Gazing in the distance, hoping to find a familiar face Dorothy thinks quickly and turns a corner, running through the carnival as she dips behind stalls. Looking to see the figure in the distance, surrounded by the crowd and unsure where she is Dorothy squeezes between two tents, moving to the outskirts of the carnival. Passing a few carriages then hiding behind a small hut she keeps in the darkness, away from the bright light of the attractions in hope the figure won’t find her. Feeling the beat of her heart pound relentlessly in the cold quiet she looks again to see no one, and waits behind the hut for a moment longer. Taking a deep breath she watches the trees, closer than she’d like them to be as she remembers what the tin-man said, how they prey on the weak in darkness.
With her body pressed against the hut she realises how stupid she was coming out this far and creeps around the side. Distancing herself, scared to get any closer she looks out to the carnival to see the cloaked figure standing in her way, waiting. Without gasping she stands still, tells herself she’d be lying if she didn’t expect this, but that doesn’t mean she’s not scared. Her lips open with no words at first, just a warm breath as she musters, ‘What do you want?’ Silent, watching her fear grow the figure walks closer, and Dorothy moves backward begrudgingly, aware of the trees.
With every step the stranger takes she does the same, pulling away with, ‘What do you want?’ as she watches the small hut grow distant and feels moistness under her feet, looking down to murky water slithering with vines and roots. This time screaming, ‘What do you want?’ Dorothy stands still, grounding herself as she refuses to step back any further.
Silent at first the stranger keeps walking, feeling the girl’s fear as she stretches out an arm, warning, ‘Stay back!’ as he steps even closer, forcing her to pull back her limb in dread of touching him. Standing strong, knowing she shouldn’t move back she watches the figure, closer than arms length as it groans a tainted, ‘Want to trade?’
Her lips dry and fists clenched she grits her teeth, venomously biting, ‘For what?’ as the stranger lifts his scaled hands to pull back his hood, revealing his face. Looking at him Dorothy can’t help but panic, muttering under her breath, ‘God that’s ugly!’ as she looks at its green scaled face. His mouth stretches from the tip of his chin to the side of his cheek with thick red lips, as wide yellow eyes stare with oval pupils and the main of his face flakes as if burnt by the sun. Flicking a thick red tongue he pleads, ‘A kiss from a witch,’ as Dorothy thinks of trying to talk her way out of it, telling him she’s not a witch, but she knows he won’t listen.
Silent she wonders, daring not to run in case he’s too strong, pins her to the ground as he groans again, ‘I’ll take what I want whether you like it or not. I need it!’ Dorothy sweats, feeling she could cry, remembering the drunken fake fathers as slowly she realises she’s not just a girl anymore, she doesn’t have to be on best behaviour because of the orphanage, take the abuse without making a sound. This is Oz, and there’s no strings attached, she’s in control and no-one who can stop her trying to get home.
Almost smiling in bemusement she stares at the stranger, dazed as he pushes, ‘Well…’ and Dorothy smirks, uncomfortably trying to flirt, placing a finger on her lip as she asks, ‘What will you me trade for a kiss?’ He slithers, ‘Anything, I need this,’ and Dorothy’s skin trembles, her body awkward as she takes a step closer and places a hand on his shoulder. She’d seen women do this in movies, heard stories in the orphanage of girls trying to get what they want from men, but not from creatures like this. Trying not to shake, show a single expression of disgust she feels clunky in her movements, forcing her head closer to the stranger as he opens his wide mouth and Dorothy cringes. She knows what she has to do to get home, no-matter how much she may hate it, and as the figure closes his large yellow eyes she whispers, ‘Just be gentle.’
Opening her mouth, lingering it over the creature’s thick red lips she clenches her eyes shut to feel his hand along her bare leg. With his breath spreading along her face she’s scared and keeps a clenched fist, feeling his scaled palm on her thigh as she quickly bites into his lip to hear an agonising shriek. Forcing her mouth shut she cuts through the flesh, pulling her head away, tearing at a chunk of meat as his blood pours and she quickly punches him in the temple.
Stumbling away from him as he falls to the floor in agony Dorothy spits out a piece of his lip and wipes blood from her chin, stepping away from the trees and watching the hungry vines suddenly latch to the fresh prey. With the thick wooden shards cutting into his skin the stranger struggles, tries to pull away as he looks to Dorothy, his deep yellow eyes begging for help as she quickly runs away. Looking back she can hear him beg, ‘Help me,’ as he stretches out an arm and Dorothy shouts, ‘Aunt Em’ wouldn’t have approved of you, no manners,’ before blowing a kiss and smiling, ‘Have a nice night!’ Walking backward and watching him struggle against the branches Dorothy hears his screams fade as the wooden hands clasp at his face, dragging him into the forest as she almost feels proud, relieved that her plan worked.
Feeling safer with the lights of the carnival on her Dorothy moves back into the crowds and tries not to think too much about what she’s just done. Her eyelids flutter as she sees a fairy just above her nose, its tiny face panicked as it flies into the distance, bursting into dust. Thinking of how odd it seems she turns around to watch several children playing with a stuffed toy, pulling it in different directions as the fabric tears and the fluff pours out. Walking toward them she notices the forced smiles on their faces, scarred into their skin as they run away and Dorothy’s left looking down at the stuffed toy. Unsure what she expects to see she smiles, tells herself she’s just tired as she lets the odd thoughts fade.
Raising her head she looks around the carnival, still amazed by the different species, the odd games as she starts to walk ahead and feels a hand on her arm, hearing the words, ‘How good to see you,’ as she turns around with a smile. Wrapping her arms around the scarecrow, excited she reaches for her bag, teasing, ‘I’ve got something for you,’ as she pulls out the tangine necklace with a smile. Holding it to the light she watches the shapes float in the stone as she gazes at Scarecrow, his buttons wide as he grins, ‘How beautiful,’ touching at it with his fingers. Holding at the necklace she stands on the tips of her toes and ties it around the scarecrow’s neck, watching him fidget with the stone as he smiles, ‘Thank you,’ and she replies, ‘You’re welcome, I thought you’d like to look at it through the nights when I’m asleep, so you don’t get bored.’ Holding the stone between his long bony fingers he chimes, ‘I will,’ as Dorothy queries, ‘Where’s the tin-man?’ to which the scarecrow looks at the girls face, putting a finger to his head as he struggles to think, ‘He, he, um…I forgot. I’m sorry.’ Optimistic she rubs his arm then holds his hand, comforting, ‘That’s fine, we’ll find him.’
As they walk through the carnival, Scarecrow’s spoilt for choice as his eyes drift between the new sights and the stone around his neck. Guiding him through the masses, they walk past a large tent and Dorothy hears the sick cackle of Mr Jack as she peers through a hole in the fabric to look inside. Her vision’s blurred as she catches the glimmer of metal hooks, making the hole bigger with a thumb as her eyes widen; looking at tortured bodies hanging from the hooks as they groan pathetically.
With a shiver along her spine Dorothy stares at them, almost naked and wrapped in tight red plastic, lamenting with their faces covered with twisted masks as they hang constricted. Unsure what she’s witnessing Dorothy watches the dark Mr Jack point to two of them, deciding,
‘I’ll have that one and that one,’ before turning his head, giggling, ‘I spy with my little eye.’ Moving quickly Dorothy pulls the scarecrow’s hand, and the ringleader bursts from the tent with arms spread wide. ‘You want an autograph, blood, DNA, I’m full of them,’ he greets, and Dorothy eyes him up and down, pulling a face as she pipes, ‘Good for you, what are you doing in there?’
Pointing a finger
to her face Mr Jack smiles, stretching his thin lips as his yellow teeth shine with slickness, smarting, ‘Ya know what they say about curiosity?’ Without changing her expression, refusing to be impressed or intimidated she boasts, ‘It killed the clown,’ and Mr Jack turns his back, muttering, ‘Everyone’s a comedian,’ as he flings the entrance open. Looking into the deep dark tent Dorothy watches the metal rack, hooks supporting the confined bodies as the ringleader raves, ‘It’s all part of the show, wanna be in it?’ Sternly replying, ‘No,’ as the scarecrow stares obliviously into his stone necklace Dorothy asks, ‘What show?’ and Mr Jack runs a hand through his greasy hair, slithering, ‘The fu…reak, shooow! Best in Oz. Sure you don’t want in?’ Then his eyes scan Dorothy’s body, skimming down the dress, her bare knees then her silver boots. ‘Ohh, I could give you a really big part. I’ve never had a witch before,’ Mr Jack smiles. ‘And you’re not going to!’ She bites, as he groans confidently, ‘Listen, why don’t you come inside, I’ll show you around. Backstage access!’
‘What about my friend?’ Dorothy asks curiously, and Mr Jack dryly sneers, ‘Lean him against a post or something.’ Looking at Dorothy’s dress as he flicks at the frills, about to touch her she grabs at his finger, bending it backwards, ‘Listen, whatever you touch me with I will break off, understand Jack!’ Sulking, he pulls back his finger in a huff like a spoilt child before laughing, ‘My your feisty, I hate that in a girl. Prefer them stiff as a board if you know what I mean.’
‘Real charmer aren’t you?’ Dorothy says sarcastically, hearing his, ‘Well I do my best to please,’ as she snares, ‘It would please me if I stapled your mouth shut.’ She smiles before walking away as Mr Jack shouts in one last attempt to get her attention, intriguing, ‘At least come to the show. You’ve never seen anything like it.’ Dorothy hesitates, curiously answering, ‘Maybe, but if you try anything funny remember what I can do,’ as she points to her boots and smiles. Watching them walk away Mr Jack mumbles with his efforts crushed as he lashes out at the scarecrow, bullying him with, ‘Hey Scarecrow, your um, your heads misshapen,’ to which he replies innocently, ‘I know, you’re quite ugly too,’ as he plays with his necklace.
Walking through the carnival with a joyful stride Dorothy makes her way to the freak-show, guiding the distracted scarecrow through the crowds as he takes in the sights, pointing with a curious innocence: ‘Oooh, look at that, and that, what’s that one? I never saw one of those before.’ Dorothy watches children playing colourful games, and carnival entertainers dazzle their customers as the scarecrow makes sure she doesn’t miss a thing. Moving along without a care, hoping to find the tin-man little do they know that he’s lingering behind them, following in the distance. Keeping a watch over them he observes as they walk to the freak-show and decides to make himself known. ‘Dorothy!’ He calls walking toward them, seeing her turn around with a smile as she takes his hand. ‘We’re going to the Freak-show, you coming?’ she asks, and he looks down at her, replying dubiously with, ‘I better had,’ walking to the entrance as he continues, ‘We’ll have to be careful though, the ringleader collects oddities like us.’
15
With their bodies shuffling along the freak-show’s dark corridor Dorothy holds the scarecrow’s hand as the tin-man walks beside them, keeping on guard. Joined by several other visitors they walk through the attraction, just part of an audience preparing to be entertained as they hear abnormal noises coming from the floor. With the light dim enough so they can barely see their way Dorothy feels something at her legs, a small hand groping her as others feel the same and give sounds of worry mixed with mild laughter. Feeling it again, the odd pressure against her skin she looks down to see nothing and the tin-man walks calmly in his stride, fearless as he assures, ‘Don’t be scared, they’re just gnomes, made invisible by one of Outika’s spells.’
With the odd touch of skin against her Dorothy swipes it away to hear the rest of the audience laugh in amusement as she asks, ‘Are they always invisible?’ The tin-man answers, ‘Yes, a punishment I’ve heard the witch finds amusing,’ and the thought scares Dorothy, to never be seen by anyone, not even herself. As they walk forward the tin-man feels a touch along his legs and swipes his spiked gauntlet downward without thought. A small scream echoes through the hall and the audience talk amongst themselves in jest, unsure what’s happening as an invisible gnome lies on the floor, struggling to breathe.
At the end of the corridor, they walk into a small dark room, still barely dim enough to see in front of them as they sit along the two rows of chairs and look out to the stage. Covered in a thick red curtain the audience watch the platform, waiting for the show to begin as Mr Jack’s voice staggers through the darkness:
‘Welcome one and all, prepare yourselves because I have all the wonders of Oz to show you!’
Suddenly the dim light disappears, and left in darkness the audience flutter as Dorothy holds Scarecrow’s hand tighter, preparing herself as the crowd’s voices flicker in the dark. Waiting in the cold tense seconds without warning a bright spotlight shines onto the thick red curtains before they open, and what can only resemble a kalidah roars at them. Chained to the ground it swipes a claw several feet from their faces and they grab tighter at their chairs, pushing their hands against the cold metal as the creature watches them hungrily. Looking closely at the beast Scarecrow’s fascinated as he looks to what seems like a tiger, though with its body skinned of flesh and the head of a bear as it lashes a forked tongue. Mouthing, ‘How weird,’ the scarecrow pats his chin and Mr Jack walks onto the stage, this time dressed in a red suit as he twirls his cane and smiles fiendishly:
‘This my friends is a kalidah believe it or not. Though quite deformed, he still has the killer instincts of his pure-blooded brothers, yet is the only one of his kind. He is a rare breed and quite a sight wouldn’t you say. Now which of you is brave enough to give him a hug?’
The crowd sit obediently, some laughing mildly and others groaning in shock as Mr Jack hears a voice above the others, a heckling jeer, ‘That’s not real, it’s just a tiger in a mask!’ To which the ringleader licks at his lips, pointing his cane to the man, ‘I assure you a skinned tiger doesn’t look like this, though if you don’t believe me you’re welcome to try and pull its head off…’
With his cane still pointed at the audience Mr Jack waits for another response, a sarcastic reply but hears nothing as he quickly clicks his fingers. Abruptly two masked men come into spotlight and grab at the creature’s chains, leading it off stage with force as a small cage rolls on in its place, wrapped in a silk sheet. Walking alongside it the ringleader glides a gloved hand along the material as he continues: ‘Now this little thing is, well I suppose unique is the right word to use but I’d say he looks rather…two faced.’
Tearing away the silk sheet, one of Avatonika’s munchkins stands in the cage, screaming out to the crowd as it squeezes his hands through the bars trying to grab at Mr Jack. With a unified sound of awe, the audience mutter amongst themselves as they watch the munchkin savagely attacking its prison, focusing on the creature’s two heads as one screams and the other slumps lifelessly. Pointing a finger to the munchkin Mr Jack smiles, teasing it before he looks out to the crowd cheerfully:
‘You see, this rarity is one of Avatonika’s rejects. As when she tried to make what we all know now as munchkins, there were of course certain, deformities, and this one was born with two heads, although one is rather lifeless, and I’ll tell you why. You see, this little creature is a savage bundle of flesh, and used to have two fully working screaming, seeing and hearing heads. Although one day it decided to attack itself and beat one of its own faces to death. It’s odd I know and how could it still live? Why has the other head simply not rotted? Well my friends these are types of oddities my show brings.’
Again, by simply clicking his fingers two masked men roll the cage backstage and Dorothy watches curiously, no longer holding the scarecrow’s hand as they both stare with amazement. Unsure
whether she should be worried or not she knows that the tin-man was right, all three of them are the kind of oddities that Mr Jack would like to twist into a unique show, but she’s not scared. Intensely she watches the stage as the ringleader confidently boasts, bringing on a hammerhead with no arms or legs, then conjoint goonlens, followed by the bound humans on hooks, and finally a snake woman. Begging for help she stretches her arms out to the audience, pleading for her suffering to stop as the top half of her body’s scaled flesh, whilst her lower torso is nothing more than a thick serpents tail. Mr Jack walks around the caged woman, tapping his cane along the bars as he looks down to her twisted spine then back to the audience.
‘This young woman was a gift from Outika, the western witch. Apparently, she was a normal human slave girl, who found herself a victim to the queen because she simply refused to eat meat. The witch was shocked, appalled at such insolence and turned her into this thing you see, and I assure you she suffers greatly. Even more so that now, changed into this…thing, the poor creature craves only meat, and of course prefers her prey alive.’
Dorothy’s curiosity turns cold, the amazement at such sights soured as she realises the suffering these creatures must feel. With a sickness in her stomach she knows she can’t leave, doesn’t want to make a spectacle and draw attention to herself in a place like this. So instead she sits silently, prepared for what’s to come as Mr Jack prances around the stage, smiling, ‘I promised you unusual sights didn’t I!’ Then sitting on the edge of the stage he’s in the centre of the spotlight as the curtain closes behind him. Laughing manically at first, smiling to the audience like they’re children his jagged voice creeks:
‘Would you like to hear a story… of course you would. Once upon a time, there was a family who were stricken with poverty, so much so that the hut they lived in had holes in the roof, and their beds were sold long ago to buy food.
Dorothy: The Darker Side of OZ v5 Page 9