Wonderland?

One foot in front of the other.

“That’s right, you must jump.”

Terror grips me. I am so far off the ship, and so far down the plank. There is no turning back, so I jumped.

But I do not hit water. I hit air. Cold, black air. An endless tunnel with operatic voices surrounding me with their music. And after many moments, I fall like shattered glass onto none other than a large bundle of petals. I am tiny, apparently.

“Is this…wonderland?” I venture.

“But of course not,” a large alpaca says, grazing on umbrellas stalks, “you’re in Kansas.”