeared amidst the crowds at the other end of the room.
What was in the box, you ask? I was wondering about it myself[. I]t had a yellow glow to it, and everybody in the room seemed to be looking that way, but I was more curious to find out why I was here. I turned and started to walk away when I heard a sharp cry coming from the woman. Turning back, I saw her crouching on the floor, the baby [still] clasped to her chest and a puddle of blood coming from underneath her.
She looked pale and fragile, and I knew she was [dying]. Don't ask me how I knew itI don’t know how I knew it, I just did. I could smell death [in the air] right there and then, and the wizard was standing close by. With her last breath she handed me the box and said in the flimsiest voice "This is his. Be good to him… give him to a good family… he's of good stock and one day… one day… her last breath came out as a low moan, and she died right there, still holding the baby in her arms.
Of course I took the box. A dying wish is sacred, isn’t it? The wizard picked up the baby and gave him to me. I went to find Miss Annabelle. She would know what to do. When she saw me, she came forward and took the baby, which was a relief, because he was all wet and smelly. I told her about the baby's mother and Miss Annabelle went to see the woman. She lay in a still spreading pool of scarlet, her face frozen in its agony. When Miss Annabelle was satisfied that the mother was indeed dead as I said, she wanted to know if the woman gave me anything money, perhaps a letter or a family heirloom by which the baby could be identified. I gave her the box and while handing it to her I saw that something was engraved on it. Couldn't read it [though, ‘cause it wasn’t] facing me.
Miss Annabelle went back to her chair, put the baby into it and opened the box. Out came a packet of letters tied with a pink ribbon, one gold dollar and a horseshoe. My horseshoe. I could identify it anywhere…
The wizard gave me a wink and disappeared. I [guess now I] knew why he went to all the trouble of bringing me to Wonderland.
What was my horseshoe doing in that box, you ask? I didn't know then, but I know now. That's why I said it was all big trouble… No, I'm not crying… why should I cry? I'm happy! Had an adventure… met the wizard… In my dream… went to wonderland… what did I get? Something nice? Something I wanted? No! Found who my bloody father was! Forget the name Horseshoe! It ain't mine. Kevin Love… written on the box… I don't want to be Kevin Love… That yellow crayon started it all! When I told Miss Annabelle about my dream, she went to her chest, got out a box. In it was a packet of letters tied with a pink ribbon which she handed to me and said, "This is your dream! Now go claim your heritage!"
What do you mean you don't believe me? You think I'm just a good for nothing boy who lives in a whorehouse? And what are these? And I handed him my father's letters, tied nicely with a pink ribbon.
I must have wanted all my life to find my true parents, and the most amazing thing was that I never realized it until that Listener said I was lying about who I really was.
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I hope you have a happy birthday, you twisted little... Oh, just kidding. Good story. Do you have a collection of the little gems? It does seem perfect for a small volume of short horror stories. I am glad I continued on (even though the Weeen Weeeen is still echoing through the darkest recesses of my mind because of you!)