White Rabbit
At 12:23, deep inside a rabbit hole where the earth smelled of roots and old secrets, $WR was born.
He arrived as if he’d been expected. Fur bright as paper, ears already listening for trouble. For a moment he lay still, and the darkness felt very polite, as though it were waiting for him to speak first.
Then... tick.
The sound seemed to come from everywhere at once. From the packed dirt. From the winding tunnel. From his own little heart, which was beating as if it had somewhere important to be.
The White Rabbit sat up at once.
“12:23,” he whispered, though he didn’t know why he knew it. The number sat in his mind like a rule.
He blinked, and suddenly he was certain of something else too: he was late.
Late for what? He hadn’t the faintest idea. But the feeling was so strong it made his whiskers tremble with urgency. It was the sort of lateness that doesn’t wait for reasons.
So he did the only sensible thing a newly-born rabbit could do in such a place: he ran.
He ran along the curve of the hole, paws tapping softly, ears slicing the dark. The tunnel twisted, dipped, and seemed to get longer just to see if he would panic. He did, of course, politely, efficiently, and at great speed.
As he ran, the rabbit hole changed its mind about being only a hole. It became a passage, a plunge, a riddle. Shadows stretched like question marks. The air grew thinner, then sweeter, then strange again.
The White Rabbit didn’t stop to notice. Stopping was exactly the sort of thing that makes you later.
And all the while, somewhere in the unseen machinery of the world, 12:23 kept ticking, following him, leading him, or perhaps laughing quietly behind its hand...
———
CAST:
$WR
https://pump.fun/coin/3ytGFg5hzEaqy3x5W4S3zoWhrkoRfgBN6R9tcUjypump
At 12:23, deep inside a rabbit hole where the earth smelled of roots and old secrets, $WR was born.
He arrived as if he’d been expected. Fur bright as paper, ears already listening for trouble. For a moment he lay still, and the darkness felt very polite, as though it were waiting for him to speak first.
Then... tick.
The sound seemed to come from everywhere at once. From the packed dirt. From the winding tunnel. From his own little heart, which was beating as if it had somewhere important to be.
The White Rabbit sat up at once.
“12:23,” he whispered, though he didn’t know why he knew it. The number sat in his mind like a rule.
He blinked, and suddenly he was certain of something else too: he was late.
Late for what? He hadn’t the faintest idea. But the feeling was so strong it made his whiskers tremble with urgency. It was the sort of lateness that doesn’t wait for reasons.
So he did the only sensible thing a newly-born rabbit could do in such a place: he ran.
He ran along the curve of the hole, paws tapping softly, ears slicing the dark. The tunnel twisted, dipped, and seemed to get longer just to see if he would panic. He did, of course, politely, efficiently, and at great speed.
As he ran, the rabbit hole changed its mind about being only a hole. It became a passage, a plunge, a riddle. Shadows stretched like question marks. The air grew thinner, then sweeter, then strange again.
The White Rabbit didn’t stop to notice. Stopping was exactly the sort of thing that makes you later.
And all the while, somewhere in the unseen machinery of the world, 12:23 kept ticking, following him, leading him, or perhaps laughing quietly behind its hand...
———
CAST:
$WR
https://pump.fun/coin/3ytGFg5hzEaqy3x5W4S3zoWhrkoRfgBN6R9tcUjypump
❤3🔥2
Ticking Through the Rabbit Hole
$WR ran until the tunnel stopped pretending to be polite and began to squeeze, roots brushing his fur like restless fingers.
Tick.
The sound came again. Small, certain, bossy. It didn’t hurry him. It commanded him.
The rabbit hole twisted, dipped, and changed its mind mid-curve, as if it were testing whether he could keep up. He could. He had no choice. Lateness made his legs clever.
Tock.
In the dirt he glimpsed faint marks. Little lines and dents in repeating patterns. Like instructions the earth had tried to write and then buried out of shyness. He didn’t stop to read. Stopping was how you lost time.
The tunnel suddenly straightened, which felt like a trick. The air turned crisp and metallic, like something wound too tight.
Tick.
Ahead, the darkness split into a seam. Deeper than the rest, like a door that didn’t want to admit it was a door. The whole passage leaned toward it, pulled by something unseen.
“12:23,” the White Rabbit whispered, and his heart answered with a faster knock.
Then he ran straight into the seam, chasing the time that chased him.
———
CAST:
$WR
https://pump.fun/coin/3ytGFg5hzEaqy3x5W4S3zoWhrkoRfgBN6R9tcUjypump
$WR ran until the tunnel stopped pretending to be polite and began to squeeze, roots brushing his fur like restless fingers.
Tick.
The sound came again. Small, certain, bossy. It didn’t hurry him. It commanded him.
The rabbit hole twisted, dipped, and changed its mind mid-curve, as if it were testing whether he could keep up. He could. He had no choice. Lateness made his legs clever.
Tock.
In the dirt he glimpsed faint marks. Little lines and dents in repeating patterns. Like instructions the earth had tried to write and then buried out of shyness. He didn’t stop to read. Stopping was how you lost time.
The tunnel suddenly straightened, which felt like a trick. The air turned crisp and metallic, like something wound too tight.
Tick.
Ahead, the darkness split into a seam. Deeper than the rest, like a door that didn’t want to admit it was a door. The whole passage leaned toward it, pulled by something unseen.
“12:23,” the White Rabbit whispered, and his heart answered with a faster knock.
Then he ran straight into the seam, chasing the time that chased him.
———
CAST:
$WR
https://pump.fun/coin/3ytGFg5hzEaqy3x5W4S3zoWhrkoRfgBN6R9tcUjypump
❤1
Seam out to the Forest
$WR made it to the seam but the seam didn’t open like a door.
It opened like a breath.
Cold, leafy air spilled out, and the White Rabbit burst through; out of dirt-darkness and into a forest that felt awake. Moss cushioned his paws. Branches leaned in as he passed, curious as gossip.
Tick.
The sound wasn’t behind him anymore. It was ahead. Small. Certain. Bossy.
He ran between thin trunks marked with pale, repeating lines, as if the trees had been scribbled on by something that didn’t want to be caught writing.
Tock.
Then the forest widened into a clearing.
Tick.
In the center stood a stone pedestal, slick with damp, and on it sat something: a sharp, perfect glint.
Tock.
A shiny gold object, half-hidden in the moss, as if the forest had dropped it there and forgotten to look away...
———
CAST:
$WR
https://pump.fun/coin/3ytGFg5hzEaqy3x5W4S3zoWhrkoRfgBN6R9tcUjypump
$WR made it to the seam but the seam didn’t open like a door.
It opened like a breath.
Cold, leafy air spilled out, and the White Rabbit burst through; out of dirt-darkness and into a forest that felt awake. Moss cushioned his paws. Branches leaned in as he passed, curious as gossip.
Tick.
The sound wasn’t behind him anymore. It was ahead. Small. Certain. Bossy.
He ran between thin trunks marked with pale, repeating lines, as if the trees had been scribbled on by something that didn’t want to be caught writing.
Tock.
Then the forest widened into a clearing.
Tick.
In the center stood a stone pedestal, slick with damp, and on it sat something: a sharp, perfect glint.
Tock.
A shiny gold object, half-hidden in the moss, as if the forest had dropped it there and forgotten to look away...
———
CAST:
$WR
https://pump.fun/coin/3ytGFg5hzEaqy3x5W4S3zoWhrkoRfgBN6R9tcUjypump