Month: November 2021

Questions for Today

I have a gut feeling that Toto and the Lion could be the best of friends. I’d like to see that happen, so how do I make it grow?. Also, how do we deal with the Woodman who is so sensitive to killing things. In the original, the Lion just goes to hunt on his own and never speaks of it. But it seems to me that Toto, while he can eat some of Dorothy’s food, would probably prefer a bit of what Lion catches. Plus, would Dorothy have much left to share? What else could Scarecrow and Woodman help Dorothy find to eat in the forest? (The nuts are in the original story, just not quite like what I’ve written. While I’m catching glimpses of spots where Dorothy could have a bit of magic, I feel like adding magic may be something from a second edit. Almost like I need to feel the arc of what I write so that I can go back and create magic and possibly horror? I thought horror was going to be more prevalent, but so far I feel like I am just doing the basic retelling.

Chapter 8 – Under the Tree and the First Ravine

The day stretched long before them and the forest sky was beginning to darken.  Dorothy’s stomach whined noisily.  

“What was that?” asked the Scarecrow, huddling closer to Dorothy. “It sounds like Lion is growling, but it does not seem to be coming from him.”

The Lion, walking ahead, stopped and turned around.  “I am not growling.  Perhaps it is the little Toto?”

Toto had stopped as well and gave a quick bark.

“It is not the Lion and it’s not Toto,” said Dorothy.  “It’s my stomach.  I’m hungry and that is what stomachs do when they are hungry.”

“I don’t have a stomach,” said the Scarecrow.  “Why does it talk?”

“Neither do I,” said the Woodman and tapped on his tin belly.  Dorothy could hear the echo through his body. “What is your stomach saying?”

“It is saying that I need to stop and eat soon.  Toto will be hungry too.  Lion, are you hungry as well?”

“Yes, but I will need to go and hunt.  I will catch something for you, if you would like?  Would you like a deer for your supper?”

Dorothy thought about that for only a second before Woodman began to cry again.

“Woodman, please don’t cry.  The Lion is a lion and he must kill to eat.  But we do not want you to rust, so perhaps Lion can eat away from us?”  Dorothy looked at Lion as she wiped away Woodman’s tears with her apron.

“I just don’t want to hurt anything,” said the Woodman.

“For a man without a heart, you care very deeply.  The sky looks to be getting darker and I’m getting tired.  Could we look for a place to spend the night?  I have a bit of food left for Toto and myself. It will be enough for today.”

The group soon came upon an enormous tree, different than much of the pine forest that they had been walking through. It had huge broad leaves that stretched out on very long branches.  The land beneath the branches had tufts of grass and ferns and little flowers that had begun to disappear in the darkening light. The sky past the branches had turned a deep lavender and Dorothy could see stars beginning to sparkle.  

“Does this look like a good spot for you?” asked the Scarecrow.

“The ground looks soft,” said Dorothy. “And I think I will feel safe, knowing you are all around me. Lion, if you would like to go and hunt, we will wait here for you until you return.”

“I will be back before the sun rises!” He turned to leap into the forest, but Toto gave a single loud back.  The Lion turned back.  “What does Toto eat?” 

“He eats what I eat.  Well, for the most part.”  Dorothy thought about if for a moment, remembering the squirrel earlier today.  “Actually, Lion.  He likes meat too.”

“Can he go with me?” asked Lion and Dorothy thought she heard a bit of eager excitement in his voice. “I promise to keep him safe!”

Toto began to jump around at Lion’s feet, his tail wagging. He ran back to Dorothy and turned onto his back, wiggling, and then jumped back to his feet and ran to Lion.

Dorothy had to laugh to herself, thinking about how the two of them had met.  “You promise you won’t let him get hurt?” Dorothy asked seriously.

“I promise that I will protect him with my life.”

“Toto, come give me a kiss.”  Toto ran and licked Dorothy across the nose, his tail wagging frantically.  Bouncing and joyous, the two ran off into the forest.  Dorothy was reminded of a puppy and a very large kitten, heading off into an adventure.

Dorothy spread what was left from her lunch bucket onto her apron.  There was very little left, just a small bit of hard cheese, mostly rind, and a dry piece of brown bread.  She tried to make it last by nibbling slowly.  She would worry about Toto, but was also grateful that he would have a good meal tonight.

“Dorothy,” said the Scarecrow, “is this food?”

The Scarecrow was standing away from the brick road at the farthest expanse of the enormous tree’s branches. The forest trees gathered there but they did not grow under the single tree’s canopy.

Dorothy walked to where the Scarecrow stood. Littered across the ground were round, hard shelled balls. The Scarecrow held a few in his hand for her to see.

“I think these are nuts,” said Dorothy.  “Woodman, you live in this forest. Do you know if I can eat theses?”

“Oh yes!  My mother put these into our porridge.  The shell can be tough to open, but the meat inside is tender and sweet.”  The Woodman brought a broken yellow brick to where Dorothy and Scarecrow stood. He laid one of the round balls on the broken brick and tapped it with the back flat edge of his axe.  He handed it back to Dorothy.  “You must take off the hard outer edges.”

Dorothy picked the tender flesh out from the inside.  “It’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.” The taste was earthy and warm and slightly sweet on the front of her tongue. It was bitter as she swallowed, but the bitterness was mild.

“The ground is covered with them!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, bending to pick them up. Dorothy tried, but it was hard for her to see in the deep shadows.

“I’m sorry, Scarecrow, but I can barely see them,” said Dorothy.

“That’s okay!” said Scarecrow, “I can pick them up all night if I need to.”

“I don’t think you need to do that, but perhaps you could bring them to me and I can crack them until I go to sleep?  I’m still very hungry, and this would help my stomach to stop talking.”

Dorothy returned to the soft grass nearer to the road.  The Woodman brought her two broken yellow bricks.  He showed her how to use one brick to smash the nut against the other so that she could remove the meat.

Scarecrow removed the oil can from the lunch bucket, setting it near the tree, and began to fill the pail with the nuts, his gloved hands were clumsy and slow, but he was persistent in his dedication.

The Tin Woodman began to cut and gather wood and built a small fire close to the road so that Dorothy could be warm in the cold night.  She worked at breaking the nuts until her eyes grew so tired she could not keep them open a moment longer.  She feel asleep in the tufts of grass, the heat of the flames making her feel warm and safe.

Scarecrow kept gathering, but he kept a good distance from the fire.  He shook, being so close to the flames. He kept imaging a single spark landing on his dry clothes and how the grass inside him would explode into flames. Dorothy needed food for the next day and he continued to collect, making a large pile at the base of the trunk.  When he saw Dorothy start to shiver, he ventured closer to the flames, bringing handfuls of leaves and laying them over her like a blanket.  

As Dorothy awoke the next morning, she found herself cuddled deeply into a very soft, very warm fur blanket.  She cuddled closer, but suddenly jumped, her eyes jerking open.  She felt disoriented.  The light floated between the branches above her and dust glinted in the air. Toto lay wrapped in her arms, his back turned to the fire, now only hot red coals.  Her back lay nestled into the Lion’s mane.  He lay on his side, facing away from her, a rhythmic snore filled the air as his chest rose and sank.  

She gently slid her arms out from under Toto and sat up, rubbing her eyes.  She remembered where she was.  The yellow brick road lay on the opposite side of the fire that the Woodman had tended through the night.  The Woodman himself was standing against a tree, his eyes were closed.  Scarecrow sat at the base of the truck of their canopy tree. He was using the yellow bricks to break the nuts.  To his side sat a large pile of shells and Dorothy saw that he had completely filled her bucket.

“Good morning Scarecrow,” she whispered.  The Woodman opened his eyes, “Good morning Woodman.”

“Good morning Dorothy,” said Scarecrow.  “I cracked the nuts all night and filled your lunch bucket!”

“Thank you Scarecrow!  Where should we carry the oilcan though?”

“Last night, the Woodman showed me that if we fill the spout with leaves, the oil will not spill and I can keep it safely tucked in the straw in my chest!”

“Well, that is very smart indeed.  Do you mind carrying it?”

“No, it will make me happy to carry it.  And then I can help the Woodman if he begins to cry again.”

“I will not cry again,” said the Woodman, “…or I hope not to.”

Lion began to stretch next to Dorothy.  He yawned, and his yawn sounded like a quiet roar.

“Hello Lion,” said Dorothy, scratching the back of his mane, between his shoulder blades.

His leg began to kick as Dorothy scratched, just as Toto’s often did.

“Oh, that is the spot!  Please don’t stop,” purred the Lion, his leg kicking into the grass and dirt. Toto rolled onto his back, not wanting to be left out.  

Dorothy rubbed Toto’s belly. Looking at them both, she good-naturedly said, “You two are a spoiled lot!  It is time to get moving.” Then she whispered into the Lion’s ear, so that the Woodman couldn’t hear, “Did you both get enough to eat?”

The Lion gave a slight nod to his head and a happy purr.

“Thank you, Lion, for keeping Toto safe.”

“Always, Dorothy.”

The Lion stood and stretched, “I need a drink of water.”

Dorothy had not realized how thirsty she was, but at the mention of water, her mouth felt parched.

“Please Lion, will you show me the way?”

Lion led her to a stream and Scarecrow followed with the pail full of nuts.  Soon Woodman arrived, “I found these mushrooms growing from a fallen tree.  You must be careful, Dorothy, not all mushrooms are safe to eat, but my mother used to cook these in a stew.”

They sat together at the brook. Dorothy ate her feast of nuts and mushrooms and washed it all down with fresh, clean, water.  Scarecrow sat at her side while Woodman stood back amongst the trees.  Toto and Lion played and drank, chasing each other in a silly sort of tag. 

When Dorothy had eaten her fill, she washed her face in the cold water and tried to rebraid her hair.  

They all made their way back to the yellow brick and began their day of walking.  The forest was still dense but did not penetrate the center of the road the way it had earlier in their journey.  Dappled light danced upon their path.  

They had only walked for a few hours when the trees abruptly stopped.  Stretched before them was a deep chasm, the edges raw and broken.  It stretches for as far as they could see to their left and to their right.  The yellow brick road abruptly ended, but far on the other side, Dorothy could see it that it began again.  Deep below them, they could see a river.  They could not tell if it was big or little, only that there was no way across.

“Well, now what?” asked Dorothy.

They were all silent, staring at the deep cut in the earth before them.  

The Woodman walked up to the edge and stood looking down into the canyon.  “Perhaps we could go around?” he said after some time.

“The cut in the lands looks to go on forever,” said Dorothy.

“Perhaps there is a path to the bottom and we can climb our way back up?” suggested the Lion.

“I don’t see any paths on either side, the walls look too steep,” said Dorothy.

“If only we could fly,” said the scarecrow. He sunk, defeated on the ground, his head resting on his fists. 

The Lion looked at him and began to pace along the edge of the divide. “I must not be afraid,” he said, repeating it over and over again.  Suddenly, he turned to the chasm, wiggled his bottom, his tail flicking frantically.  His muscles tensed and it was if the Lion were flying.  He soared over the canyon, landing softly on the other side.  The air was filled with a roar of triumph.

“I was afraid, but Scarecrow, you reminded me that I could fly in my own way!” Easily he leapt from the far side and was back standing next to them. “I will take you each over, one at a time.  Who will go first?”

“I will,” said Dorothy, feeling unsure but trusting the lion.

“No,” said the Scarecrow, “I will go first.  Lion can make the jump, but he has not made it with someone on his back.  If I go first and he does not make the jump or if I fall off, then I will not be hurt.  I will fall to the river below but I will still be alive.  If Woodman were to go first and if he fell, his body would be badly damaged by the water and the rocks below.”

Scarecrow climbed up onto the Lion’s back.  “Let me carry the lunch pail” he said.  “I am the lightest and the extra weight will not make such a big difference.”  He tucked the pail under his coat, with the oil can buried deeply inside the straw of his chest.  

The Lion leapt. 

Dorothy watched, but was filled with fear as the Scarecrow appeared to wobble at the height of the jump.  They landed lightly on the other side. 

Dorothy was next.  On the Lion’s return, the Woodman lifted Dorothy to the Lion’s back. She wrapped Toto snuggly in her apron, folding up the cloth and tying it around her back to make a large, secure pocket.  She wrapped her right had in the lion’s mane, and wrapped her left arm around the little dog, afraid that no matter how securely she had tied her apron, Toto would fall out.  “You stay still,” she whispered to Toto.

The lion paced for just a moment, paused, and jumped.  Dorothy had never thought about what it would be like to fly, but for just a moment, she imagined what it would be like to be a bird, soaring over the canyon below.  With a gently thump, they landed.  Lion lay down so that Dorothy could slide off.

Now there was only the Woodman.  The Lion was tired and panting but he quickly sprang to the other side.

“Please rest,” called Dorothy to the Lion.  “We don’t have to hurry. Scarecrow and I will wait here.”

But the Lion was anxious to have everyone on the same side of the divide, and so the Woodman climbed upon his back. The Lion paced, turned, wiggled his tail, and he leapt.

Dorothy saw on his face that he looked tired and pained. She watched as he flew over the ravine, a strange bird.  His front feet landed firmly, but in his exhaustion, he had not traveled as far.  His back legs landed just at the edge and Dorothy watched as dirt began to tumble to the river below.  The Lion’s eyes grew wide as his front claws grabbed at the dirt, his back legs scrambling against the decaying edge. 

It all happened quite quickly, when the Lion’s back legs were no longer visible and Lion, with Woodman on his back, began to slide over the edge.

Dorothy screamed, “Stop!” It was as if the world went into slow motion.  The Lion stopped sliding and his back feet caught on a tree root sticking out from the edge of the cliff. Slowly, he clawed his way back to the flat land.  The Woodman slid from his back and sat on the ground.  Lion collapsed on his side, his breathing labored. 

Research

3 Edible Wild Mushrooms (and 5 to Avoid)

The Taste Bud Map You Learned in School is All Wrong

Questions

Baum never gives the Cowardly Lion a back story. Do I want to create one for him? The others have back stories based on the the original works. What would make Lion so fearful? Would he be born fearful and then be rejected by his pride? Or was he a completely normal lion cub and then something happened to make him fearful?

Chapter 7 – Meeting the Cowardly Lion

“How far is it to the Emerald City?  Do you know, Woodman?”  asked Dorothy.

They had been walking for many hours and the forest stayed thick and dark.  The yellow road was uncared for and trees grew right to the edges of the bricks, lifting the bricks with their roots.  Scarecrow was falling less and was becoming more aware of the dangers in the road ahead of him.

“I don’t know.  My father went once when I was a little boy, but I have never been to the other side of the forest.  I remember that he was gone for a very long time.  He told me that the  land was dangerous but that it was beautiful when he got close to the Emerald City.”

A screech came from the trees to their right and they all jumped and looked in that direction.  Toto, who had been walking ahead, slowed and walked just in front of Dorothy.  Soon, a low growl came from their left.

“Dorothy, you should walk between Scarecrow and I,” said the Woodman.

Dorothy moved in-between them, Toto now close to her feet.  

In the distance the sounds of a long howl echoed, it seemed to bounce between the trees and each of them looked in a different direction.  They moved closer together.  Dorothy wound her arms between those of her companions.   

“I’m afraid,” said Dorothy quietly.

“Don’t be afraid, Dorothy.  You have the mark of the good witch on your forehead.  No one will hurt you.  The scarecrow doesn’t feel pain and can be put together again.  And as long as I have my oil can, nothing will hurt me.”

“But what about Toto!” Dorothy exclaimed, looking up at the Woodman.  She let go of their arms and bent, scooping Toto up to carry him against her chest.  

Suddenly there was commotion just ahead of them in the trees; loud crashing and limbs falling to the ground.  The air shook with a roar and an enormous golden blonde lion leapt onto the bricks in front of them.  Dorothy stumbled backward with Toto in her arms, but neither the Scarecrow or the Woodman were fast enough.

A huge paw swept through the air, it’s claws outstretched. The Scarecrow went rolling to the edge of the road, straw filling the air.  There was a loud metal ringing as the Woodman was knocked from his feet and slammed into a tree at the edge of the road.

Toto squirmed in Dorothy’s arms, growling, and suddenly broke free, running at the giant beast.  The Lion roared again but took a step backward as the little dog ran at him. Toto bit deeply into the Lion’s paw.

“Ouch!” The Lion exclaimed and jumped backward, pulling his leg away from the snapping dog .  “You hurt me!” And then, to Dorothy’s surprise, the lion began to cry.  Huge, thundering sobs.  He held his paw in the air.  Toto stood growling in front of the lion, protecting all of his friends.

Dorothy saw her poor friend the Scarecrow huddled at the edge of the road, shaking. His coat appeared to be torn and he was surrounded by hay.  She saw the Woodman, lying on the ground against a tree, his eyes closed.  She saw her little dog barking at the great crying creature and she was suddenly filled with rage.  

Walking forward, she scooped up Toto and slapped the nose of the Lion.  “How dare you scare us like that!”

“What was that for?” came his mournful response and he began to cry even more loudly as enormous tears fell from his eyes.

“You knocked down my friends!”

“I didn’t know they were your friends,” the lion said shamefully.

“Of course you did!  You apologize.”

The lion began to tremble and looked as if he were going to run back into the forest.

“You stay right there and apologize to my friends.”

Finally, with tears streaming down his face, the Lion said, “I’m sorry that I scared you.”

“That’s better,” said Dorothy, “Toto, you watch the lion and don’t let him go anywhere.” Toto gave a bark and turned to face the lion, a constant grown in his throat. 

The lion sobbed as Dorothy went to help up the scarecrow.  “Are you okay, Scarecrow?”

“I’ve lost a bit of straw is all,” said the scarecrow, his voice shaky. The lion’s claws had torn a bit from the bottom of his coat and knocked a button from his shirt. Hay lay about his feet. She helped the Scarecrow up and together they gathered the lost hay and stuffed it back into his shirt.

The Tin Woodman has now sitting up next to a tree, his hands pressed into his head. He was turning his head to the right and the left. 

“Are you okay Woodman?” asked Dorothy.

“I suppose it is lucky that I don’t have a brain, my head is ringing.”

Dorothy and the scarecrow helped the Woodman into a standing position, and Dorothy saw that the claws had dented the Woodman’s arm.  

Dorothy turned to the Lion.  “Look what you’ve done!  You have damaged his arm with your claws!”

“I didn’t mean to,” said the Lion, his sobs had quieted and he was licking his paw.

“Well of course you meant to!”

“I only meant to scare you,” responded the Lion, petulantly.

“Are you so big and brave that you need to scare a little girl and her companions?”

“No!” roared the lion.  “I am not brave at all!” With this, he sunk to the ground and began to weep again.  “I have never been brave.  I am always afraid.  I am afraid of the forest and I was afraid of you.  You have the silver shoes of the witch.”

“Then why didn’t  you just leave us alone?” asked Dorothy.

“Because I wanted you to go away. And I thought if I scared you, you would go back to where you came from.”

“We can’t go back from where we came from, we are going to the Emerald City.”

“Why are you going there?” asked the Lion, looking up from his injured paw.  

“Because I want to go home and I need the wizard’s help to get me there.  The Scarecrow needs a brain, and the Woodman needs a heart.”

“Can I come with you?” asked the Lion shyly.

“Why?” asked Dorothy.

“Because I am afraid of everything.”  The great lion then tucked his eyes beneath his paw so that Dorothy could not see his face.  A moan escaped his body.  

Dorothy looked at the Scarecrow who shrugged his shoulders.  She looked at Woodman who nodded his head. 

“Toto,” said Dorothy, “you can stop your growling at him.” Toto stopped and wagged his tail. He ran back to the Scarecrow and sat at his side. Dorothy walked up to the Lion and sat next to him, stroking his giant mane.  He began to quiet.

“What made you so afraid?” asked Dorothy.

“I don’t know,” said the Lion.  “I have always been afraid, for as long as I can remember.”

“Did you always live in the forest?”

“No. When I was a cub I lived with my mom and our pride in the west lands, not as far as the witch, but where the land is dry. The witch wanted to control us, to make us work for her, but the Lionesses refused and decided to leave the land. It is only little things that I remember. The dryness. The way that my mother was warm. Her smell. I remember other cubs. I remember us walking and searching for a new home.”

“I remember the day that the flying monkey’s came…”

“Flying monkey’s?” asked Dorothy.

“Oh, yes, they are the minions of the witch!” said the Woodman.

“Terrible creatures,” said the Scarecrow.

“There were so many of them,” said the Lion, “that the sun went dark and the air was filled with the flapping of their wings. My mother picked me up and hid me under a pile of rocks. I remember her telling me not to move until she returned for me.”

“I heard the monkeys screeching and screaming and I heard the Lionesses roar. I heard the flapping of their wings until there was no sound left. The sound of them fighting scared me, but the quiet scared me even more. I waited there, under the rocks, for my mother to come back, but she never came back. I was afraid to leave. I hid until my throat felt like it was filled with sand. I was hungry and I was thirsty, but mostly I was afraid.”

“Finally snuck out from the safety of the rocks. There was my mother, lying among the other Lionesses and their cubs. I tried to wake her, but she refused to move. They were all dead, lying in dried puddle of their own blood.”

Lion had begun to quietly cry again as Dorothy stroked his thick fur. “Poor Lion. What did you do then?”

“I tried to cuddle underneath her for a bit, but she was cold and she smelled different. So I walked in the direction that we had been heading. Every sound scared me and I hid every chance that I got. I didn’t know how to hunt, but I was so hungry that I learned to catch mice and bugs and sometimes even birds. The mice scared me, they were so small and fast, but they were easy to find. Finally, I found a spring of water. It grew and led me to the forest, where I hid.”

“I remember my first roar, and even it scared me.  But all the animals of the forest ran and hid from me.  For the first time, I did not feel so afraid.  When any of the animals came near me, all I needed to do was roar, and they would leave me alone.  So I began to roar more and more, but inside I only felt afraid.”  The Lion began to cry in great huffing sobs.  “I am a coward.”

“Lion,” said Dorothy gently, “would you really like to come with us to the Emerald City? It might be a very scary trip.”

“Really?” He peeked out between his paw.

“Yes, really.  It would be nice to have someone as big and strong as you to help us on our journey.  And if we need something to leave us alone, I think your roar would do very nicely.”

“Do you think that I can ask the wizard for something?” asked the Lion.

“What will you ask him?” asked Dorothy.

“I will ask him for courage.  I am tired of being scared.  All that I want is to be brave.”

“Yes, Lion,  I think that if Oz will grant us our wishes, then he will grant you yours as well. Now, let me see your paw and make sure that Toto has not hurt you too badly.”

The Lion lifted his paw and saw that Toto’s tiny teeth had not broken the skin.

“I think you will be okay,” said Dorothy, “perhaps a bit of a bruise under your fur, but I don’t think that he cut you.”

Together, Dorothy and the Lion stood, and they all began to walk again down the yellow brick road.  The Lion padded ahead, and while Toto occasionally grumbled and growled, in time Toto began to walk at the Lion’s side.  It seemed to Dorothy as if the Lion and the dog were having their own conversation as they walked.  

As they walked the trees slowly began to open, with more space to see the sky.  The trees began to move a bit father back from the road.  The Woodman slowly fell back and when Dorothy turned to see why, she saw that rust had formed in streaks down the Woodman’s face.

“Woodman, why are you crying?”

But the Woodman only shook his head.

Scarecrow quickly reached into the lunch bucket and removed the oil can.  He poured oil at the Woodman’s eyes and jaw and mouth.  He gently rubbed the Woodman’s face with his glove.

Finally the Woodman said, “When we began walking again, there was a little red beetle walking in the road.  I didn’t mean to, but I saw it too late.   I stepped on the poor little thing and I killed it.  I rusted myself with crying.” 

“Oh, Woodman, you should have said something before you rusted yourself!  There are many bugs in the road and there will be many more before we arrive in Oz.  You must not be so hard on yourself.”

“No, I must be harder on myself,” the Woodman responded.  “I have no heart and I don’t know when I am being mean.  I don’t know if I am doing hurtful things to others.  I do not wish to be cruel, and so I must pay even closer attention to every step that I take.  You, you have a heart Dorothy.  Your heart will guide you to do what’s right.  But I must work to be good.”

The Woodman continued to walk, but he was very careful with every step that he took.

Rabbit Hole of Research

Dissecting a Lion’s Jump

12 Amazing Facts About Lions

Dynasties: Lions with Pride

Understanding Lion Infanticide

“After this the enchanted axe cut off my arms, one after the other; but, nothing daunted, I had them replaced with tin ones.”

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum

Thoughts for today

I think the Tin Woodman’s story in Baum’s original story is just about the most heartbreaking story in the book. It is also one of the most problematic. It’s never discussed in the film, and rightfully so, it’s gruesome. Essentially, the Woodman falls in love with a Munchkin girl but SHE only promises to marry HIM if he’ll build her a better house. (Male authors, males authors at the 20th century,… are these the views we have on women?) Reading this automatically bothers me; why can’t it be that the Woodman is so in love that he wants to show his affection by building her a house? Why can’t she be the one who doesn’t care about such things. Baum’s story goes on to tell us that the girl lives with an awful old woman who is SO LAZY (really???) that she goes to the Wicked Witch of the East because she’ll do anything to have this girl continue to do the cooking and the housework. (Getting a better feel of Baum’s feelings about women yet?) So the old women gives the witch two sheep and a cow, because witches care about these things? The Witch enchants the Woodman’s axe and it systematically begins to chop off his limps. But Woodman is honestly like, “This at first seemed a great misfortune, for I knew a one-legged man could not do very well as a wood-chopper.” Yep, that’s his response to getting a leg chopped off which he has replaced with a tin one. Finally, all of his limbs are chopped off and then his head and eventually his body is chopped in half. He no longer has a heart, could care less for the girl and her tortured life as a slave to a selfish old woman, and egocentrically is in love with his tin body that can no longer be hurt by an axe, plus, you know, it shines in the sunlight.

Yeah, that’s the story of the Woodman. I just have to do better. Let me know what you think of the Woodman’s story in the comments below.

Chapter 6 continued – The Woodman’s Story

“Of course you can come to the Emerald city with us!” said Dorothy.

“We would be grateful for your company,” said the Scarecrow.  

Toto barked and hung back, hiding behind the trees.  He was not as comfortable with the man made of tin, but he had not seemed comfortable with the scarecrow at first either.  

They all walked back to the cabin, Toto trailing far behind.  Dorothy picked up the funnel lying next to the stream and repacked the little bit that was left of her breakfast.   

Once near the cabin, the Woodman said, “I will need to bring the oil can, in case we meet a storm.  I would like to fill it before we leave, with your help?”

Inside, the Woodman looked around at his cabin and the trees growing through the walls.  “It was not like this when I left the last time.  It used to be a home, and now it is a forest.”  His voice was low and regretful and Dorothy could feel his sadness.  “I guess I will not need this place anymore, and should I someday come back, I will build another.”  The Tin Woodman walked to what looked to Dorothy like a dairy can in the corner.  She hadn’t noticed it earlier as a tree had grown in front of it and it appeared to be lodged in place. 

“What is that?” asked Dorothy.

“It is all the oil I own in the world.” It took some time for the Woodman to free it and then walked to the cook stove, looking at the shelf that hung above it.

“I wonder where my funnel has gone?”

“Oh!  I have it here,” said Dorothy, pulling it from her lunch pail.

Scarecrow held the small oilcan still on the floor while Dorothy held the funnel in place over its opening.  The Woodman lifted and poured the oil until the can was full.

“This will have to do until we reach the Emerald City,” he said.  He closed the large oil can and placed it near the wall. Dorthy closed the small oil can, so that it would not spill.  She took the food out of her lunch pail, there was so little of it now, and placed the oil can in the bottom where it sat crookedly, tight against the sides. She rewrapped the food and set it on top.

“I will carry the lunch pail for you Dorothy,” said the Scarecrow.

“And I will hold the axe, in case we have need of it,” said the Tin Man.

They walked back to the yellow brick road and the brick eye of Oz showed them their way. Dorothy, Scarecrow, and the Woodman walked side by side while Toto ran ahead.  The road was rough and the trees grew between the bricks.  The further they walked, the closer the forest came to surround them and the thinner the path became; it’s outer bricks now scattered among the plants.   Toto had a easy time navigating the spaces as they narrowed but Dorothy found herself squeezing between trees and helping Scarecrow over branches.  Finally they came to a place in the road that was impassable.  The Woodman held up his axe and began to chop.  He cleared the branches and logs, giving them a new path, walking ahead of them to clear the forest. The bricks were so thick with dirt that only an occasional glint of yellow showed the way.  For some time, the Woodman continued ahead of them. He never spoke, the only sounds were of his chopping blade.

In time, the trees began to recede from the center of the path and their way became clear again, although still worn and dirty and damaged. Dorothy became less attentive to the Scarecrow, watching Toto ahead as he leapt at a brilliant blue dragonfly.

Suddenly, with a great crash and a yelp, the Scarecrow went tumbling and rolling to the side of the road.  He sat there, rubbing his head, a bit of old hay falling from his mouth.

“I’m sorry Scarecrow!  I was distracted watching Toto.”

“It’s okay Dorothy. I think that I am starting to figure it out, but I was watching Toto too and was wishing that I could run and jump the way he does.”

“Why do you fall?” asked the Tin Woodman.  

“Because I don’t have a brain and I am a fool,” said Scarecrow sadly.  “That is why I am going to see Oz.”

“I had a brain once,” said the Tin Man, “but it is my heart that I miss.  That is why I wish to go to the Emerald City.  Do you think Oz will give me a heart?”

“It’s hard to know,” said Dorothy, “but if he will give Scarecrow a brain, I don’t know why he would not give you a heart.  What happened to you?”

“Many years ago, I do not know how many because I do not know how long I’ve laid in the forest with my face in the mud and my head buried in leaves, I fell in love with a Munchkin woman.  I had been raised in the forest, flesh and blood, like you Dorothy. My father was a woodsman and sold the wood to the Munchkin people.  He taught me his trade and as a teen, I worked at his side.  Before I hit my 20th birthday, my father died.  I promised my mother that I would care for her for as long as she lived.  After my father died, her sadness was so deep, there was nothing I could do to bring her out of it.  She wasted away, and in a year, she joined my father in death.

I was lonely in the forest, and so began spending more time with the Munchkin people.  I continued to chop the wood for them and traded for food.  I never starved and the Munchkin people became my friends. They brought me into their homes and told me their stories.  There was a young woman of the flower fields, they called her Iris.  Her eyes were lavender and her hair was a pale red sunrise.  

I fell in love. Deeply in love, and she loved me.  I wanted to marry her, but I wanted to build her a beautiful home first.  She told me it didn’t matter, that she would come live in the small cottage.  But I didn’t want to make her live in the one room and I didn’t want to isolate her deep in the darkness of the forest.  I began to build her a home on the edges of Munchkin Land, so that I could return to the forest for wood and she would be close to her people.

Her father, his name was Lox, wanted her to marry one of their own kind. Not someone like me. He was powerful, serving on the Council of the Munchkins.  He dealt directly with the Witch of the East.  She was cruel and she stole from the Munchkins, but there were those on the council who worked with her, willing to sacrifice whatever she asked so that she would leave them in relative peace. They did not want war with the witch.

Lox so desperately wanted me away from his daughter that he went to the witch and, in exchange for her killing me, he would give her the secrets of the council. She agreed and he became her spy.  In return, she put a spell on my axe.

One day, I was out chopping wood to build the house for my Iris and the axe acted as if it had a life of it’s own. I swung it at a tree and it turned back on me, opening my right thigh.  I fell to the ground in agony and watched my blood soak into the ground. I wrapped my leg in my coat and pulled myself back to the cabin. Iris came and found me after I didn’t return to the land of the Munchkins, delirious with fever. Pus and blood had soaked through the wrappings. Infection had set in and I was close to death. She found herbs in the forest that kept me on the edge of life, neither in this world or the next. She brought the Munchkin doctor, but there was nothing that could be done. He took my leg.

She found me a small, one roomed house just outside of town and cared for me while I healed, never staying too long for fear of retribution from her father. She knew that he did not want us to marry, but she didn’t not suspect how much he hated me. She had other healers care for me when she couldn’t. My dear Iris brought in a tin smith who created me a leg of metal.  In time I healed and returned to the forest to chop wood.

She begged me to marry her. She said she would come with me to the forest, or we could live in the small house outside of town. But I was stubborn and wanted to build her a house with my own hands.

Iris’s father was angry that I had not died.  He watched as she cared for me and when I lived, he went back to the Witch and threatened that he would stop giving her the secrets of the council.  The Witch told him that her magic continued to work in me and that magic, dark magic, often took time.

When I went back to the forest, my axe again turned on me. This time it chopped deep into my left hip.  Unknowingly, Iris had sent a very small Munchkin man who hid within the trees to watch over me. She gave him herbs and instructions on how to care for me, should I be hurt again. He was able to move me to the cabin and give me the herbs that kept me alive. Then, riding his pony which had been left to graze just beyond the trees, he rode to Iris who again brought the doctor. I did not get an infection, but the wound was too deep and the Munchkin doctor took my left leg and hip. 

Again, Iris took me to the small home outside of town and cared for me. The tinsmith made for me my left leg. The little Munchkin who had watched over me in the forest told Iris that it was as if my axe had been bewitched, that it had flown from my hands. She pleaded with me to find another axe, but this one had been my father’s. I did not believe in bewitchment and though that perhaps I had been clumsy.

Her father, angrier than before, went back to the witch and the witch told him to wait. That the spell was working it’s magic and it was only a matter of time.

Iris begged for me to marry her so that she could be with me always. She wanted to live in the cabin in the woods.  She wanted to leave Munchkinland. Still I was stubborn.

Again, the axe turned on me, chopping off my left arm in a single stroke.  Iris, by this time, had begun to follow me into the forest and she heard my cries.  She took me to the cabin and cared for me there, not caring that the Munchkin people would spread gossip about us, alone together in the forest.  She brought her medicines and in time, the tinsmith created for me an arm.

Iris begged me to go away, to go with her to the Emerald City.  I believe that she had begun to suspect her father, but she did not know how he had bewitched the blade.  He never spoke kindly of me and told her that he did not wish for her life to be difficult, that he only wanted for her to marry someone like them.  He told her that her life would be hard, much harder, if she married a man outside of the Munchkin tradition.

Still, I believed that I could change his mind.  But I would not change his mind if I took her away, and so I begged that she stay with her family until our house was finished.  She, afraid of what would happen to me, but also trying to keep peace with her family, sent a Munchkin to watch over me through the days.

When I swung my axe once again, the axe took my right arm.  I watched it fall to the ground as if in a dream.  The little Munchkin carried me back to the cottage.  I begged him not to tell Iris of my arm, and to please bring the tinsmith.  Instead he brought Lox, Iris’s father.

“Haven’t you had enough?” her father asked me.

“All I want is to build your daughter a home.”

He grew suddenly angry, “I do not want my daughter to marry you!  You are not her equal.”

He did not know that Iris was standing outside the door.  When she heard his words, she no longer cared what the world thought.  She came into the cabin and told her father, ‘This is the one that I love.  Why can you not understand?’

Her father left, he was full of anger.  He went to the witch, threatening to expose her to the people of Oz, threatening to expose the council for working with her.

The witch of the East was not used to his anger. She held her tongue and told him, “the time is coming.”

Iris stayed with me in the cottage and begged me not to go out.  She sent a crow to bring the tinsmith and he once again created for me an arm. She begged me to leave with her as soon as possible, to leave the land of the Munchkins.  But I was stubborn. I did not want to prove to her father that I was not worthy of her.  

I told her that there was nothing left that the axe could do to me.  It had already taken my legs and my arms.   I told her that I was quite safe.  But I was wrong.

The witch’s spell continued to work upon my axe and as I raised it to chop down a tree, the axe turned on me and I watched as my head fell from my body.  My head lay in the leaves and I watched my body fall to the ground.  I should have been dead, but Iris had begged Locasta, the good witch of the North to put a spell over me.  Locasta was not as strong as the witch of the North, but her spell allowed Iris to keep a small part of me alive until the tinsmith could build me a head.  The spell of the Good Witch kept my spirit around me, so that even though I was mostly made of tin, I could still remember all that Iris and I had shared.

Oh, how I still loved her, even though I no longer had a brain.  For it was my heart that belonged to her.  My recovery was long and she cared for me everyday.  She made me her medicines and they were full of love. I believe it was the love she put in her medicines that truly kept me alive, more than the spells of the Good Witch would.

One day she could not find the exact plant she needed and so she returned to the village, knowing it grew along the river there. While there, people turned and whispered. Finally, she overhead someone speaking that her father had made a deal with the witch and that I would continue to die, bit-by-bit, until there was nothing left of me.  She tried to get back to me, tried sending a message with the crows, but she was too late.

I had gone into the forest.  The only thing left of me was my chest and deep inside, my heart, so full of love for her.  She was all I could see of my future, this woman.  I was blinded to the evil nature of the witch, blind to my own stubborn nature. I never understood why her father hated me so much. I knew I was a good man.

I raised my axe and when I swung it, it cut through the tree in a single stroke. Through the tree, it turned on me, cutting me open.  It left my heart exposed and the corner of the axe nicked my beating heart. I lay on the ground, feeling the love beat out of me, listening to my heart slow.  When it stopped, I had become so much Tin Man, that I did not die.  But I no longer felt anything.  

The crows that Iris had sent gathered around me. They sang a song of sadness as I lay in a world of nothing.

Iris followed their song and found me, falling to her knees.  She screamed at the world around us, wailed in grief.  I felt nothing.  The tinsmith came and built me a chest, but it was hollow.  He attached my head and my arms and my legs, but I was empty.  

Iris tried to make me love her again, but I could feel nothing for her.  I told her to return home where she would find someone else to love.  She begged me to let me stay, but I was indifferent.  In time she returned to the Munchkin people.  I have never seen her again.

In the years that I laid in the forest, unable to move, I thought about Iris.  I realized what a great loss it was, to have no heart.  It made me wish to to love again, to not feel this emptiness inside.  Perhaps, if Oz sees fit to give me a heart, perhaps I will find Iris again.  Perhaps she will forgive me.  I expect that she is married now. Perhaps she has grown old. I wish to tell her how I felt and that I am sorry that I was a stubborn man. I should have done as she asked and married her. I should have taken her away. But how was I to know?”

Dorothy found that she had tears running down her cheeks.  Their walking had slowed as the Tin Woodman told his story.  Now they stopped and Dorothy turned to look at him, “You are a great man,” she said.  “It is my dearest wish that Oz gives you a heart.”

Scarecrow, not having the capacity to think before he spoke, said, “I don’t know what I would do with a heart if I did not have a brain to understand love.”

To this, the Tin Woodman responded, “Having had both, I know that it is our hearts and not our brains that make us happy.”

Dorothy stood and thought about what each had just said.  She wasn’t sure if either of them was right or if either of them was wrong.  Was it the ability to think that allowed someone to love?  If she did not have a brain and only had a heart, could she live a truly happy life?  What she did know was that she was feeling very hungry and that the tiny bit of food left in her pail would not last long.  

Chapters so far

NaNoWriMo Goals 2021

Day 1 – How Uncle Henry and Aunt Em find Dorothy

Day 2 – The tornado

Day 3 – Arriving in Munchkinland

Day 4 – The Munchkins and the good witch of the North

Day 5 – The Shoes and preparing for a journey

Day 6 – The Yellow Brick Road

Day 7 – Boq and the Birds

Day 8 – Helping the Scarecrow Down

Day 9 – Scarecrow’s Story

Day 10 – Meeting the Tin Woodman

No Research Today…

Just my feelings about the original that you read at the top.

One of the big trees had been partly chopped through, and standing beside it, with an uplifted axe in his hands, was a man made entirely of tin. His head and arms and legs were jointed upon his body, but he stood perfectly motionless, as if he could not stir at all.

L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

Questions I had for today

What would the cabin look like in the daylight? Does it hint to the passage of time for the Woodman? In the book, the Woodman can already talk and can ask for oil, but if he has rusted, wouldn’t his mouth also be shut? How can Dorothy find the oil can without the Woodman’s help? In the original, the Woodman is standing. Would he still be standing after the passage of time, especially if he was chopping wood as he rusted?

Day 10 – Meeting the Woodman

When Dorothy awoke in the morning, she saw that an old and tattered blanket had been laid over her.  Light was streaming through the holes in the roof.  There were ferns growing through the floor and trees were pushing between the wall boards, branches growing in and out of the windows.  In the corner sat an old bed, the mattress rotten and collapsed to the floor.  A mouse stood on the edge of the blackened mattress, rubbing it’s little black eyes, and then darted back into a fabric hole.  In the other corner stood a rusted cookstove with an iron soup pot and a wooden spoon leaning against the inside. Above the stove was a shelf with an old metal funnel and a can with a handle and a spout.   The can seemed familiar to her, something from Kansas, but she could not place it.

“Where is Toto?” Dorothy asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“Toto woke with the sunrise and has been in and out checking on you while you sleep.  I saw him, through the window, chasing a squirrel.”

“Did you find this blanket?”

“Yes, it was laying over the end of this bed.  I hope you don’t mind, you were shaking and I thought perhaps you were cold.”

“That was very thoughtful of you” said Dorothy as she stood up, brushing the leaves from her hair and her dress.  She folded the mouse eaten blanket and laid it over the end of the bed.  Walking to the old stove, she looked in the pot and saw that whatever had once been in it had long dried to the bottom, the spoon appeared stuck.  She couldn’t reach the shelf.  

“Scarecrow, can you reach that can with the handle?”

Scarecrow brought the can down and Dorothy could hear liquid sloshing about inside.  She opened the top and smelled it.  The smell was also familiar, but she wasn’t sure why.  Closing it up again, she poured a tiny bit from the spout onto the top of the stove.  It was a dark brown color.  She rubbed a tiny bit between two fingers. It was slippery and did not come off easily.  She wiped her fingers on the corner of the torn blanket.

“What is it?” asked the Scarecrow.

“I’m not sure?  I think it may be some type of oil, but I don’t know what it’s for.”  She set it on the the cookstove.  “Scarecrow, can you reach that funnel for me?”

“What is a funnel?” he asked.

“The metal cup that is large at the top, but skinny and open at the bottom.”

The scarecrow reached up, taking it from the shelf, and gave it to her.  Dorothy rubbed her finger on the inside. Whatever had run through it had become sticky and could not be wiped away. She set it back on the cookstove and turned back to Scarecrow. 

“We need to find water.”

“Why?”

“I’m thirsty, and I’d like to wash my face.  I feel the dust from the leaves all over me.  I’d like to try to wash this funnel too, it may be helpful to us later.”

As they left the small cabin in the woods, Toto ran up to Dorothy.  He carried a rat in his mouth, his tail wagging. 
“I see that you have caught yourself breakfast.”

Toto dropped it at her feet.

“No, you caught that yourself, you can eat it.  I have a bit of bread and cheese left”

Toto picked up the rat and followed them proudly as they walked back behind the cabin.  Soon, Dorothy heard the trickle of water and, following the sound, led them all to a little creek.  Dorothy wondered if it was an extension of the creek they sat at last night.  

Toto sat next to a tree and ate his catch while Dorothy splashed the cold water over her face.  She unbraided her hair and using her fingers, did her best to comb the tangles back into place.  She tried scrubbing the funnel, but whatever had once run through it was mixed with dirt and it was unyielding.  Finally she sat to eat.  She had only bread and cheese and a bit of dried fruit left and was grateful that the scarecrow didn’t need food and that Toto had found his own meal.

“It seems a hassle to be human,” the scarecrow said.  He was standing near the tree where Toto was eating.

“What do you mean?” asked Dorothy, between bites.

“You must eat, and sleep, and drink, and wash, all while having thoughts in your head.”

Dorothy started to laugh, “I suppose you are right.  It is quite a lot of work.  Perhaps you  are lucky after all, to made of straw.”  

As she said the words, she thought she heard a groan coming from behind her.  The scarecrow gave a little jump and Toto began to bark.

“What do you think that was?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know, I have never heard a sound like that before.”

Dorothy stood, leaving her pail and the funnel on the creek bank.

“There is is again!” she said.  It was louder this time.

Dorothy turned and began to walk slowly towards the sound.  Toto growled at her feet and the Scarecrow followed a few steps behind.

As she moved deeper into the forest, she thought she saw a glint of something on the ground.  It was covered in leaves and a heavy branch lay over it, but the sun was hitting it and she could see it glimmer in the morning light. Again she heard a moan, this time coming from the drift of leaves.

Toto ran up to it sniffing and growling, but then he began to dig and Dorothy saw more metal.

“What is it?” asked the Scarecrow.

“I’m not sure, can you move the branch?” 

While the Scarecrow lifted the wood, Dorothy knelt at the side of the pile and began brushing off the dirt and leaves. Underneath the leaves, she found an oddly shaped pile of metal.  It appeared to be a man made of tin, his body turned onto his left side, his face twisted into the dirt, his left arm twisted underneath him and buried in the ground.  Dorothy could see the shape of an axe extending from his hand.  

The man grunted a long moan, his mouth unmoving.  “Hlllllllmmmm Mmmmmm.”

Suddenly Dorothy remembered the strange can with the spout and the oil inside.  

“Oh!” She exclaimed, knowing now where she had seen it before.  Uncle Henry had one like it that he kept to keep the hitch on the wagon moving smoothly.  “I’ll be right back!”  She leapt to her feel and ran back to the cabin, grabbing the oil can from the stovetop and the thin blanket from the edge of the bed.

When she returned, she found that the scarecrow had removed the rest of the leaves.  The tin man was tarnished and covered in brown-orange rust. The man continued to groan, the words inside his mouth stretching out insistently. 

“Hllllmmmmm Mmmmm!”

“I’m going to help.  Is this what you need?” She asked and held the can up.

“MmmmHmmmm”

Dorothy poured a bit of oil on the tattered edges of the blanket and began to rub it into the corners of tin man’s mouth.  Rust rubbed off on the blanket, but in time the tin man’s lips began to open and close.  Dorothy poured more oil directly onto the joints at the jaw and rubbed with the blanket until the tin was shiny and smooth.

“Ahhhh, my mouth moves.” The tin man let out a great sigh of relief as he lay there on the ground.  “Will you oil my eyes?  They have sat open for so long.”

Dorothy careful ran the oil over the man’s eyelids and massaged with her cloth until they could close on their own.  

“Please, will you oil my neck?  I would like to turn my head again.”

Dorothy poured the oil at the base of the skull and around the jawline.  She poured the oil down the man’s spine.

“Scarecrow, I will rub the oil in with the cloth, but can you try to loosen the joints by moving them?”

And so while Dorothy went to oiling the man’s neck, Scarecrow gently tried to turn the head back and forth.  The rust and dirt was thick and, at first, the metal was frozen solid.  Scarecrow continued to work the metal as it began to squeak in protest.  Finally the Tin Woodman was able to turn his neck on his own.

As Dorothy began to oil the man’s shoulder, she asked him, “How ever did this happen to you?”

“I was chopping wood to keep the cabin warm when a storm came in from nowhere.  It was very cold and I was moving slowly.  It began to snow and suddenly, I was frozen in place from the ice.  I could not lift my axe. I could not take a single step.  I stood there while the rust took the place of the ice, growing thicker.  I waited for someone to come along, but no one ever did.  And then one day, I began to lean.  There was nothing I could do but wait.  Finally I fell over, my face pressed into the dirt.  I have watched the seasons pass as the leaves and dirt pile up around me.  I could not close my eyes.  I could only watch the passing of time.

Because of how he had fallen, Dorothy could only oil the tin man’s right side, and so she moved from his shoulder and arm, down to his hip, and finally his knee and ankle.  Scarecrow worked, bending each of the joints until the Woodman could do it on his own.  

“I’m not able to oil the parts of you against the ground, but once Scarecrow has your right side working, we will try to roll you on your back so that I can do the rest.”

Soon, Dorothy was working on the man’s left hip, and the man could sit.  And then he could stand.  Finally all of his joints had been oiled and the man, with the Scarecrow’s help, was able to stand.  

“I would have laid there forever if you hadn’t come along.  I am eternally grateful.  What has brought you to this forest?”

“We are going to see the Great Oz who lives in the Emerald City.  We were told to follow the yellow brick road and we came across your cabin.  It was dark and so we stayed the night.”

“Why are you going to see Oz?” asked the tin man.

“I am going to ask him to help me find my way home to Kansas.  And Scarecrow is going to ask him for a brain.”

The Tin Man stood silent for a moment and then asked, “Would it be possible that I come along?”

Chapters so far

NaNoWriMo Goals 2021

Day 1 – How Uncle Henry and Aunt Em find Dorothy

Day 2 – The tornado

Day 3 – Arriving in Munchkinland

Day 4 – The Munchkins and the good witch of the North

Day 5 – The Shoes and preparing for a journey

Day 6 – The Yellow Brick Road

Day 7 – Boq and the Birds

Day 8 – Helping the Scarecrow Down

Day 9 – Scarecrow’s Story

Today’s Curiosities

Vintage Oil Can Images

What Dogs Eat in the Wild

“If your heads were stuffed with straw, like mine, you would probably all live in the beautiful places, and then Kansas would have no people at all. It is fortunate for Kansas that you have brains.”

L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

Today’s Questions

Today I really began to wonder, what would it feel like to become aware as the Scarecrow was built? What sensations would he have and in what order would they awaken? The original “Oz” describes an order (which I have followed) but it doesn’t explain how this felt to Scarecrow. I also wondered, how would it feel for Scarecrow to just be left. How does this affect him? If his mouth and eyes were painted, what happened that they became gaping holes and a torn mouth? In the original, his mouth is painted on and so I (perhaps too logically, given the source material) wonder how he makes words. (I once had a teenager ask me what dinosaur I would own if I could own any. I told him a Brontosaurus and he reprimanded me, saying it was unrealistic due to the amount of food it would need. My concern over how a scarecrow talks with his painted on mouth is a bit like that.) I also wanted to know how he learned to talk and how he developed such good aim.

Chapter – Scarecrow’s Story and the Forest

Dorothy and Toto and the Scarecrow walked for hours along the yellow brick road.  In the land of the Munchkins, the road had been cared for.  It was smooth and clean and the bricks were in their proper places.  But as they walked, the edges of the road were no longer straight and the bricks began to show signs of wear.  The fruit trees had broken branches and the fields were overcome with weeds. Holes began to appear in the road where the bricks were missing and mud was splashed over their surface. 

There was no longer any fencing along the yellow road and the farms were set further and further back.  The homes looked worn and Dorothy did not see any Munchkins working in the fields.  The doors may have once been painted blue, but now the paint peeled.  Some doors were broken from their hinges and there were roofs that had caved in.  Dorothy sensed that they were being watched, but could never see any eyes looking out at them. 

The scarecrow, always walking in a straight line, began to fall.

“Scarecrow, do you see how Toto goes around the holes?”  Dorothy asked. 

“I am trying, Dorothy,” he would say, before tripping and falling again.

“Scarecrow, do you see how I am able to go around the holes?”

“I am trying, Dorothy.”  It was as if he could not see the danger.  

“Scarecrow, stop! There is hole in front of you,”  Dorothy warned. Scarecrow would stop but he did not seem to know how to go around the hole, and so Dorothy would move him into a safe position.

Toto ran ahead, not bothered at all by the rough road.  He seemed to take it as a game, jumping and leaping and wagging his tail.  Dorothy was watching Toto when the Scarecrow fell once again and landed directly on his face.

Dorothy caught her breath as she watched him hit the ground with a thump.  “Scarecrow, are you all right?” 

Scarecrow lay with his face on the ground.  Dorothy heard his muffled voice say, “I’m okay.”

She rolled him over and said, rather sharply, “Scarecrow, you must be more careful!  You scared me.”

“I’m sorry Dorothy. I see the spots in the road but it does not even occur to me that I might fall.  It is one of the problems with not having a brain, I suppose. I am sorry if I am slowing you down.”  He looked so sad that Dorothy promised herself that she would try to be more patient.

“You are not slowing me down, Scarecrow.  I just don’t want you to be hurt.”

“But I told you Dorothy, I can not get hurt.”

Once again, Dorothy picked Scarecrow up and put him to his feet.  Being made of straw and a broom, he was quite light.  

“Perhaps we should stop and have some supper.  I think I see a creek ahead, where the thicket of trees start,” said Dorothy.  

Dorothy took Scarecrow’s hand and guided him around the rough road.  

The creek was small but the water was clear and fresh.  Toto was waiting for them there, drinking deeply.  Dorothy unpacked the food, giving Toto a bit of meat and setting out cheese, bread, and fruit for herself.

The land was changing, it no longer seemed like farmland.  The trees were taller and the branches thicker.  Dorothy could see on the horizon very thick trees pressed together into a forest.  It appeared dark there, as though the sun, now moving lower in the sky, could not penetrate the leaves.  

“Would you like some bread or some cheese, Scarecrow?”

“I am made of straw, I do not feel hunger.  The food would have no where to go.  Tell me of your home Dorothy.”

“It is called Kansas,” and she began to tell him about the pale blue sky and how the earth was often dry.  She told him how the brightness of the colors here made everything seem gray there.  She told him of the storms that came suddenly and turned the sky green, and how it was one of those storms that picked her up and brought her here.  She told him of the grasshoppers that liked to eat their plants and how she did not have any friends there, because they lived so far from town and their neighbors.

Scarecrow asked, “If the land is grey, and the storms are fierce, and there are bugs, and you have no friends, why do you want to go back?”

“Because I haven’t told you about Uncle Henry or Auntie Em.  I haven’t told you of our horses, Shy and Brash.  I haven’t told you of the pigs and how the hens sing a song after they lay their eggs.”

“But why do those things matter?” asked the Scarecrow.

“Because I love them.”

“What is love?” 

“How do you…,” Dorothy had begun to ask how he could not know what love was, but caught herself, realizing that the Scarecrow had never known love.  He had never known anything but hanging from a post.  She started again, “Love is a feeling that you have inside of you.  It doesn’t matter what the world looks like around you. It doesn’t matter if the world is gray or if your home is small.  If you are with the people that you love, you feel like you are home.  And that is why I need to find my way back to Kansas.”

“What does it feel like when you feel love?” asked the scarecrow. 

“It makes you warm inside, and it makes your heart feel safe.  It makes you feel like you would do anything for that person.”

“Well then Dorothy, I love you.”

Dorothy smiled, “You don’t know me yet, we only met a few hours ago.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said the scarecrow.  “I feel warm inside when I am around you.  I feel like I would do anything to keep you safe.”

Dorothy reached over and squeezed the scarecrow’s hand. “Will you tell me the story of how you came to be hanging in the corn field?”

The scarecrow looked off into the distance. Finally, he started, “The first thing that I remember was pressure.  I think that this was when the man stuffed my head with straw and stuck the broomstick inside it to hold my head up.  All I could feel was a tightness that I couldn’t describe, only that I existed.  

Then, there was sound.  I couldn’t see, but I could hear.  I heard the voice of a man talking about fields and corn and birds.  You see, the first thing the man painted on my head was ears. I didn’t know what the words were, only that they sounded like music and they filled my head and I was happy.  

The next thing that the man gave me were eyes.  Suddenly the world wasn’t dark.  I saw a yellow light, but everything was blurry.  I saw the brush as it’s tip dotted my face.  As the paint dried, I saw the man.  I watched his mouth move as the sounds filled my head and I understood that the music was his voice.  We were in a room surrounded with brown boards and there were piles of hay against the wall.

Then he painted me a nose, and I began to smell the warm dust and the hay that was stacked around me.  I’ve come to know it as the smell of the land.  

Finally, he gave me a mouth, but it was only painted with red stain.  I did not know how to talk yet, only how to hear and see and smell.  I already had the pole in my head and I could see as he stuffed the pants with hay and wrapped the coat around me.  I watched as he put old boots on my feet and gloves on my hands.  

I could not move yet, I could only watch.  He sang to me the song that I sang to you.  Finally, he said, ‘Well, I think that you will scare the crows well enough.”  I felt proud; proud that I would do something well and proud to be in a body.  

Then he lifted me and carried me into the field. It was a far walk to where you found me.  He used a ladder leaning against the post and slid the wood up my back until I hung there, looking out at the waves of corn.  He filled my pockets with rocks.  “That is so that you don’t blow away in a storm,” he said.

And then he left.  I felt afraid and alone, surrounded by green in every direction.  I tried to get down from the pole, to run after him, but my arms only twitched a bit and my legs hung sadly.  I tried to call out to him, but my mouth was only painted on.  I managed to tear the fabric just a tiny bit, but I did not know how to speak. I could only groan through the hole.

The first sunset was beautiful, and I was grateful that he had left me facing that direction, but I was lonely.

In the beginning, the crows and the ravens left me alone, cawing from above.  They thought that I was a man, and they did not want me to chase them.  But in time, they knew that there was nothing I could do to them.  And so they began to eat the corn around me.”

“Were these the birds that tried to steal my food?” asked Dorothy.

“No.  Those are the Kaliemas.  They came later, after the crows.  The crows began to keep me company, but I felt guilty that I was not doing my job and keeping them from the corn.    One would sit on my shoulder and talk to me but I could only groan in response.  The more the crow spoke to me, the more I tried to speak in return. The more I tried to talk, the more my mouth tore open.  My voice became stronger with practice.  I practiced waving my hands and kicking my feet.  In the beginning the movements were tiny.  

The crows cheered my efforts and in their way, they were my friends.  But they were free and could fly away.  They told me what it was to think, to have a brain.  They told me that I was not much different than most men. They said that most men who have brains do not use them.  

You are lucky that you have a brain, Dorothy.  It is a terrible thing to have nothing in your head.

In time, the Kaliemas came.  They chased away the crows that were my friends.  They pecked away the paint at my eyes, but I could see more clearly, even in the dark.  I learned to throw the rocks in my pockets and was able to knock them out of the sky.  They left me alone, but again I was lonely.  Staring only at the sunsets.  

And then you came along.  And I am grateful that I was strong enough to throw the stones. I do hope that Oz will give me a brain.  I feel empty without one.”

“Even if Oz does not give you a brain, you are no longer stuck in the field. You can go anywhere that you want to.”

Dorothy packed up their food and they decided to continue on their way.  She was careful to guide the scarecrow away from the holes while Toto walked ahead. The trees thickened and soon they came to the dark forest.  The sun was low in the sky, but in the trees it was even darker.  

“Scarecrow, it’s starting to be too dark for me to see and we need to find a place to sleep.  You said that you can see in the dark. Will you look for a sheltered place for us to spend the night?”

“I will look,” he said.

She wrapped her right arm through the Scarecrows and felt Toto move next to her left ankle. 

“Scarecrow, I can not keep us from falling if we come to more holes in the ground.  You must tell me if you see something in the road.”

The scarecrow did his best to tell Dorothy what he saw.  Toto, who could see well in the dark, would stop and bark if anything was in their path.  In this way, they continued to move slowly through the dark forest.

“Dorothy,” said the Scarecrow, “There is a house on the side of the road.  It is set back a bit, covered in branches with trees growing up against it’s sides.  Do you want to go there?”

“Yes, please.  I am very tired.”

Scarecrow and Toto guided her to the door.  It was broken and hung from it’s hinges.  They went inside and the Scarecrow showed her to a corner that was covered with thick leaves.  Dorothy curled up and immediately fell fast asleep with Toto in her arms.  The Scarecrow stood nearby, watching over them as they slept, waiting for the sun to rise.

Chapters Up Until Now

NaNoWriMo Goals 2021

Day 1 – How Uncle Henry and Aunt Em find Dorothy

Day 2 – The tornado

Day 3 – Arriving in Munchkinland

Day 4 – The Munchkins and the good witch of the North

Day 5 – The Shoes and preparing for a journey

Day 6 – The Yellow Brick Road

Day 7 – Boq and the Birds

Day 8 – Helping the Scarecrow Down

Random Research

The Murderous 10-Foot-Tall Bird With a Beak Like a Pickax

“I cannot tell,” she returned; “but you may come with me, if you like. If Oz will not give you any brains you will be no worse off than you are now.”

L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

Today’s Questions

How would Dorothy get the scarecrow off a pole stuck up his back? Especially if he is much higher than her? What is holding the scarecrow together? Is there any internal structure? If he is mostly hay and you remove his coat, will he fall apart? What can Dorothy use to help her leverage the scarecrow off the post?

Oz – Chapter 4 continued

“Well, I think so,” said the scarecrow, “but I suppose I could be mistaken as I don’t have a brain.

“That’s impossible,” said Dorothy, “everyone has a brain.”

“Not everyone,” he responded sadly. 

“You must have a brain,” proclaimed Dorothy, “or how would you be able to talk?”

The scarecrow pulled a bit of straw from his mouth. “The man who made me talked while he worked, I suppose that is how.”

Dorothy looked up at him for a moment.  “How long have you been here?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  A very long time I would imagine.  I watch the sun set every night, but never learned to count.”

“You must be very lonely.”

“Yes, when the man first made me, he was my friend.  But then he hung me here.  I watch as they plant the seeds and the corn begins to grow. Every year, they come and pick the corn and pull the stalk to dry, but I think they have forgotten me.”

“Can’t you get yourself down?”
The scarecrow reached around with his left arm.  “The problem is that I can’t quite reach, and this post goes right up my back.  Would you mind, possibly, helping me down?  My back has been itchy for as long as I can remember, but my arms are simply not long enough.”

“Yes, of course.  Let me see…”  She walked around the back of the scarecrow, and just as he had said, the post went straight up the back of his coat and stuck out at the collar.  She walked back to the front and looked up at him.  “It seems that your coat is keeping you attached. You don’t, perhaps, have anything holding you together?  Under your coat?”
“Only straw, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I don’t think that I am tall enough to lift both you and your coat over the post, but I think that, if we were to unbutton your coat, perhaps you would just slip out?”

“I do not know how to unbutton,” responded the scarecrow.

“Do you mind if I try?” asked Dorothy.

“Please!”

  Dorothy stepped closer, “Watch what I am doing, so that you can learn and perhaps reach the top buttons yourself. I am afraid that I am too short and won’t be able to reach.” The first two buttons were just above her head.  “See, there is a hole in your coat that the button goes through.  You must push the button back through the hole, the way that it came.” 

The third and fourth required to Dorothy to stretch a bit.  The fifth, however, was difficult and Dorothy had to stand on her tiptoes. “I’m afraid that I won’t be able to reach the last two, I am very sorry.  Do you think, now that you have seen how it is done, that you could try?”

The scarecrow looked down at his chest and began to fumble with his gloved hands.  His hands were not coordinated, and he struggled to get the button through the hole.  Suddenly the button gave way and the scarecrow slipped down a bit, so that his legs hung lower and his sleeves pulled tight at his armpits. 

“I moved!” he said happily.  Suddenly, the top button tore from the old blue coat and the scarecrow came crashing to the ground, his arms still wrapped in the coat above.  

Dorothy jumped back as the poor scarecrow fell, but now rushed forward.  Toto, frightened, hung back at the edge of the corn stalks and gave a little yip.

“Poor scarecrow! Oh, your poor arms!”

The scarecrow, however, lay on the ground and smiled. “You have freed me!  Thank you.  I can not tell you how wonderful it is to not have that stick up my back.”

Dorothy was not sure what to say, for the scarecrow was in pieces.  His legs remained stuffed inside his pants, however the parts of him that had been stuffed into the coat lay scattered, spread out on the ground.  There seemed to be a long stick of some sort that had run through the center of his body, connecting his pants to his head.  His arms hung limp in the coat and she could see that the coat was hooked on a large nail on the back of the post.

“I’m sorry to say that you seem to have fallen apart,” said Dorothy quietly.

The scarecrow turned his head side to side on the top of the stick and finally seemed to see his arms hanging up above.

“I have been worse,” he said.  “If you could just get my coat down? I think that I can be put back together again.”

But try as Dorothy might, she could not get the coat off the nail.  She tried pulled on the coat, and pushing up on the scarecrow’s arms, but it remained firmed hooked.  Finally she sat down on the ground next to the scarecrows head.

“I need something to help me lift the coat from the nail. It needs to be strong because your arms are still stuck inside.  A stalk of corn might work, but I’m not sure that I can break it while it’s still green.  Do you have any ideas?”

“Would this broomstick work?”  He turned his head to look down at his body.

“Oh!  I can’t use that, it’s a part of you.”

“It’s not doing me any good laying here on the ground, and it won’t do my any good without my coat. You can just pull it from my head, and put it back in when you are done.”

So Dorothy, feeling very uncomfortable with the whole idea, pulled the broom stick from the scarecrows head.  

The scarecrow made a slight grown.

“Did I hurt you?” Dorothy asked, terrified to continue.

“No, it feels so good to not have that pressing into my head all the time.”

She placed his head upright on the ground so that he could see what she was doing. The other end was stuck into the top of his pants.  Dorothy realized the brush of the broom, old and worn, formed the scarecrows hips.  She untied a rope that had been wrapped around the waist like a belt, removing the broom.  Using the old broom bristles, she was easily able to lift the coat from the nail. As she brought it down, she heard clinking coming from one of the pockets.

“I got it!”

“Oh, thank you!” said the Scarecrow happily.

“Now, to put you back together.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me.  I feel pressure, like the stick in my neck, but I don’t feel pain.  It was only that the stick had been there for so long and was such a relief to have a break from it.”

Dorothy put the broom brush back into the pants and secured it with the rope.  Then she lay the coat on the ground with the arms sticking out to the sides and lined up the broom stick to the center of the coat.  She saw that one of the pockets was bulky as it lay there. Dorothy reached in and pulled out a handful of rocks. “Why do you have a pocket full of rocks?”

“When the man made me, he filled my pockets with rocks to keep the wind from picking me up and blowing me away.  Over the years, my aim has become quite good.”

Dorothy remembered the sound of the bird falling dead next to her head.

“Is that how you scared the birds away? Did you throw rocks at them.”

“Yes, they were going to hurt you and your friend.”

“Thank you for saving us.”

She picked up all the straw that had fallen from the ground and began to fill the body of the coat.  Because the straw was old, there didn’t seem to be enough to really fill out the chest.

“We need to find you more straw. Perhaps not right away, but soon.” She began to strip the leaves from the surrounding corn.  “This will do for now.”

Finally, the legs and the body were stuffed together. The coat was closed.  The top button could not be resown, but Dorothy did what she could, peeling twine from the rope at the scarecrows waist and wrapping it through the button hole.

“Are you ready to put your head back on your body? Perhaps I can make it a bit more comfortable for you?

She took the silk from the surrounding ears of corn and made a cushion at the top of the broom shaft, sliding the scarecrow’s head back on.

“That is quite nice!  Thank you,” said the scarecrow.  With his arms working again, he pushed himself into a sitting position. “It it smooth when I turn my head! Where were you going when the birds attacked?”

“I was on my way to the Emerald City to see Oz.”

“Who is Oz and what is the Emerald City?”

Dorothy was surprised.  The way the Munchkins had sounded, everyone knew of Oz.

“Oz is supposed to be a great wizard and the Emerald City is where he lives.  I’m going to ask if he can send me home, because I don’t know how to find my way on my own.”

“Can I come with you?” Asked the scarecrow, a bit shyly.

“Of course!  I wasn’t going to leave you here in the corn. Not unless you wanted to stay. Perhaps you could ask the wizard for a brain.”

The scarecrow’s torn smile grew across his face.  “Do you think that the Wizard would do that for me?  I want to be able to learn.  I hate that I am a fool.”

“I don’t think that you are a fool, scarecrow.  You saved me and you saved my dog, Toto.  But I don’t know if the wizard will help you.  I don’t know if he’ll help me.  I don’t know if they will even let us in to see him.  But you already don’t have a brain, so I’m not sure that things can get much worse for you.”

“Fire,” said the scarecrow, looking at his hands.

“Excuse me?” said Dorothy, confused.

“Fire.  That is how things could get worse for me.”

“Then I shall do my best to keep you from fire.”

Together they stood and made their way back to the fence.  Dorothy climbed over and helped the Scarecrow get through the wooden posts.  Toto stood ready, spinning in circles in the direction they were headed.  All three headed down the yellow brick road.  

Chapters so Far

NaNoWriMo Goals 2021

Day 1 – How Uncle Henry and Aunt Em find Dorothy

Day 2 – The tornado

Day 3 – Arriving in Munchkinland

Day 4 – The Munchkins and the good witch of the North

Day 5 – The Shoes and preparing for a journey

Day 6 – The Yellow Brick Road

Day 7 – Boq and the Birds

Research Questions I had today

How to Plant and Grow Corn

Parts of a Broom Explained

Corn Silk – Wikipedia

“…and the figure was raised above the stalks of corn by means of the pole stuck up its back.”

L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

Questions before I write

I wanted to make this scarier and so far, I haven’t done that. How do I make this scarier? Or at least a bit more unsettling? How do I make Scarecrow even more important to Dorothy so that she trusts him more than she might fear him. To a little girl from Kansas, a walking, talking Scarecrow seems a bit scary. What if there are crows… but this is Oz, so not quite crows. Not quite ravens. (I am a huge fan of crows and ravens, some of my favorite birds, I hang out with them at home all the time.) Something that could be scarier to a little girl alone in a cornfield.

Chapter 4 continued

Dorothy awoke the next morning, cozy, with Toto snuggled next to her.  She was under the thick covers now, but still in her gingham blue and white dress. Her bonnet had been neatly folded on a chair and her silver slippers sat on the floor next to the bed.  She stretched and noticed the soft glow of light coming into her room.  Despite being deep under the hill, there was a small window that glowed and lit the space. 

She made her way up the long hallway, smelling something deep and rich, and found her way to the kitchen.  It had a large circular window that overlooked the fields below.  The ceiling was beamed with tree roots.  A very small Munchkin child, no larger than Toto, crawled about on the rock tiled floor wearing a diaper of soft, fuzzy leaves.  The child laughed in delight as Toto danced around him, wagging his tail.  The table was set with meats and cheeses and eggs, pies from the night before, fruits and juices.  A small Munchkin woman with deep auburn hair curling past her waist was washing dishes at the sink, and upon seeing Dorothy, brought her a plate and a cup.

“Eat as much as you like.  You are welcome here.  Our food is yours.”

Dorothy thanked her, filling her plate, and began to eat. Toto was given a plate of meats, which he quickly devoured, and then returned to playing with the baby.  The woman watched with a smile, and soon sat down on the floor to play with them both.

“We do not have this creature here.  What do you call it?”

“Toto?”

“He is a Toto then?”

“No, I mean, Toto is his name.  He’s called a dog where I come from.”

Boq came through the door, smiling at the woman and the child.  He bent down and kissed her on the top of the head before picking the babe up and kissing him on the cheek.

“Good morning wife.  There are Munchkins asleep out on the grass, but the sun is strong and I think they shall wake up soon.”  The baby squirmed to get back down to Toto. Boq chuckled, placed the baby back down on the floor, and sat at the table next to Dorothy. He began to fill a plate of his own.

“Perhaps we should have good strong chocolate for them when they wake,” she responded, “to help them on with their day.”  She stood and left Toto with the child, going to a large stove and stirring a pot filled with a dark liquid.

“Must you leave today, then?” He asked Dorothy in his deep, rich voice.

“Yes, thank you so much for giving me a place to stay, but I must find my way home.  Do you know how far it is to the Emerald City from here?”

“I’m sorry, I do not.  We have been under the control of the witch for so long, I have never known a time without her taking our crops.  In the early times, there were Munchkins who went to Oz for help, but they were refused entry at the gate.  They were told that Oz would not interfere with the affairs of the witches.  But we were still able to live our lives, grow our plants.  We live simple lives, but we have food and drink and even under the witch’s control, our children did not starve.” He looked at the child on the floor.

The woman looked at Dorothy from the stove, “It is a very long and dangerous journey.  Oz may not see you, are you sure you won’t stay?”

Dorothy started to respond, but Boq interrupted, “You think that Oz is gentle because you have only seen the land of the Munchkins.  Our land is beautiful, but when you leave here, it will become treacherous.  There are things that even Locasta’s kiss can not protect you from.  I see her kiss shining on your forehead.”

Dorothy felt afraid and touched the spot where the good witch had kissed her.  She wondered what it would be like to stay here, but she kept seeing Auntie Em’s eyes as she looked at Dorothy from the storm cellar, screaming Dorothy’s name.  “When I was in Kansas, a great storm came and took me away from my Uncle and my Aunt.  Your land is so beautiful and I am afraid of what will happen to me and Toto on the way, but if my aunt and uncle are okay, then I know that they are looking for me.  I want to see them again in my life, and that’s why I can’t stay.”

Boq and his wife looked at her quite sadly, but they said nothing more about her journey.  Boq’s wife refilled Dorothy’s pail with food from the table and they said their goodbyes.

Dorothy found herself once again on the road of yellow brick.  She knew from what direction she came, but checked to be sure that Oz’s eye pointed her way.  Toto ran at her heels.

Dorothy walked for many hours, watching the landscapes change, the houses became further and further spread out.  She soon found herself walking between fields of corn, the stalks still green, the ears just beginning to grow heavy.  A wooden fence separated the corn from the road  on each side and Dorothy noticed her stomach beginning to grumble.

“Shall we have a bit of dinner?” Asked Dorothy.  Toto sat and wagged his tail.

Dorothy hung the pail from the top of a post and sat next to it on one of the fence beams.  As she opened it, a black bird landed on the fence across from her.  It reminded her of the crows at home, but bigger.  Bigger than a raven as well.  Dorothy thought it even bigger than the largest of the hawks she had ever seen.

“Hello,” she said to the bird.  It stared at her, unmoving. 

Another bird landed on the fence across from her.  Large, like the first, and now she saw that it’s eyes were a shade of red mixed with black.  It’s black feathers, glossy, were deep red at the tips.  It’s claws were more like talons and gripped the wood, cutting into it.  

Another landed on top of the post where Dorothy hung her pail and pulled the cloth from the top, exposing the food.  Toto began to growl and tried to move between the bird and Dorothy.

“Shoo!” She yelled at it, and waved her arms.  She was still sitting on the fence, and the bird lifted only a bit, but then came back to the pail. She reached up to remove it from the post when the large bird pecked her hand.

“Ouch!  You leave me alone!” She grabbed the pail and jumped from the fence. The bird eyed her.  “Toto I think it’s time for us to go.”  She looked at her hand, a bead of blood rising to the surface. As she turned away, she realized that the long fence across from where she had been sitting was now lined with birds, for as far as the eye could see.  They all watched her, silent.  Hundred of birds, sitting shoulder to shoulder.

Dorothy held the pail in her left hand and scooped Toto up in her right, holding him tight to her chest.  He did not squirm or try to get away.  She began to walk, keeping her back straight.  She wanted to run, but did not want to seem afraid.  She walked slowly and with purpose.  After only three or four steps, one of the black birds flew from the fence to the brick directly in front of her.  There it sat.

When she tried to go around it, another bird fluttered to the ground before her, and then another.  They were as tall as her knees.  She turned, but the birds had landed behind her as well, blocking either direction.  The yellow brick road appeared black, covered with these giant, silent birds.  She stood, looking around, not knowing what to do or which way to turn when suddenly a single bird let out a loud caw.  

It seemed to be a signal as all of the birds suddenly took flight, screaming and cawing in the air above Dorothy.  The sun was blocked out as birds flew around her head, she could feel the wind from their wings on her skin.  She fell to the ground, protecting Toto with her body, covering her head with her hands. There were pecks to the top of her head, her hair felt like it was being pulled from the braids.  

She began to wail an inaudible cry of help, when suddenly she heard a yell that seemed to come from the corn field.  

“Leave her be!” It demanded in a low and craggily voice.  “Leave her be!”

She heard a squawk and a thump and a bird fell to the ground next to her.  And then another squawk, and another.  The pounding wings lifted and the air became silent other than the voice.

“Are you okay, Miss?”

Dorothy peeked out from under her now tangled hair, but saw no one.  There was a dead bird laying in front of her, a trickle of blood running from it’s eye.  All the other birds were gone and she was alone with Toto huddled beneath her.

Dorothy sat up, the contents of her pail had spilled, but nothing seemed to have been stolen.  She gathered the food up, Toto pressed to her side, shaking.  She was shaking too and struggled to return the cloth to the pail.

Then she began to cry.  Not the silent tears that had so often come to her in this land, but loud, sobbing cries that filled the air.  When there seemed to be no tears left and Dorothy was finally able to catch her breath, the voice once again spoke.

“Are you okay?”  It was deep and old.

“Where are you?” Asked Dorothy.  

“I am in the field, you can’t see me from there.  The corn is blocking your way.”

“Can you come out of the corn?”

“I’m afraid not miss, I’m a bit stuck at the moment. But if you feel like you can, you can come to me.”

Dorothy didn’t like the idea of climbing through the corn, especially after what had just happened, but she felt she needed to thank whoever was speaking.  She wasn’t sure how they had made the birds leave, but they had.  She needed to thank them properly, and if they were stuck, as they said, perhaps she could help them.

She took her pail and turned to the corn, Toto back at her feet.

“Could you please say something, so that I can follow you voice and find you?” Asked Dorothy.

“What would you like me to say?” Responded the voice, and Dorothy could hear that the voice came from her right, beyond the corn.

“Anything, really,” she responded and crawled through the fence and into the tall stalks.

“The Munchkin who made me used to sing a song, would that be okay?”

“Oh, yes, that would be perfect,” responded Dorothy.  

As she made her way through the corn, the voice began to sing in a deep baritone, 

“The corn grows,

The day is long,

The sun will set, 

My day is done,

My life for the earth,

My dreams to the wind,

I wake up,

And start again.”

Dorothy followed the voice through the tall stalks. As the verse ended, she found herself entering a small clearing. A post of faded, splintering wood stood in the center and there, stuck at the top, was a scarecrow.  It’s head was made of an old woven sack with stitches along the edges roughly holding it together.  It was filled with dried grasses which stuck out between the seams and beneath the neck.  The eye holes were ripped into the fabric and lined with dark stain, looking deep and hollow.  The mouth was a slit cut sharply and then sewn open with red faded stitching along the edges. It did not have a nose, only a dark smear where it should have gone. It wore a tattered blue coat, buttoned up the front and fading blue woven pants. There was a grass hat in the style of the Munchkin people, but they had been small and Dorothy realized that this scarecrow was certainly much bigger than she was.  The scarecrow wore old grey gloves and shoes filled with holes, the soles hanging off.

She looked around, not knowing where the person could have gone.

“You’ve found me!”

Dorothy gave a startled jump, for the voice seemed to come from the scarecrow.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see you.  Could you please sing your song again.”

“But you are standing right in front of me,” said the scarecrow, and this time Dorothy saw his gaping mouth move.

“Oh!  Is it really you that is talking to me?”
“Well, I think so,” said the scarecrow, “but I suppose I could be mistaken as I don’t have a brain.

“That’s impossible,” said Dorothy, “everyone has a brain.”

“Not everyone,” he responded sadly. 

Research

Anatomy and Reproduction of Corn

Talons vs Claws: What’s the difference?

Chapters leading to this one

Intro to NaNoWriMo and this year’s plan

Day 1 – How Uncle Henry and Aunt Em find Dorothy

Day 2 – The tornado

Day 3 – Arriving in Munchkinland

Day 4 – The Munchkins and the good witch of the North

Day 5 – The Shoes and preparing for a journey

Day 6 – The Yellow Brick Road

Questions I had for today

If the Emerald City is in the middle of the land of Oz, then the lands to the North, South, and West must also have roads leading them there. Would they also be yellow/gold? It would make more sense for them to have another color so that you know which land you are heading to if the yellow road leads to the East. Also, the movie (and movies after) like to make it seem like the yellow brick road magically starts where Dorothy is. Wouldn’t it start somewhere else? So how would you know which direction the Emerald City is in? In the book we meet Boq, a Munchkin landowner who gives Dorothy a place to sleep for the night. They skip this in the movie, and I understand because not much happens. I’m going to write it and rework it to stay true to the elements of the story… just not sure it needs it. Tell me what you think in the comments.

Chapter 4 continued, in which Dorothy starts on her way

The two girls walked with Dorothy into the field of tall yellow grasses with Toto following behind.  The grasses stood taller than Dorothy herself, and yet the girls, standing only at Dorothy’s waist, seemed comfortable in this hidden, yellow world.  They let go of Dorothy’s hand and the girl with the blonde hair took the lead, parting the grasses before them.  Her hair was the exact shade as the grass and she seemed to disappear.  The girl with the red hair went second and Dorothy was grateful.  The red of the roses and the brightness of her hair stood out against the yellow grass and she did not lose track of the young Munchkin.  Toto yipped behind her and Dorothy realized that Toto was struggling to make his way in the tall grasses, so she bent for a moment and lifted him, cradling him in her arms.  They continued for some time until suddenly, without warning, the grass ended and Dorothy found in front of her a road of yellow brick.  It stretched to her left and to her right and she could not see where it came from or where it was going.

The blonde girl stood in the center of the road, smiling as Dorothy emerged from the grass.  

“Munchkin land sits in the East of Oz, this road will take you where you want to go.  If you are ever unsure, you can look at the bricks.”

Dorothy looked down and noticed that each of the bricks had a stamp pressed into it.   The letter Z surrounded by the letter O, forming the center part of an eye.  The eyes all sat positioned on the same part of the brick, as if looking to Dorothy’s left.

The girl with the red hair said, “It is to remind us that the great Oz is always looking after us and that should we need him, his eye will lead the way.” 

“If you are ever unsure on which direction to go, just look at the bricks and they will show you.”

Dorothy thanked the girls and they each hugged her with their tiny arms which could barely reach around her legs.  

The girl with the red hair took one of the roses from her hair and placed it in Dorothy’s food bucket. “You will always have a place here, if you wish to return.”  And with that, the girls disappeared back into the grasses and Dorothy did not see them again.

Dorothy put down Toto and they began to walk.

The tall grasses which lined the yellow brick road reminded Dorothy of Kansas, and she began to feel almost at home. In time, the fields of grass stopped and Dorothy began to see farms of brightly colored vegetables, rich rows of green and blue and red and yellow.  There were large squashes and long winding vines.  She began to see Munchkins working in the fields.  They did not disappear in the way that they had earlier, and yet they seemed to belong to the land.  Their clothes mimicked the textures of the plants and some wore a type of grass hat which protected their faces.  All of the little people she passed stopped what they were doing to wave at her or to whisper to another Munchkin.  Occasionally a child would come to the yellow brick to give her a treat or a drink of water.  Tiny women, coming only as high as her chest would come and hug her, tears in their eyes.  Men working in the fields would nod their heads as she passed.

She began to see the homes of the Munchkins.  The homes fit into the land as perfectly as the little people did, made of dirt and stone and grass.  However, the doors were all blue.    

Dorothy and Toto continued to walk as the sun lowered in the sky.  She wondered where they would sleep that night when she began to hear music and laughter in the distance.  As the sun set, she saw the blooming of little lights along the horizon.  She decided she and Toto would continue to walk until they came to the lights, and would decide where to sleep then.

Dorothy soon came to a party.  The home was grander than any she had seen so far.  The home itself seemed to be dug into the side of a hill, but the hill itself was filled with windows and doors painted blue.  There were trees planted upon the hill with lights strung between then, stretching out into long orchards.  Standing upon the top of the hill were musicians playing different stringed instruments. Some of the instruments were held against the necks of the Munchkins and they used bows to pull the music from the strings.  Other’s had instruments taller than they were which sat on the ground, the munchkins plucking the strings.  Some played little pipes in their mouths and still other clapped and stomped, others banged on pots and pans.   All along the slopes of the hill were little people dancing to the music. 

The little Munchkin people were very excited to see Dorothy, for they were celebrating the death of the witch.  They were celebrating their freedom.  Dancing, they came to her.  They took her hands, hugging her, thanking her for freeing them.  They danced around her.  Finally, they pulled her to the banquet table which was lined with more food than Dorothy had ever seen in her life.  The table was piled high with sweets of every kind, with cakes and pies and pastry.  Fruits and cheeses, different colors of bread from deep brown to the palest cream.  There was a pot of sweet smelling drink and when a glass was put in her hand, she drank deeply. It warmed her from the inside, filling her nose with the smell of unfamiliar spices.

After she had eaten and drank her fill, she was taken inside to meet the Munchkin who owned this land.  His name was Boq. He sat in a room, alone, surrounded by a library of books. He stood to greet Dorothy when she came in. He was a bit taller than the other Munchkins with deep black hair and seemed neither old nor young. Dorothy noticed that he looked at her feet before giving her a chair, thick and soft and covered in deep blue fabric.  Toto jumped up into her lap and immediately fell asleep. 

“Welcome to my home,” said Boq in a deep, soothing voice. Dorothy could hear the music from above them on the hill and the dancing feet around them. “You must be a very powerful sorcerer to be able to wear the shoes of the witch of the East.”

“I am not a sorcerer,” she replied.  “I am only a little girl.”

“The shoes are powerful.  They allow you to wear them.  That means you must be a witch.”  

“I’m not a witch,” Dorothy repeated.

“You are wearing white on your dress,” he said. “In Oz, only witches wear white.”

“My Auntie Em made me this dress, it was all that I had to wear. And it is not only white, it is blue as well.”

“Yes,” said Boq.  “It was very kind of you to wear the color of the Munchkins.  It tells us that you are a good witch, kind to our people.”

Dorothy remembered the blue of the doors, saw the blue of the chair she sat on.  “Is that why the houses I’ve seen all have blue doors?”

Boq smiled.  “Blue doors tell other Munchkins that they are welcome.  We care for each other and we care for the land.”

At this point, Dorothy began to yawn.  The chair was very soft, her tummy was very full, and Toto was very warm.

“You are tired,” said Boq. “Would you do us all the great honor and allow us to give you a bed for tonight?”

“Yes, I would be very grateful.”  Dorothy’s eyes were beginning to droop.

Boq stood, and Dorothy, cradling Toto in her arms, was led to a room far back beneath the hill.  She could still hear the music playing, but it felt like a lullaby.  The blanket on the bed was a deep blue, the sheets were a softer shade.  She sat on the edge of the bed, swaying to the soft music.

“I will have one of the ladies bring you a sleeping gown, and water to wash up” but Dorothy could not stay awake.  She laid her head on the pillow, not even pulling back the covers.  She was asleep before she could say goodnight, Toto curled up at her side.  

Links

No research today as this section has moved into the fantasy, I didn’t need to look anything up. But here are links to last chapters.

Intro to NaNoWriMo and this year’s plan

Day 1 – How Uncle Henry and Aunt Em find Dorothy

Day 2 – The tornado

Day 3 – Arriving in Munchkinland

Day 4 – The Munchkins and the good witch of the North

Day 5 – The Shoes and preparing for a journey

Questions for today –

In the book, shoes are silver, in the movie they are “ruby” slippers. Do I want to keep them silver? Something different? (I’m sure they made them ruby in the movie to show off the technicolor technology.).

Chapter 3

At the corner of the house, where the remains of the witch had lain, the grass lay blackened and dead.  Where there had been black liquid along the base of the house, the wood appeared burned and was beginning to crumble. The form of her legs were imprinted into the grass,  but the legs themselves were gone.  There laid her shoes, where the witch’s feet had once been, reflecting the green of the grass and the shining blue of the sky.  

“Where did she go?” whispered Dorothy.

“She was so old, she was really nothing but dust.  Now that her spirit is gone, there is nothing left to hold her together.  She burned her mark on the land. However, she has left you her shoes.”

“Oh no!” proclaimed Dorothy.  “I musn’t.”

Two munchkins, even smaller than the others, with rosy cheeks and unlined faces, ran to the shoes and picked them up, one each, bringing them to Dorothy.  

“Please take them,” the first said.  She stood only to Dorothy’s waist and had long red braided hair filled with red roses.  

“Please!  She was very proud of her shoes and never took them off!” said the other, her hair was yellow like hay and was woven with grass.

From somewhere in the crowd, another voice spoke up, this one low and gravely.  “There is magic in the shoes.”  

And another voice, a woman’s, “But we don’t know how they work.”

Dorothy realized that the shoes were silver, like the silverware at their dinner table.  Only they shimmered with light and Dorothy could almost see her own reflection in them.  They were not hard though, not solid like a fork or a spoon.  Dorothy reached out to them and felt that they were soft to her touch, almost like her feather pillow.  She did not feel she could say no to these children, if that was what they were.  She put Toto down, and took the shoes.

“Thank you,” she said to the two little girls, then raising her eyes, she looked at all the little people hidden in and around the woman’s skirts.  “Thank you all.  Could any of you, please, show me how to get home?  My uncle Henry and Auntie Em must be very worried about me.  And I am scared for them, I am so afraid that the tornado hurt them.”  As she said the words, she felt her heart get heavy and a knot so large it filled her throat.  Her eyes filled with tears and she felt her jaw begin to tremble. 

The little people looked at her, her sadness seemed to reflect on their faces.  The two little Munchkin girls had tears reflecting in their eyes.  When she looked at the good witch, her face had become quite serious.  

A young man’s voice came from the crowd, “In the East, it is said that there are great mountains of fire that flow like rivers.  There are beasts that crawl on all fours with the sharpest of teeth.  No one who has gone there has ever returned.”

Another voice from the crowd, this one shaking and frail said, “And to the south live the Quadlings.  Beyond them is a line of water that no one can pass.  There is nothing beyond the water, for it goes on forever.  I saw it once, when I was a child.  You can not go that way.”

This time, the girl with the red hair said, “You can not go to the West, that is where the wicked Witch lives.  She rules the Winkies.  The land is dry there and water is very hard to find.  You will die with nothing to drink. If she finds you, she will control you and make you her slave.  Please do not go to the West.”  The girls eyes were wide and scared.  

Then the good witch spoke, “And my home is to the North at the edge of sharp cliffs and deep ravines surrounded by misty air.  Beyond my castle are only the great birds, which fly on the currents.  There are none that can cross the great chasms.  I have ridden on their back, but the sky does not end.”

The tears finally fell from Dorothy’s eyes.  Toto whined at her feet, looking up at her.  “I want to go home.” She began to hiccup, trying to hold back her sobs.

Locasta reached out to touch Dorothy’s face, taking one of her tears onto the tip of her finger.  She brought the tear close to her own face, examining it, turning it to the right and to the left.  Gently she blew on the tear, Dorothy’s hiccups slowed and were replaced with growing wonder.  The tear that the woman had blown on became wisps of steam, forming a shape in the air between them.  The Munchkins were silent as they watched what took form before them.  Dorothy saw herself, she stood on a yellow brick road and in the distance was a great city.  

“Where is that?” Asked Dorothy.

“That is the Emerald City.  You are to go there.  I do not know that they will allow you to enter, but this vision tells me it is the direction you are to take.  You must ask to speak to Oz, perhaps he will help you.  Perhaps not.  

“Is he kind?” Asked Dorothy.  

“He is a wizard, I do not know if he is kind.  But he is powerful.”

“Can you show me how to get there?”

“I can show you the path to take, but I can not go with you.”

“Please, I’m afraid,” said Dorothy.

“I will give you a kiss of protection,” said the witch.  “While you will often be scared, for the journey will be long and treacherous, the kiss will mark you as one of my children.  Other’s will not harm you when they see my kiss upon your brow.”

Locasta came forward, her kiss felt like a gentle breeze across Dorothy’s forehead.  The kiss left a shimmer of light. 

“When you are ready, my children will walk you to a road paved in yellow bricks of gold.  The road will guide your way.  When you arrive at the gates of the city, you must tell them that Locasta, good witch of the north, has demanded that they allow you entry.  They will see my mark upon your forehead and know that you are telling the truth.  If they allow you entry, and Oz agrees to see you, you must not act afraid.  Tell him that you killed the witch of the east.  Tell him that you wish to go home.”

“What if refuses to help me?”

Locasta looked at her for a moment, and again Dorothy saw her age shadowed beneath the smooth translucent glamor.  “Then you will have a choice to make.  You can stay in the Emerald City, for it is very beautiful.  You can make the long journey along the yellow brick road and come and live in your home with the Munchkins. I believe you will come to love them in time, and I believe that they already love you.  Or, you may come and stay with me in the North.”

“But what about Uncle Henry and Aunt Em?”

“Follow the path to the Emerald City, Dorothy.  Ask Oz for help.”  Locasta began to back away, her children moving with her. They disappeared into the surrounding flowers and trees, as if they had never been.  Locasta’s dress shimmered as she moved towards the creek, and Dorothy found it difficult to see her as she moved through the trees, until finally Dorothy could not see her at all.  Could not see any of them.  She looked at the silver shoes in her hand and went back into her home to prepare for her journey.  

Chapter 4

Dorothy set the silver shoes onto the table, sinking into a chair next to them.  She stared at them for a moment and then heard her tummy growl.  How many hours, or days, had it been since they had last eaten?  She went to the cupboard and found a bit of stale bread.  There was a small glass of honey left over from the end of last summer, when Uncle Henry had collected it.  She spread the honey on the dry bread, but realizing how hard it had become, soon licked it off and gave the last bit to Toto.  He lay on the floor, gnawing it as best as he could. 

A knock came on the door, and when she went to answer, found a bowl of beautiful fruit and a fresh loaf of bread, still hot.  Next to the bread sat a crock of butter and a large piece of cheese.

“Thank you,” she called to the little people. In response, she heard what sounded like a song on the breeze.

Dorothy took an empty pail, Toto at her side, and walked to the river, collecting water to drink.  It was far clearer than anything she had ever seen from the well on the farm.  She watched little fish dart about under the surface with stones that shimmered like precious crystals.

She and Toto returned to the house and feasted until their stomachs were quite full.  Dorothy looked around the only home she had ever known.  She was afraid to leave.  She was afraid to stay.  And so she packed the food that was left into a dinner pail and wrapped it with a gingham cloth.  She went to the creek and washed her face and hands in the cold fresh water.  When she returned, she brushed and braided her hair.  She had one other dress, washed thin, but pretty and clean, hanging on the hook above her bed.  She changed into the clean dress, a dress of blue and white gingham that Auntie Em had made for her.  Over the top, she put on a little white apron with pockets and a matching bonnet over her hair.

Then she looked down at her feet.  Bare and dirty, covered in calluses.  They were the feet of a farm girl who only wore shoes when the weather was cold.  She was embarrassed to wash them in the clear creek.  There was a bit of water left in the pail, so she took her old dirty dress and began to scrub away the grim.  When her feet were clean, she sat back at the table and stared at the shoes.  

“Do you think they will fit me, Toto?”

Toto gave a single bark.  

She picked the right shoes, twisting and turning it.  It reflected the darkness of the room.    Then she placed it on her feet and was surprised that it did, indeed, fit.  She put on the other shoe.  It was if someone had made them just for her.  Standing in them, they were soft and comfortable but also felt sturdy.  She picked up the pail of food and started for the door.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Well, Toto, it seems that our journey is to begin.  You are the best partner I could ask for.”

Toto ran to the door and barked, his tail wagging excitedly.  

Dorothy took a key from the cupboard and slipped it into the apron pocket.

When she opened the door, the two little Munchkin girls were standing on the stoop.  They waited for her as she turned, locking the door, and placing the key back into her pocket.  The red haired girl took the pail from Dorothy, and then took Dorothy’s hand in her own.  The blonde haired girl took her other hand and they led her away, down a path, through the flowers and trees, over a little bridge at the creek, and into a field of tall yellow grasses.  

This is a continuation of Chapter 3 in which Dorothy meets the Munchkins and the good witch of the north.

Questions I have before starting…

How do the Munchkins REALLY look? I don’t want the movie portrayal, and the book feels a bit like old Dutch paintings, but smaller. Plus, there are only 2 Munchkins in the book, standing with the good witch who doesn’t look much different from them. I want more and I want them to be different than we expect from the ingrained images of the film. What do they wear? What about the good witch of the north? The book never gives her a name and the movie combined her with Glinda, who is actually the good witch of the South. How does Dorothy feel about accidentally killing someone? Would she want to wear these shoes?

If you are just catching up, I’ve included links to the previous chapters below.

Raw writing – Day 4

Chapter 3 continued, in which Dorothy meets the Munchkins

Dorothy noticed movement around her, from behind the trees and within the flowers.  Eyes, watching her; she stepped back into the darkness of the house.  As she stepped back, they began to step forward, stepping out from where they had hidden naturally among the plants.  Dorothy had rarely seen other people, living isolated with Uncle Henry and Auntie Em, but occasional they had visitors from neighbors who lived near them.  Those were always adults, tall and strong like her uncle and aunt. And once, Uncle Henry had taken her to see kittens that had just been born at a nearby farm.  That was the first time she had seen other children, the family having 3 smaller than her.  The people here were smaller still, but they did not look like the children.  They looked like like little adults, like Uncle Henry and Aunt Em, but shrunken so that there heads would perhaps come to her chest.   Like the plants they came out of, they had flowers and sticks in their hair.  It appeared as if the plants grew there.  Their clothes mimicked the color of the grass and the trees and the creek so that even when she looked directly at them, she had to focus to keep them from disappearing into their surroundings.  Some of them had skin smooth and young like the petals, but other’s were lined like the bark of the trees and still others seemed angular and hard like the stones of the creek. 

“You can come out,” she heard a voice say. It sounded soft and airy and yet was strong and clear. She saw a woman, taller than the rest but not much taller than Dorothy herself.  The woman was walking from the creek, past the trees, and towards her.  She wore a gown of fabric that floated as she walked, as if it were alive.  It shimmered like the sun shining on the stream while taking on the light of whatever she passed.  Her hair was long and gossamer white, rippling over the fabric of her dress as if it was a part of the breeze. She reminded Dorothy of the butterflies at the farm.  

As the woman came closer, Dorothy could see deep lines set around her eyes and mouth, yet as the woman moved, the wrinkles would shimmer in and and out of sight.  The woman’s skin was like the fabric, translucent and changing.  As she came closer, the little people also moved closer, coming in from all angles.  Dorothy stepped further into the dark protection of the house.

The woman stopped a few feet in front of the house door.  Looking around at the little people, she said, “She won’t hurt you.” The little people stepped closer still, cuddling in close to the woman and close to each other.  They gathered around her, tucking themselves into her  flowing skirts, the glimmer of their eyes making the fabric sparkle.  It looked almost as if a garden of many colors had grown directly in front of her, extending from this woman.

The woman looked directly at Dorothy, hidden behind the doorframe.  “Please come out.  My children would like to thank you.”  Her voice floated in the air, everywhere at once. 

Dorothy took a step forward, and remembering Toto, looked to see him hiding behind her legs.  She scooped him up into her arms and stepped just beyond her door, into the sunlight.  

“Your children?” asked Dorothy, for there were many of these little people while some appeared young, others appears lined and ancient.

“Oh yes,” said the woman and laughed lightly.  Her laughter made the little people giggle which made Dorothy want to laugh herself.  “While they are not born of me, I love them each as my own and I take care of them in whatever way that I can.”  

Dorothy didn’t know what to say and so said nothing.

The woman watched her for a moment and then said, “You are welcome here, sweet enchantress.  These people, my children, wish to thank you for setting them free.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you mean?  Where am I?” asked Dorothy.

“Why, you are in the land of the Munchkin people.  They are of the land and the land is of them.” 

“I don’t know what you mean that I have set them free?”

There was a murmur that went through the little people, sounding to Dorothy like the wind through the grasses in Kansas.  The little people were leaning and whispering into each other’s ears.

“Quiet now,” said the woman and the people were quiet. “Sweet Enchantress, you have killed the woman that held my children in slavery.

Dorothy felt a sting of these words, and immediately began to protest.  “I haven’t killed anyone!”

“But you have,” the woman said gently.  “Look!”

Dorothy followed the woman’s gaze to her left, and there at the far corner, trapped between her house and the ground were the remains of two legs, a dark liquid spreading along the edges of the old wood.  

Dorothy felt a knot in her belly, the knot beginning to rise into her throat.  She held it down and whispered, “I didn’t mean to.”

The woman laughed and Dorothy looked up sharply meeting her gaze.  Dorothy had never seen eyes like hers, the colors seemed to shift and swirl.  Dorothy felt like they were looking not only at her, but inside of her.

“Perhaps not, but she is dead all the same.  Do you not see her lovely shoes?”

Dorothy could see the shoes, but she was disgusted and more deeply, she was ashamed.  “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to control the shake within her voice.  She wished to crawl back under the covers of the bed, but instead she stood holding Toto, staring at the woman and her children.  

“Why are you sorry?” asked the woman.  “There is nothing to apologize for.  She was wicked and kept my children under her spell.  While she controlled them, there was nothing I could do.  You have given them their lives again.  They thank you.  I thank you.”

“Who was she?” asked Dorothy.

“The wicked witch of the East.  She ruled this land and all the creatures in it.  But now that she is dead, they are set free.  Are you here to rule this land?” asked the women.

“No!  Of course not!  I’m only a child,” responded Dorothy, shocked.

“It is yours by right, if you wish it.”

“I don’t wish it.  If these are your children, perhaps you should rule them?”

“I do not rule the Munchikins, only look after them.  My land is in the North.  When you killed the wicked Witch of the East, they sent word and I came immediately.”

“I didn’t kill her!” Dorothy proclaimed, but then looked to her left and saw the feet and dropped her head.  “I am very sorry to kill anyone, but I am glad your people are free.  Why didn’t you set them free?”

“Oh, I am not as powerful as the evil witch of the East was. You must be a very powerful enchantress to have been able to kill her.”

“I didn’t mean to kill her!” responded Dorothy.  There was silence between them for a moment.  “I am not powerful, I am only a little girl.”

“Well then you are even more powerful than I first believed, for you are a child enchantress.”

Dorothy felt confused, having never heard this word before. “What is an enchantress?” she asked.  

“An enchantress is a lovely name for a witch.”

Dorothy felt afraid and took a step back.  “My Auntie Em said that all witches come from the devil.”

“What is this devil you speak of?” asked the woman, truly curious.  But in that Dorothy didn’t know how to respond.

“Well,” and Dorothy thought for a moment.  “My Auntie Em says that he brings wicked into the earth.”

“Perhaps we don’t have him here then,” said the woman, “for this is not Earth.”

“Aren’t all witches evil?”

“Are you evil?” responded the woman.  

“No!  I mean, I don’t think so?  But I am not a witch.”

“Perhaps not, but I think you have far more power than you realize.  Do you think that I am evil?”

Dorothy looked at the shining eyes of the people, the people of plants and trees and nature itself.  She looked at the woman, shimmering in and out of light, her voice like the air itself, her hair floating, alive in the breeze.

“No,” said Dorothy.  “You seem good, and your people seem to love you.”

“Well, I am a witch.  I am Locasta, the good witch of the North.”

Again, Dorothy felt afraid. “My Aunt Em told me that all witches are dead.”

“Who is this Aunt Em?”

“She’s like you, she’s the woman who takes care of me.”  Dorthy felt her eyes being to burn and fought to hold back her tears.  

“You must tell your Aunt Em that not all witches are dead, and that not all witches are evil.  Here in Oz, we have four witches. Well, three now.” And again the woman laughed.   “Myself, the good witch of the North.  In the South is another good witch, Glinda, who perhaps you will someday meet.  To the East was an evil witch, but as you have killed her, there is but one evil witch left.  She is the wicked witch of the West.  Her name is Mombi.  You will also perhaps meet her, but for your heart, I hope it is never so.”

“Is she very evil then?” asked Dorothy.

“She is cruel and full of hurt and wishes only for but power.  She loves nothing and nothing loves her.  And now there is you, and it’s seems to me that you are an enchantress.”

“I’m not an enchantress, just a child.”

“We shall see, child. Do you have a name?”

“ My name is Dorothy.”

“Well Dorothy, I think that Oz should like to meet you and decide for himself.”

“Who is Oz?”

“He is a great Wizard.”  The Munchkins again began to speak among themselves. “Hush children,” demanded the woman and they were quiet. Her voice lowered, “He is all great and all powerful.  He is more powerful than all of the witches combined, the greatest of them all.  He lives in the Emerald City, the richest of our lands.”

As she said this, Dorothy noticed one of the smallest Munchkins begin to tug on the woman’s dress.

“What is it child?” she said, and bent down for the little one to whisper in her ear.  The little one looked to the corner of the house where the wicked witch lay dead.  The woman turned to look herself and then began to laugh.  The laugh was not light and gentle this time, but full of life. “Ah!  Yes!  I see.”

The woman stood and looked at Dorothy. “Look at what you have done!”

“I haven’t done anything!”

“Child, look.”

Dorothy didn’t want to feel the horror that those crushed and broken legs brought, but she turned her head and was surprised at what she saw. 

Previous Chapters

Intro to NaNoWriMo and my plan for the month

Day 1, Chapter 1

Day 2, Chapter 2

Day 3, Chapter 2 and 3

Research Questions

Now that I am moving into the fantasy part of Oz, I’m needing less research, but a few things still come up.

Meditation on the Four Directions

The Four Witches of Oz