The Wrong Rabbit Hole (Alice in the Darkness)

This story should never have been told.

It was meant to stay buried, hidden among children's fables and nursery rhymes, safe behind painted illustrations and whispered lullabies.

Wonderland was always a lie.

It was never a dream.

It was a trap.

And now, thanks to me, Aryn Bats, you hold the proof in your hands.

What you are about to read is not a fairy tale.

It is a dissection.

A peeling back of bright colours to reveal the rotting muscle beneath.

Every smiling face you remember has been carved into something else. Something hungry. Something waiting.

Alice was not supposed to follow the rabbit.

She was not supposed to see the roots beneath the oak tree, where a dozen holes yawned like open graves.

But she did.

And she chose wrong.

Through these first pages, you will hear the scrape of her nails on stone as she falls. The tearing of her dress on jagged rock. The sharp sting of copper in her lungs when she lands.

The rabbit waits below, its watch beating like a second heart beneath its skinless chest.

Deeper in, you will meet the hosts of this nightmare.

The Hatter's table is set, but his porcelain cups are filled with blood, and his hat is stitched from screaming faces.

The Cheshire Cat's grin glows in the dark, stretching wider until gums split and glass teeth rain down.

The Tweedle Twins laugh as their cleavers rise, finishing each other's sentences with each slice of meat.

And in the throne room, the Queen of Hearts waits, her gown sewn from hides, her barbed crown dripping, her audience a sea of headless bodies propped upright.

These pages are not safe.

They will not comfort you.

They will not give you Wonderland back.

They will strip it from you, leaving only the raw bones of a world where Alice should never have gone.

You can close this book now.

You can set it aside and pretend you never opened it.

But if you turn the next page, you take the same step Alice took.

Down into the dark.

Down into the wrong rabbit hole.

And once you begin...

There is no way out.

Aryn Bats is a Canadian author of horror, psychological thrillers, serial killer crime fiction, dark gothic fantasy epics, and relentless suspense. He also created his own Genre to fit his work perfectly, Psychogothic Fantasy.

A self-publishing indie writer, Aryn began releasing work publicly at age 48, though the passion for storytelling started at sixteen. After decades working in the trades, a severe back injury and long recovery shifted the course of his life. When the depression lifted following successful spine surgery, the urge to write returned stronger than ever.

In 2024, Bats dusted off an old manuscript written as a teenager, expanded it into a full saga, and has not stopped since.

Known for twisted serial-killer crime sagas like Grey Kong, Bah Bah Blacksheep, and Cry Little Sister, as well as Dark Fantasy Epics such as Brackengloom, and Brackenflare.

Also atmospheric stand-alone horrors such as Eye-Spy, 1313, Bloodmaw Wastes.

Bats blends psychological depth with dark, immersive, lyrical storytelling.

Readers who enjoy the unsettling tension of Stephen King, the psychological sharpness of Gillian Flynn, or the stylized darkness of shows like Hannibal, Dexter and Mindhunter will find a familiar chill in Aryn's work.

Bats has more than 20 new stories in development... proof that sometimes a second chance at life ignites a fiercer voice than the first.