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Alice in Tartaria
Alice in the Magical Square of Tartaria
Ballykillduff is a village that thinks quietly.
Lanes hesitate. Grass leans when it should not. Things happen just slightly to the side of where they are supposed to be. Alice has lived there long enough to know this, and just long enough not to question it.
So when a crease appears in the air behind the Old Creamery, and a place called Tartaria slips sideways into existence, Alice is the only one who notices — and the only one who understands that some places survive by being remembered badly.
Tartaria is a civilisation that vanished by behaving too well. Now it endures in a state of almost compound memory: misremembered, misfiled, and dangerously unfinished. Maps argue. Councils disagree. Scholars from Outside begin asking sensible questions — the most dangerous kind of all.
As Alice moves between Ballykillduff and Tartaria, she discovers that memory is not passive, certainty is a trap, and being understood may be far worse than being forgotten. Worse still, Tartaria begins to misremember her.
To save both worlds, Alice must learn how to remember wrongly on purpose — without doing it too well.
Alice in Ballykillduff and the Almost-Remembered Tartaria is a whimsical, quietly unsettling fantasy in the tradition of Lewis Carroll: a story about places that think, truths that refuse to settle, and the peculiar courage it takes to remain unfinished.
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Sluggy, the Slug
To a creature only two inches long, a backyard isn’t just a yard—it’s a continent. For Sluggy, a lime-green gastropod with a thirst for adventure and a silver trail of ambition, the edge of the patio was the edge of the known world.
The Great Concrete Desert
Sluggy began his journey at dawn, while the dew still clung to the hostas like liquid diamonds. His goal: The Great Wooden Gate, a towering monolith that promised a world beyond the rosebushes.
The first obstacle was the Patio. To a slug, sun-baked stone is a treacherous wasteland.
- The Risk: Drying out before reaching the shade.
- The Strategy: Constant production of high-grade slime.
- The Close Call: A giant, rubber-soled “Human Boot” thundered down inches from his eyestalks, vibrating the very earth.
Sluggy didn’t retreat. He tucked his stalks, waited for the earthquake to pass, and soldiered on.
The Jungle of Long Grass
Beyond the patio lay the Unmown Realm. Here, the blades of grass were like emerald skyscrapers swaying in the wind.
Sluggy met a Cricket named Kip, who was tuning his legs for the evening performance.
“You’re going to the Outside?” Kip chirped, incredulous. “It takes me three jumps to reach the gate. It’ll take you… well, a lifetime.”
“It’s not about the speed,” Sluggy replied with a rhythmic ripple of his foot. “It’s about the detail. I bet you’ve never seen the patterns on the underside of a dandelion leaf.”
The Summit of the Threshold
By sunset, Sluggy reached the base of the gate. He didn’t go under it; he chose to go over. The climb was vertical and grueling. Every inch was a battle against gravity, his body glistening under the rising moon.
As he reached the top of the wooden slat, the world finally opened up. He didn’t see a backyard anymore. He saw:
- The Black River: A shimmering asphalt road stretching to infinity.
- The Fireflies of the Sky: Distant streetlamps and stars that mirrored his own silver trail.
- The Unknown: A forest of oaks across the street, whispering secrets in the breeze.
The Horizon Awaits
Sluggy looked back at his garden—a small, safe circle of green. Then he looked forward. He was the first of his kind to reach the Summit of the Gate. He wasn’t just a slug; he was an explorer.
With a slow, deliberate tilt of his head, he began his descent into the new world. He had nowhere to be, and all the time in the universe to get there.
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The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 