Shadows of the Emerald City

by J. W. Schnarr

  “I don’t understand,” Torin pleaded. “I never called you…”

  His words ended in a scream of agony as Orpah raked her nails across the Mayor’s face. Blood oozed from four deep scratches on his left cheek.

  “You watch!” she screamed. “You watch what you’re foolish letter has done!”

  Orpah grabbed him by the head and forced him to watch as her giants slammed their huge fists again the tiny cottage. It splintered in a thousand pieces, collapsing upon itself and the helpless Munchkins inside. But their work was far from done. The brutes tossed the devastated lumber aside, revealing an attractive young couple that had been in the throes of passion before their lovemaking was forever interrupted.

  “Please don’t hurt us,” said the girl as she tried to cover her half-nakedness. One of the giants grabbed her by the hair and lifted her off the ground. Her lover made a desperate leap for her, but another giant kicked him hard, crushing his sternum and sending him flying into a nearby apple cart. Fruit was scattered everywhere as the boy breathed his last.

  The girl screamed as she watched her lover die. But her grief quickly turned to horror. The Wicked Witch of the East pointed at the girl and said “Kreon!” A bolt of lighting shot from Orpah’s finger. It arced across the town square and hit the girl directly between her small breasts. A moment later, a blackened, unrecognizable form hit the ground with a thud.

  “Now,” said Orpah to the Mayor, “do I have your attention?”

  Torin was nodding stupidly when General Vapid and Puck suddenly charged out of their alley.

  “Attack!” Vapid ordered. He was pointing his spear at Orpah and shrieking a blood-curdling battle cry. Puck was a few steps behind him, holding a short sword by the blade and swinging the handle recklessly at no one in particular.

  The element of surprise was almost enough to win the day and forever change the political landscape in the Land of Oz. But Orpah reacted quickly and used her magical silver slippers to fly across the square and evade the attack. Vapid was now standing amidst the four giants. He lifted his spear and plunged it into the thigh of one the brutes. The giant yelped in pain, and was quickly set upon by three more scarecrows. They hacked him with their swords and axes, spraying his blood all over place. The giant collapsed face first to the bricks. He was dead.

  Another giant, the largest of the bunch, took a step toward his comrade. The scarecrow army set upon him as well, and he soon joined his friend in death.

  Nearby, Mayor Torin suddenly realized that he was free. Not only that, this mysterious army of straw men actually appeared to be winning. Torin smiled, hoping that the enslavement of his people had finally come to an end.

  Unfortunately, this hopeful future was cut tragically short when Orpah shouted “Flamack!” and a fireball exploded on the town square. Three scarecrows, the bodies of the half-naked lovers and Mayor Torin were all instantly consumed.

  Puck, the stupidest of all the brainless scarecrow army, somehow managed not to be incinerated by Orpah’s fireball. He was several feet outside the blast radius, attacking a giant with the hilt of his short sword, when the brute snatched him up like a sack of hay (which he essentially was) and tore him in half. The remains of Puck’s body were tossed in a water trough and forgotten.

  Battle raged across Munchkinville. Several structures were destroyed when the scarecrows took down the dark-haired giant that was responsible for the death of Cordelia Plumly. His legs were cut out from under him, and when he fell, he took down a bell tower–the tallest structure in town. This tower collapsed onto the Mayor’s house, leveling it.

  Seeing her escorts defeated so soundly, Orpah began to wonder if her own safety was in jeopardy. She considered escaping–the silver slippers would return her to her castle in three jumps if she wished–but decided against it.

  “I’ll make an example of this town,” she muttered under her breath. Grinning cruelly, the Wicked Witch of the East began hurling fireballs in every direction. One by one, the scarecrows burst into flames. They stumbled frantically about the village, spreading destruction from house to house and shop to shop. Within minutes, the entire town was burning.

  Munchkinville was doomed.

  The land surrounding the castle of the Wicked Witch of the East was unlike anything Robin had ever seen. It was twisted and scarred with blackened trees and stagnant bodies of water. Orpah’s castle was a terrifying golgotha amidst all this ruin. The structure actually looked like a skull, with the nose and eye sockets serving as windows, and the open mouth as the front door.

  “What kind of crazy, evil bitch,” Robin said to himself, “would want to live in a place like this?” Fear nearly paralyzed the Munchkin as Steinbeck began his slow descent. What if the witch is still inside? If so, then I will surely die. And if she’s left her guards behind? On my flesh they’ll surely dine.

  It was only the horrible realization that he was actually thinking in Poesy that caused Robin to slide off the Pigasus the moment that the creature landed. He heard something crunch beneath his foot, and when Robin looked down, he realized he had stepped on a skeleton. The bones were gray with soot, but they were unmistakable–this was the body of a Munchkin child.

  Rage flushed whatever fear remained from Robin’s nervous system. His little girl was inside that awful place, and he was determined to rescue her or die trying. Either way, his fate lay beyond the grinning teeth of the witch’s castle.

  “Stay here,” Robin said. He knelt beside Steinbeck and patted the animal on top of its bristly head. The Pigasus stared up at him with troubled black eyes and whimpered.

  “I’ll just be a few minutes,” Robin said. “Just long enough to find my daughter.” The Munchkin stood, faced the castle, and walked right up to the front door.

  As he approached the door, Robin noticed a lion-headed doorknocker. He had to stretch to reach the huge, metal ring in the lion’s mouth, and Robin was tall for a Munchkin. He slammed the ring against the door only once, and immediately a small opening appeared in the door. A green-skinned, pointed-nosed goblin peered through the opening.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” the creature demanded.

  “My name is Robin Plumly,” Robin said, “and I’ve come to rescue my daughter.”

  A smile spread on the goblin’s ugly face.

  “You can’t…”

  Robin’s hand shot out like a crossbow bolt. He grabbed the goblin by the nose and twisted. The creature squealed in pain as Robin began to pull him face-first through the tiny hole in the door. “Let me in,” he ordered, “or I swear I’ll tear your nose right off.”

  “I can’t,” the goblin shrieked. “She’ll kill me.”

  “I’ll kill you.”

  Several moments passed like this before the goblin finally conceded and allowed Robin into the castle. The door swung open slowly, the hinges screaming in protest, and finally revealed a large open foyer lit by a hanging chandelier. A treacherous staircase wound along the back of the foyer, and the walls were covered with expensive, if dusty, tapestries depicting famous historical and political figures in compromising positions. The tapestry closest to Robin featured Princess Langwidere of Ev performing fellatio on the Nome King. The Munchkin had little time to ponder the many levels on which this offended him, however, because the goblin stepped in front of him, and blocked his entrance. He was wielding a small cudgel in his right and smacking it threateningly into his left.

  “You wanna try that again?” the goblin asked.

  It was at this moment that it occurred to Robin that perhaps he should have brought a sword or gun or some other weapon along on this mission. Up until that point, he considered his fists and his anger enough to ensure victory, but now he was wondering how he could have been so stupid. His only hope was the element of surprise.

  Robin lunged forward, taking a single stinging blow from the goblin’s cudgel before the fight turned into what every fight eventually turns into–a wrestling match. Robin finally gained the upper han
d by slipping a finger into each of the goblin’s nostrils and pulling with all his might. There was a sickening pop as the creature’s cartilage tore away, leaving its nose hanging between its eyes by only a small flap of skin. The goblin screamed in pain and fury as blood pumped into its mouth.

  Robin grabbed the goblin’s cudgel, slipped behind the creature, and ended its miserable life with a single blow to the back of its head. It yelped one last time and then fell forward on its face.

  When no other guards came running, Robin moved to the stairs at the back of the room. His heart was racing, and somehow he knew that Dot was still alive and that he was going to see her again. Taking the stairs two at a time Robin noted the chain that allowed the chandelier to be raised and lowered. It was held in place by a single bent nail.

  At the top of the stairs was a door, and beyond that, a large room lit by two circular windows. The eyes of the skull, Robin realized. He glanced around the room and found it strikingly similar to the lair of the Crooked Wizard. Dusty bookshelves dominated the room from floor to ceiling, and in fact actually seemed to be holding up the roof in places. Several tables covered with yellowing papers were pushed together near the left wall. In the center of the room hanging from the rafters were five Munchkin-sized cages.

  “Dot!” Robin dropped the cudgel and rushed across the room. Immediately he examined the cages. The children inside were naked and filthy–they’d been sitting in their own excrement for days. They stared at him with wide, vacant eyes. Unfeeling eyes.

  Robin’s stomach turned. He leaned forward and vomited on the wooden floor. His knees buckled.

  Dot.

  Robin scrambled to his feet and pushed his way through the cages. He tried to ignore the horrible site before him as she search for his little girl. The nausea hit him again when he found her.

  Dot was dead.

  A sound like a scream ripped through the castle; it was the hinges on the door downstairs. The witch, Robin thought frantically. Orpah has returned.

  Acting on pure instinct Robin ripped open the cage door that held Dot’s body. He scooped her stiff form under his left arm and raced toward the stairs. Perhaps he could escape the castle.

  If I can make it back to the Crooked Wizard, Robin thought, then maybe he can use the Powder of Life on Dot.

  He was halfway down the stairs when he saw the Wicked Witch of the East. She knelt in the middle of the room, cradling the goblin’s body in her arms. Her shoulders hunched forward and back as sobs wracked her lithe frame. Orpah looked up when she heard Robin on the stairs. Black lines of mascara streaked her face, and she looked like a demon bent on destruction.

  “You!” she shouted. “You murdered him. You did this.” Orpah stood holding the goblin’s body before her like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold. Her eyes began to glow as she chanted something under her breath in the language of magic.

  Robin, cradling his own lost child to his breast, realized two things at that moment. Orpah was standing directly underneath the chandelier, and he was standing right beside the lowering chain. The Munchkin shifted Dot’s body, and with his free hand, he plucked the chain off the bent nail.

  Orpah was glowing all over when the chandelier crashed down on top of her. She collapsed under its weight. Her black robes instantly burst into flame when they came in contact with the still-burning candles. Her screams filled the castle, and Robin smiled for the first time in weeks when he walked calmly past her flailing body.

  Steinbeck was waiting outside. Whether he hid when Orpah returned or if the witch simply ignored him, Robin could not say. He climbed on the animal’s back, positioned Dot’s body between his legs, and nudged the Pigasus into flight.

  As much as Robin Plumly hoped that his story would end with everyone living happily ever after, that is sadly not the case. He returned to the cave of the Crooked Wizard and begged the old man to bring Dot back to life.

  “I won’t do it,” the wizard insisted. “Wasn’t part of our original bargain.”

  At this point, Robin held a dagger to his own chest, the tip pressed right over his heart.

  “If you don’t,” he said, “I’ll deny you the thing you hold most dear.” There was an eerie calm in Robin’s voice, and the Crooked Wizard was convinced he wasn’t bluffing. Fifteen minutes later, Dot came screaming back to life.

  Robin held her close, crushing his child against his chest.

  “I love you,” he whispered. “I missed you so much.” Dot closed her eyes and nuzzled against her father’s neck.

  Unfortunately, the happy ending lasted for only about thirty minutes. That’s when the Crooked Wizard stood up, checked his pocket watch, and stomped over to the corner of the cave where father and daughter were hugging and snuggling and weeping heartbreaking tears of regret.

  “It’s time,” the old man insisted. “Take her through the portal and come on back.”

  Robin considered breaking his agreement with the Crooked Wizard, but deep down he knew that this was Dot’s only hope of ever escaping the Wicked Witch of the East. Orpah would come for her; it was only a matter of time. So he stood, stared at the dusty mirror for a moment, and then stepped through into another world.

  It was a flat, gray country on the other side of the mirror. Not a tree broke the broad sweep of flat country that reached to the edge of the sky in all directions. Only a single house could be seen, and it was upon the doorstep of this house that Robin left his sweet little innocent Dot, swaddled in an old gray blanket and asleep in an apple crate. He left a short note that read: This is my daughter, Dorothy. Please take care of her.

  It occurred to Robin that he might also remain in that gray land and escape his bargain. But the thought of a lifetime fleeing not only Orpah, but the Crooked Wizard as well caused Robin to reconsider this course. Dot was better off without him. Resigned to his fate, Robin returned through the portal to find the Crooked Wizard waiting for him.

  The old man’s hand darted from the folds of his cloak, and before Robin could move there was a wet cloth over his nose and mouth. He struggled against the wizard, he struggled to breathe, but his vision blurred with each breath, and his sinuses were burning.

  Robin dropped to his knees. He tried to rise but it was no use. The old man guided him to the floor, placing his head gently upon the cold stone. Robin closed his eyes.

  Many miles away, a single soul stirred amongst the smoldering ruins of Munchkinville. It was Sheriff Rozzco, who had buried himself deep inside his corncrib when Orpah decimated the village. Every man, woman and child in Munchkinville (save Rozzco of course) was dead. The sheriff, ex-sheriff, stumbled through the charred bones of his form jurisdiction. He wept openly, wishing that he could have been brave enough to die with his people.

  Finally, Rozzco came to an overturned water trough where he discovered the remains of one of the scarecrows that defended the town. He picked up the straw man’s head and was amazed when the thing began to speak.

  “Excuse me,” said the face on the burlap sack, “but I believe that if you stuff my clothes full of straw, I’ll be able to function again.”

  Rozzco looked down and saw the still-damp suit of blue clothes to which the scarecrow was referring. After a moment’s consideration, the sheriff gathered the clothes together. Most of the straw was gone, burned up in the witch’s fire, but he was certain he could find some along the way. This was the Land of Oz, after all, a place that was full of magic and crows. Before long, Rozzco and the scarecrow were headed for the next town, following the path of the Yellow Brick Road.

  You know the rest of the story right? Rozzco settled in a town called Munchkinburg, where he set up a small farm. His fields were kept safe from crows by a certain talking scarecrow. The Crooked Wizard and his Powder of Life went on to be involved in several adventures. And Dot? She became the most famous adventurer of all. She grew up in that strange gray country, but eventually returned to the Land of Oz and killed the Wicked Witch of the East by dropping a house on her
. She never saw her father again, however, because Robin Plumly died on the operating table just minutes after the Crooked Wizard extracted his heart.

  Robin’s name was vilified in the Munchkin newspapers. They claimed he was responsible for what Orpah did in Munchkinville. And perhaps he was, who can say? But in a way, he was also responsible for the death of the Wicked Witch of the East and the redemption of Munchkinland. Either way, hero or villain, the story of Robin Plumly is done.

  The End.

  Mr. Yoop’s Soup

  by Michael D. Turner

  King Gob Ghab was worried. Normally being King of the Munchkins was quite a pleasant job. He got to wear fine clothes with fancy buttons and excellent boots that were made just for him, instead of being picked from a tree like everyone else’s. He got to wear a crown.

  His was a particularly nice one, a gift from the emperor of the Winkies, made of light and shiny tin with delicate gold-foil flowers tastefully decorated with thimble-sized sapphires. True, he had to sit in his court and settle any disputes his Munchkins brought to him, but his people were by-and-large a peaceful, settled folk, so he only had to do that an hour or so every other week. The rest was just making speeches at holiday festivals and having dinners with important Munchkin citizens. Not today though. Today was one unusual thing after another.

  The first thing was a mysterious hole in Mob Cobi’s roof, accompanied by the disappearance of his prize cleaver. Mob Cobi was Munchkin City’s most popular (and only) butcher, and the cleaver—an enormous two-handed affair that dated back before the time of the witches, had not been used in many years. Instead it had hung on a stout wooden peg above Mob Cobi’s counter. Today the peg was still there but the cleaver had disappeared…apparently through a hole torn in the shop’s roof!