+ some wonderlands are kind

When everyone went to sleep on the third, the Mansion was still overrun by the Garden. Flowers and plants and thorns were in every corner and crack and nonsensical insects took up residence in every room. There was hardly any room left for the residents, even those who no longer remembered who they were or where they came from.

But on the fourth, it's all gone. Flowers, insects, forgetfulness, all of it. The only thing that's left to attest to the last week's activity is a humongous chrysalis in the entrance hall, stretching from floor to ceiling and half blocking the front door.

It remains inert for most of the the day, but toward evening, it begins to twitch, as though with some monstrous creature trying to get out.

Just as the sun finishes going down, it explodes open and hundreds of thousands of butterflies pour out. They swirl around the entrance hall for a bit and then seek egress through the (magically) open front door.



In a broad column, they take to the darkening sky, and just as they reach it, each one erupts in a shower of colored sparks. It takes some time for each of these living fireworks to die its spectacular death.

When they do, quiet falls again. Wonderland, including its garden, is back to normal. It's safe to walk around now, to speak to any creature you please; none of them will talk back.

Don't feel too relieved, though. Remember what they told you: they've always been here. Just because they didn't talk doesn't mean they couldn't.

They're just resting, that's all. They'll be back. And they hope you'll still be here when they come.