Dorothy: The Darker Side of OZ v5

by Scott Stanford

  Dorothy stays silent as Scarecrow invites the tin-man to join them, sceptical of the added company at first, though sure he’ll be strong enough to help if Outika finds her. She knows she needs strength on her side, and although she feels sly she can’t afford to tell the tin-man that Outika may come, so she simply agrees, ‘Yes, please join us.’

  Sure that with a heart he’d be able to find his love again, and hearing through the land how powerful the wizard is, the tin-man accepts. So preparing to leave he takes a fresh can of oil from the small hut, and Dorothy offers to keep it in her wicker basket for him. The scarecrow pads his hands with straw, sewing the flesh back together as the tin-man sharpens his axe, handing the newly fixed Scarecrow a pitchfork. ‘Here you may need this,’ he indicates, and the scarecrow takes it in his hand, waving it as he watches the thin spikes cut through the air, cheering, ‘This looks fun, but why do I need it?’ The tin-man looks at him confused, taking a firm grip on his axe as he groans, ‘The forest can be deadly, and the carnival’s in town don’t you know?’ to which the scarecrow smiles, ‘I don’t know much, I have no brain.’

  Walking through the thick woods, again Dorothy nurses Toto’s bag, feeling him inside as she holds the wicker basket with the other hand. The scarecrow clenches his pitchfork proudly, swinging it in the air as he walks in front of the others, unaware of their conversation as Dorothy tells the tin-man of Avatonika’s death. He seems unfazed at first, only giving the word, ‘Good,’ with no happiness, not even as he notices the silver boots on Dorothy’s feet as he comments, ‘She was proud of them.’ Suddenly realising the pieces don’t fit, her head so wrapped up in the tin-man’s story the young girl asks, ‘How were you rusted outside?’ as an image of the dead munchkin flashes to her, and the tin-man groans:

  ‘One day in the heavy rain I went outside to chop wood, and as they always do the witch’s munchkins crept into my yard. They would steal my wood, hide bear traps in the grass and taunt me, though last time they attacked me and I couldn’t fend them off quick enough. One munchkin stole a can of oil I had nearby and they fought me as my joints started to rust in the strong downpour. I was lucky that my pets attacked them, scared them away.’

  ‘We saw a munchkin in your yard, dead,’ Dorothy struggles to say as the tin-man groans, almost with a painful smile as he chars, ‘At least not all of them got away, must be why they never came back.’

  Turning around the scarecrow interrupts, ‘You made those flying things?’ as the tin-man answers, sure he should feel sadness:

  ‘With no heart I didn’t have the strength to continue building my love’s house anymore, and alone I needed company so I made tin birds, then insects, small creatures that Avatonika wouldn’t find.’

  Impressed at the tin-man’s talent Dorothy looks amazed, though Scarecrow points at him with one hand saying, ‘Shouldn’t make things with wings,’ before walking in front again, trying to swipe at flying insects with his pitchfork. The tin-man watches him curiously and thinks of the insects he crushes, wondering for a second if he should be killing the small innocent creatures. Dorothy smiles at the scarecrow awkwardly then looks back at the tin-man as he effortlessly carries his heavy axe, telling him of her journey so far, and her hopes to get back to Kansas. As she tries to trigger some sympathy from him the only thing she receives is a processed, ‘As you have helped me I shall make sure you get to the wizard safely.’ Smiling slightly Dorothy finds comfort in her new friends, though feels scared at the thought of what they’re both capable of; one a heartless metal monster, and the other found unusually crucified, his insides removed. Still she wants to trust them, feels she offers at least the scarecrow that after what he had done for her so far. Sighing with guilt she hates not telling them both that Outika may come for them, though she can’t risk frightening them away, not if it means she may never get back home.

  Walking along the yellow road their stride is strong as Dorothy drifts deep into thought, and Scarecrow dances peculiarly whilst the tin-man asks, ‘Do you feel lonely if you don’t have a brain?’ to which he replies ‘I’m not sure, maybe.’ Their attention not on the road they fail to hear the large black wheels turning behind them as a wagon charges forward. Drawn by a dirty grey buffalo the wagon’s large main’s a deep red, and frame a rough black as speeding toward the three it goes un-noticed at first. With the sound closer, no more than several feet away the wheels grind along the yellow bricks as the tin-man turns, grabbing at Dorothy as they dive into the grass, calling to Scarecrow. Turning, his eyes widen and he moves his gangly body quickly, as tall as the wagon as he steps onto the verge to wave as it passes by. Thinking it must have been so silent in its approach Dorothy looks up to the wagon, its shape baroque as she looks into the back window to see several odd creatures laughing. Angry and shocked she asks, ‘What was that?’ as the tin-man stands, shifting his large body as he looks with a stern glare, ‘The carnival, it must be tonight. It’s the only reason creatures like that come to these parts.’ Dorothy looks at him concerned, thinking of the cloaked man she met when first on the yellow road, and the creature in the spring as she asks worriedly, ‘What happens at the carnival?’

  ‘It travels through Oz with the gypsies. On the surface it’s harmless, but underneath it’s…you’ll see,’ the tin-man alludes, as Dorothy shudders, ‘I don’t understand.’ Lifting his axe the metal monster rests it sturdily on a shoulder, looking down at the young girl as he groans, ‘Just be careful, the yellow road will pass through it.’

  TIN-MAN

  12

  Walking along the road again, the tin-man chops at the tree branches in their path to hear them shrill then recede. At first there were thick chunks of wood; fallen trees in their way as the tin-man took an effortless swing to split them open, throwing them back into the woods. Though now with no obstacles he still swings his axe occasionally, tearing away the flesh of the branches, cutting them to the ground as their sap drips over the bricks. Watching him chop away, almost as if he enjoys it Dorothy asks, ‘Why are you still cutting at the branches?’ to which he cuts at another to watch it wriggle on the floor. ‘I’m a woodsman,’ he says, and the girl continues, ‘What do you know about the trees? They attacked me.’ Staring straight ahead at the forest in front of him he answers without looking her in the eye, ‘They’re carnivores; they bleed their prey to nourish their roots. Anything warm blooded.’

  Swallowing back mild panic, thinking what could have happened to her if the scarecrow didn’t come to her rescue sooner Dorothy stutters, ‘Wh… why haven’t they attacked me again?’

  ‘Like any species some are more intelligent than others. The stronger predators will wait until nightfall, to feed on the weak and wounded unexpectedly in darkness. That’s why they try to block out the light of the sky. Others will try to tempt you to them or hang their braches on common paths, hoping for an effortless meal.’

  With a stressed sigh Dorothy looks out to the trees, crooked and twisted, now realizing their intention as something comes to her. The tin-man is no regular woodsman like in her own world, he doesn’t simply chop down trees, he hacks away at their living timber, killing them and peeling away the meat like a butcher would. Watching the scarecrow still swiping at insects, crushing their wings as they fall to the ground Dorothy realises that she’s stopped standing on them, putting them out of their misery hours ago. With nightfall soon approaching she looks through the small cracks in the trees to see the fading sun, ready to hide as she thinks of the darkness and the hungry wood. Turning her attention to the road for a second Dorothy looks to the yellow bricks as thin black ooze trails along the cracks, the same substance she found on the road when she first started her journey, but now it grows thicker.

  Turning a corner the three follow the road as it bends, curving as they look ahead of them to see an obstacle blocking their path. The scarecrow walks ahead curiously, squinting his worn button eyes as he looks down to the ditch, it’s neither large nor deep but the tin-man warns the scarecrow not to
get too close.

  Moving toward it with a slow curious step Dorothy looks down to see the trees roots, slithering and overlapping like a casket of snakes as they stretch as high as they can. Wriggling with long thin teeth stretched across their tips Dorothy pulls back and the scarecrow looks to the side of the road. Pointing at a path almost hidden amongst the tightly pressed trees he sees the wagons tracks. ‘We can go that way!’ he voices, but Dorothy quickly corrects, ‘No, we have to stay on the path,’ as the tin-man looks to the pit, groaning, ‘Very well, but we have to be careful.’

  Scratching his head with a pointed finger the scarecrow asks, ‘Hooowww?’ with his mouth stretched as the tin-man looks to a dead tree, thinking that he could make a bridge. Unsure if it will give the roots more chance of getting their prey he hears Dorothy ask, ‘Can’t we just jump?’ as she looks to the pit. Asking her, ‘Do you think you can?’ she nods at the tin-man, remembering her P.E classes as she watches the scarecrow bob like a broken doll with, ‘I think I can I think I can,’ as the tin-man asks him the same question. Preparing themselves the tin-man tells Dorothy to jump first as the roots won’t have time to react, and she quietly mouths, ‘Okay,’ with a deep breath. Looking to the obstacle, remembering what the trees did to her last time she’s sure that even with her friends helping her they won’t be able to save her if she falls in.

  Trying not to think she runs, not giving herself a chance to change her mind as her boots clunk at the ground and she jumps in the air. Gritting her teeth and clenching every muscle in her body she crashes to the other side, her body sliding along the yellow bricks as she gasps for air, winding herself. Next, the scarecrow runs without thought, his light bony body pushing through the air as he looks down at the pit, watching the roots as he lands on the other side and helps Dorothy from the ground.

  Looking at the two of them safely at the other side, the tin-man grabs tightly to his axe and throws it across, shattering yellow bricks as it lands, and he looks to see the roots calmly rising. Running to the pit he leaps at the last minute to feel the weight of his heavy body fasten as he looks under his feet to see the roots, trying to reach for him as they stretch and flail their teeth. Ready to feel the impact of the ground he lands on his feet, barely making it across as his left leg stands on the edge of the pit, and cracked stone falls to the vines. Trying to pull his body forward he quickly feels the pressure of a root at his tin back, as two more spring like tentacles and wrap around his left arm. With her eyes keen Dorothy quickly snatches the pitchfork out of the scarecrow’s hands, knowing she wouldn’t be able to lift the tin-man’s axe as she stabs at the roots. Piercing their skin with metal spikes they shrill quietly and tense their grip, causing the tin-man to pull away harder as he feels the warm blood pouring from his joints and roars a howling scream. Forcing himself away from the pit his heavy body stretches the roots as their flesh starts to tear. One lets go quickly, shrivelling back as the tin-man rips the others from the ground, watching them wriggle on the floor as he hears a tree groan behind him. Falling to one knee the tin-man looks at his arm, moving it easily and ignoring the blood as he hears Dorothy ask, ‘Are you okay?’ but he listens past her voice to hear a curdling war cry. They’ve awakened a Kalidah.

  Shouting, ‘Move now, run!’ the tin-man grabs at his axe and jolts quickly as the others follow with speed, hearing the beast. The young girl shouts, ‘What’s wrong?’ and he cries, ’Kalidahs! No time, we need to run, find shelter!’ Hearing only its roar Dorothy looks behind them to see nothing at first, only the woods and the yellow road as suddenly bursting through the dead trees a colossal beast stands.

  Even taller than the scarecrow it roars, its thick body skinned of flesh, shaped like a bear with the head of a tiger as its long forked tongue slashes. Turning her head Dorothy runs as fast as she can, screaming obscenities to herself as the scarecrow looks back, staring at its large yellow eyes, and claws a foot long as he smiles, ‘How strange!’ Shouting to make him move faster the tin-man watches as he picks up speed, his long legs quickening as he runs alongside Dorothy.

  With no shelter to be seen ahead the three still run for their lives, though the tin-man soon falls behind, his weight heavy to carry and too slow to out run the Kalidah as he turns his head briefly, watching the creature jump over the pit as the roots whip around its leg. Screaming and tearing away their limbs like worms from soil it doesn’t stop, its hungry teeth glare and the eyes of a hunter lock on fiercely.

  Knowing he won’t be able to run much further without the creature catching him, the tin-man slows his legs as the metal grates along yellow stone, and he stands still. Ahead of him Dorothy still runs, her heart racing as she turns to see the tin-man, shouting, ‘What are you doing?’ as her body slows and he cries, ‘Stay back!’.

  Watching the creature charge, its claws scramming along the bricks the tin-man stands still. Holding his axe in front of him he waits, his eyes fixed, the creature coming closer at tremendous speed, too fast to stop, a chance for attack. Its roar piercing, the Kalidah lifts a claw in motion, ready to swipe and only feet from the tin-man as it strikes.

  The thick bone claws come down and the tin-man feels the breeze, pushing his body into the beast’s as the fatal strike misses, and the woodsman’s axe slices through the monsters belly. Its agonizing cry’s unbearable and the tin-man dives to the trees as the Kalidah’s speed continues, smashing to the ground as its blood smears over the tin-man’s metal. Scraping along the road the beast’s body soon stops dead as the chasm in its chest stretches several feet, and the smell’s almost unbearable.

  With darkness merely an hour away, Dorothy feels the chill up her back as they trek through the forest again. They’ve been walking non-stop for several hours and her legs are weakening, her stomach empty as she wonders where they’ll rest and eat. Then unexpectedly she hears music in the distance. Pausing in her tracks the scarecrow stands by her side, looking through small gaps in the trees branches as he sees lights, a fantastic bright neon glow as he smiles widely, giving a, ‘Oooh!’ Walking behind them the stained Tin-man booms, ‘The carnival’s here,’ as Dorothy asks, ‘Will they have shelter for the night?’ The tin-man nods his head concerned, answering, ‘Yes they will,’ and she looks at him to feel the scarecrow tapping her shoulder, smiling wildly as his head shakes and he asks, ‘Are we going in? It will be fun.’ Dorothy looks back to the troubled Tin-man, knowing that this could be the only place with shelter for the night, despite how little she knows of it. Then she places a hand on his, as well as the scarecrow’s, as she feels something wicked in the air, hastily assuring, ‘Yes, but we have to stay together.’

  13

  Walking to the entrance Dorothy feels the grass under her feet, shorter than before as she looks out to a large clearing; every inch covered with bodies, stalls, stages and machines as the carnival’s circled by carnivorous trees. They stand tall, silent though leering out at the neon lights, the swarm of bodies fumbling about each other as some slither on the ground and others walk with legs spanning from one to eight. Cautious at first, holding the scarecrow’s hand tighter Dorothy looks out to the crowds, some with faces like insects, bodies like animals, and others none at all. A number of them look human, just taller, shorter and oddly shaped, though others hold their brains in jars, some have no arms, and the odd few have skin etched like pieces of a puzzle. Even those that Dorothy thinks as mortal humans are strange to her, and in amazement she stares, her streak of tiredness subdued as she looks to the scarecrow. Shaking his burlap head and fidgeting, his buttons stare as anxious and excited as a child. Turning to Dorothy he asks, ‘Can we go in now?’ as the tin-man looks down to the girl and nods his head cautiously. ‘I…I suppose so,’ she replies, and before she can say another word the scarecrow runs ahead, pulling her along as the tin-man follows behind and they stand at the entrance.

  Dorothy looks at the odd creature at the gate, his skin covered in green blotches as he nods his head with the words, ‘Come on in, enjoy!’ to th
e couple in front of them, but stares tiredly at the tin-man. ‘No weapons inside sorry,’ he says with a sigh, and the tin-man replies, ‘Do you have rooms for the night?’ Looking at him with worn eyes the gateman enforces, ‘We do but you can’t take in the weapons,’ as the tin-man answers, ‘That will be fine, we’ll leave the weapons in the room.’

  ‘Perhaps you didn’t hear me I…’ the gateman pushes angrily, and the tin-man moves in closer as his jaw grits and his hands clench to the axe, ‘No, you didn’t hear me!’ Placing his arms in the air the man steps backwards, easing, ‘Fine, okay, okay, but put them away quickly,’ as the trio walk inside to join the crowd.

  With his eyes open wide the scarecrow spots the bright colours of the stalls, the toys and amazing games as he wrenches at Dorothy’s arm, pulling her in one direction then another until she holds herself sternly. Her weight grounded she can feel the scarecrow trying to pull her, and as he turns his head she yanks him backwards. ‘We find a room first,’ she states, and like a sad pet he looks back to the stalls then follows Dorothy.

  The rooms are no more than small single bedded cabins, the sheets stained and the floor grubby, but with a lock on the door Dorothy feels comforted. Standing inside with the owner, a sleazy gnome he snorts, ‘Well would you like the room?’ and Dorothy replies kindly as he continues, ‘Good. Well what do you have to trade?’ Confused at first, though sure she should have known there’d be a price the young girl asks cautiously, ‘What would you like?’ The small man puts a finger to his chin, looking up to the ceiling as he requests, ‘Something, unusual.’

  As if for support Dorothy looks to the scarecrow for a second, unsure what to offer as the tin-man steps forward, storming fiercely, ‘Have you not seen her boots little man, the white on her dress. Did you not know the eastern witch is dead? This is the new witch.’ Stumbling about himself the gnome mumbles at first, tapping his fingers together as he cheekily gulps, ‘A good witch would pay a hard working gnome who…’ Standing next to the gnome, the large tin-man stares down with hungry eyes, fuming, ‘You greedy little man, I tell you that one of the four has chosen one of your cabins for the night, and you still wish to charge?’ Wiping sweat from his brow the gnome’s flustered, unsure of what to say as Dorothy thinks quickly and approaches the owner, speaking calm and clearly as he listens without hesitation, ‘If we choose not to pay you will receive nothing, though if I am satisfied with the bed and the nights rest you will be rewarded in the morning.’ Placing his hands together then giving a curtsy the owner wipes at his brow again, quickly cowering, ‘Yes yes, so kind. Thank, thank you. I’ll make sure no-one goes near your room, rest well,’ as he leaves the cabin and closes the door.