Dorothy: The Darker Side of OZ v5

by Scott Stanford

  Sad at the thought of losing her friends she realises that without meaning to she found the family she always wanted, the ones who protected her, always stood by her, and made her feel loved. They had all been through so much together, with each of them forming part of a bigger picture, one she almost can’t imagine living without.

  With a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes Dorothy taps her heels once, then again as she cries, ‘I’ll miss you all so much,’ but as she goes to tap them a third time the witch stops her. Notou’s gentle voice presses, ‘I can’t let you go just yet Dorothy,’ and as the young girl asks, ‘Why?’ the beautiful red garden suddenly bursts open as thick black liquid spreads along the ground. The witch’s beautiful eyes swiftly fill with darkness and her young skin shrivels to a wrinkled corpse as she falls to the floor, shattering to the ground as behind her stands a figure cloaked in black tar. From the dark robes two monstrous hands pull back a thick hood slowly, and underneath, Outika’s hideous face stares, deformed with one eye in the centre of her burnt myrtle head as she cackles:

  ‘I am the reason you woke in this world child, I am the beginning of Oz and I am the end. Without you I wouldn’t be free, but you tore the beautiful skin from my body, and for that I wanted you to see my true face. You’ve served your purpose child, and now I would rather see you suffer at the power of the silver boots than have it myself just yet.’

  Terrified, Dorothy’s unable to move, her body held still by the witch’s magic as Outika gives a hellish scream and the Carnivorous shoots into the air. Sprawling through the grounds and carpeting the once beautiful garden, the substance forces the young girl’s friends closer to the witch as tarred winkies submerge from the liquid. It drips from their deadly bodies as they screech in hunger and the lion roars, running at the evil witch. Leaping into the air he opens his savage mouth, ready to attack as Outika easily casts him to the ground, and the tin-man runs at her, wielding his axe and ready to chop her in half. Watching him charge Outika simply opens her hands as the curious Scarecrow bursts into flames, screaming as Dorothy cries, unable to move. Laughing, the witch looks to the young girl, clicking her fingers and controlling Dorothy’s feet as her heels tap together one last time, her body lifting into the air.

  Screaming, reaching out to her friends the young girl hears Outika scorn, ‘Goodbye Dorothy!’ as she tries to force her way to the ground, unable to fight the power of the silver boots as she watches the witch throw Tin-man to the floor, and surround the lion with deadly winkies. With her throat raw and her limbs weak Dorothy swipes at the air, her body ascending to the red sky as Toto’s bag slips from her shoulder, and she watches him fall to the ground. Quickly the carnivorous black consumes the country, spreading to the dainty china village and beyond as her friends get smaller in the distance, and she cries as she watches Tin-man and the lion fight for their lives.

  The silver boots tear the young girl through the red sky, away from Oz, giving her the only thing she wanted since she awoke in the land. Now the last thing she sees is the poor scarecrow, and the flames devouring him as he looks up at her, waving his hand as he sadly smiles,

  ‘Safe home Dorothy, safe home!’

  39

  Waking in shock, her body in agony Dorothy feels the soft padded cuffs around her wrists and her body tucked under warm bed sheets.

  She opens her eyes in the crisp white room to feel a torture more horrific than any Oz had to offer, and looking down at her feet she sobs, they’re bare with nothing to help her escape. Trembling, remembering everything that happened she feels her heart bleed, the burn of loss inside her as she prays Oz is real.

  Lifting her torso she screams, her hair wet and blood still caked around the slits spread over her body, stretching like cracks in concrete up to her forearms and along her back. Raw, her throat begs to be heard, her dry eyes burning as she flails her body, trying to get free, and aching to leave as she screams:

  ‘No! No, I don’t want to be here. I don’t belong here, how to I get back, how to I get back?’

  Hours pass, and eventually after the questions and accusations, their interrogation as to why her body was found in a gutter beside the highway, Dorothy lies in bed mournfully, so scared of this world and truly alone. She listened to what they had to say with tears in her eyes, their apologies and condolences reminding her of the fake voices she’d hear in the orphanage. They said it was peaceful, her aunt and uncle died in their sleep but she couldn’t believe it, how cruel the world had treated her, without even a chance to say goodbye. After everything she went through to come home, she was too late, and no-matter what she’d say no one would believe her about the scars, or where she disappeared to.

  Lying awake again, she can’t stop thinking of aunt Em and uncle Henry, missing them and wishing she were back with her friends in Oz. At least in that peculiar land far away there’s still hope for the young girl, and she knows it.

  Each night as she sleeps she prays she’ll wake in Oz, lying next to the lion as Scarecrow coos at butterflies and the tin-man watches over them. Only in dreams does Dorothy find peace, but even then the witch creeps in to remind her that she left her friends for dead.

  Through the days of slow torture, the medication and psychiatrists Dorothy notices that with every face she sees there’s disappointment, pity in their eyes as she hears the occasional whispers of, ‘Poor kid,’ and, ‘perhaps she couldn’t take it.’ So quickly the ‘real’ world attempts to strip her of Oz, and despite how hard she clings to it the dreams try to fade away, but she makes herself remember. She can’t afford to lose that piece of her.

  After a week, her wounds healed and her mind supposedly on the mend she’s finally discharged, feeling as though she’d just left Outika’s dungeon, but this time there’s no one waiting for her outside. Instead she’s given medication, appointments with doctors as a nurse brings a plastic tray into her room. Hearing the muted, ‘Here’s the stuff you came in with,’ Dorothy feels defeated, looking to the freshly cleaned gingham dress as she slowly slips it on, wondering where to go from here. Then she looks to the tray to see the small black key she was given by Bopeia, clutching it in her palm as the grim stare she’d been prescribed by the doctors slowly fades.

  Sitting silently in a taxi Dorothy watches the rain pour along the streets, the drab colours with disgruntled faces, every single one looking the same. She’d thought of going to the graveyard, placing a flower on her aunt and uncle’s stones but chose not to. She remembers the last time she saw them, years ago before the orphanage, and that’s how she wants to remember them, before they became too sick, before they just became names in stone. She mourns as the car drives through the countryside, even the green grass and distant hills muted in colour, their warmth eaten away by her broken heart.

  After an hour the taxi finally pulls up at the old farmhouse, and Dorothy steps outside, feeling the rain on her skin as she looks at a place she used to call home. The thoughts of evenings falling asleep on the porch and staring up at the stars flood back, times when uncle Henry would try to teach her how to milk a cow but she’d stroke its head for hours instead. Even that last day when she had to leave her aunt and uncle comes back to her, and she walks to the porch slowly.

  Her body drenched and the taxi long gone she feels the gauze sticking at her skin and thinks of the lion as she smiles. ‘Before he had his courage I bet he hated the rain’ she thinks to herself, and realises that if the tin-man were here he would surely rust…but he’s not. So walking onto the porch she looks out at the farm, smells the damp air and watches the rain bead off the corn, wondering how her friends are now. She tries to convince herself they’re fine, they beat the witch and ruled Oz together, but she doesn’t believe it. Instead she watches the rain pour onto the farm and rubs her side, feeling even more alone as she thinks of poor Toto, the friend that never left her side now trapped with the others in Oz.

  Then at the corner of her eye she spots a familiar face and leaps from the porch. Running into t
he cornfield the rain soaks her to the bone and she moves as fast as she can, screaming, ‘Scarecrow, Scarecrow!’ But when she reaches him she stands in disappointment, touching at the pathetic figure as she sighs, ‘Not even buttons to see,’ cursing Outika for sending her back to this cruel world.

  With a whimper, the young girl’s tears get lost in the rain and she thinks of her friends in Oz, so scared for them as she looks to the small black key around her neck. Clenching it in her hand she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, gritting her teeth as she lets out a cry, all of a sudden remembering what Bopeia had told her:

  ‘It will send you home when you need it the most,’

  Then the young girl shivers as she feels a strong wind coming from the north; the crops blow with a fierce breeze as fences get pulled into the air, and the farmhouse creeks wickedly. Suddenly nothing seems strange and Dorothy softly whispers, ‘I need to get home, I need to get back to Oz!’

  Biography

  Born in Bridgend, Wales, Scott Stanford started making films and writing short fantasy and horror stories at a young age. Years later, after reading John Milton’s 'Paradise Lost' alongside Bret Easton Ellis's 'American Psycho' this passion quickly grew. Firstly working with screenplays and film projects, a number of short stories were soon published in magazines, followed by a short film being exhibited in a Peter Greenway exhibition. Soon, after experimenting in poetry and a slew of short stories came a debut novel, with more to follow. Since then he's been writing as a novelist, and even turned down working with Samuel L. Jackson in the process. Now releasing his fourth novel 'Dorothy: the darker side of Oz' Scott currently lives in Manchester with his wife, a curious harlequin rabbit named Dexter, and Jimmy Joyce, a loveable Labrador.