by Casey Lane
"What’s in the goddamn coffin?" Hate’s eyes bulged with pain, staring at the coffin.
"Someone who wants to say yippee ki yay to you, low life scum of the earth. "
"Please don’t show me." Hate tried to crawl away on his back. Door grabbed him by the neck and pushed him against the coffin she had now opened.
Hate gasped. Then shrieked. Then screamed like a little chicken on slaughter day.
"This can't be."
Inside the coffin was the dying girl he and Blade had tortured and hanged this morning. She was in no way going to survive, but still breathed. Door patted her gently and gave her the gun. "You said you wanted to shoot him in the eyes." She told her.
The blood-covered, flesh-skinned girl nodded feebly. She didn't have the strength to pull the trigger so Door assisted her. Then the girl blinked the one eye that hadn’t been shut from the torture.
Hate peed himself. “What does she want?”
Door nodded and patted the girl again. She’d registered the girl’s wish and handed her Blade’s knife. Then assisted her in carving something on Hate’s forehead while gripping it with the other hand.
With the girl’s last letter carved on Hate’s bleeding forehead, she fell back into the coffin. She’d died instantly with eyes open staring at the Booty’s ceiling. But those weren’t a dead slave’s eyes, because the satisfaction in them was priceless.
"Lay back, darling. You may now rest in peace." Door pulled her eyes closed. "May a tornado help you cross the Shifting Sands to a better place.”
Then Door stood up and shot Hate dead. Lying on his back, she could read the girl’s name on his forehead. It said: Ozma.
Chapter 9
Door burned the bar after she'd collected all the money she needed. She tipped the piano player and let him go. Freed the girl they’d used as target at the wall of darts, and a few other slaves the men had kidnapped upstairs.
Outside, she buried the Quadling nearby. She made a cross with two table legs and carved her name: Ozma: one hell of a brave girl. She killed the outlaws who ripped her out of her young and precious life.
It occurred to her that this may be the first Quadling grave with a name on it. Heck, it may be the first Quadling grave ever in Oz. Slaves died the way ants and cockroaches died; one of many, and unremembered.
The sun had begun to shine when a black horse came in the distance. Door sighed and closed her eyes briefly with gratitude. She smiled for the first time in days. The horse was so dear to her.
"Where have you been?" She hugged him and kissed his muzzle "I thought I lost you in the desert."
The horse hoofed and brushed its head against her face. They looked like brother and sister more than a girl and her horse.
"I know," Door patted him. "I missed you, too. Promise me we’ll not part again."
The horse purred like a cat.
Door gave him a cube of sugar she’d kept safe in a deep pocket, then gently rode up. "It's time to find the Emerald City," she said, staring at the vast nothingness. "Hang on tight, Toto."
And so Door and Toto rode away on a mysterious quest she'd never told anyone about. A quest that will change Oz forever.
Chapter 10
In the house in the middle of the Shifting Sands, grandpa was teaching his little girl how to shoot a gun. He was proud of his little Quadling. Soon she'd grow up and be as brave as Door.
As they shot beer bottles, a white dove flew by.
"Look, grandpa,"' the little girl said ecstatically. "It a dove. I've never seen one in the Shifting Sands before."
"Neither have I," said grandpa. "I'm afraid the crows will kill it."
Then the dove flew closer, finally landing on the girl's shoulder. Once there, they saw it had a letter and bag tied to its legs. Grandpa gently pulled the bag free and opened it.
"Stars!" The little girl squealed.
"Forty of them." Granpa said, watching the dove fly away.
"Did Door send it, grandpa?"
"Who else?" The man smiled.
"I want to be like her when I am her age," the little girl said.
Grandpa said nothing. In the distance a tornado was forming and soon they'd need shelter. He dragged the little girl back into the cottage and they climbed down the cellar to hide.
"Will Door survive the tornado, grandpa?"
"I don't know, darling," Grandpa said. "She strikes me like someone who has a great story to live ahead."
"Story?"
“Yes, darling. A story about the Land of Oz. A story about America.”
“Do you know much about this story, Grandpa?”
“Not much. My guess is that it has to do with the legendary Throne of Oz.” He ducked, and was about to pull the the cellar’s door to a close.
But the little girl stopped him.
“What is it?” Granpa said. “Door can take care of herself.”
“It’s not Door I’m wishing to see,” said the girl. “I was hoping my sister would make it before the tornado.”
Grandpa suppressed a tear and patted her. “Do you want me to be as blunt as Door?”
The girl nodded, biting a lip.
“Your sister is probably dead by now.”
The girl was about to cry herself. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it earlier, but the words cut like a knife.
“None of the slaves ever survived Blade and Hate,” Grandpa said. “So you hang in there, and thank the Lord for having Door save our lives.”
“I will, Grandpa,” the little girl straightened her back, pretending as if nothing mattered, pretending to be as strong as Door. “But I will avenge her when I’m older.”
Grandpa said nothing. How would you permit a child revenge at such a young age?
“Door would have done that.” the little girl said.
“Of course,” Grandpa said, pulling down the lever, as the tornado shook the earth all around. “Now climb down, Ozma. We’re not in Kansas anymore.”
Epilogue
The Chronicler took off his glasses, let out a sigh, and laid back in his chair. The sun had come up, just like it had on Door in the story he’d just read, and pigeon holed the comforts of his reality in his study.
A set of historical books were lined up in the library in front of him. He wondered if any of them had ever mentioned the things in this book Frank had written. Was the man really hallucinating? Was this the other version of the book he’d not intended for children? Or was he telling the truth.
Door had taken the Chronicler by storm. Though she lived in a brutal, maddening, and violent world, he admired her. The Chronicler wasn’t one to endorse violence. This wasn’t a time in America to endorse violence anymore. If they wanted to aspire to be a great nation, they needed to find a way where all factions and races lived together.
He stared at an image of the current American president William McKinley on the wall, but in reality he’d been thinking about Abraham Lincoln. This alternative America called Oz in the books suggested the year was 1860 – the time when Lincoln ruled.
The time America had been divided in a war about slavery.
Could this be true? The Chronicler rubbed his eyes.
Whether it was or wasn’t, the story Frank L. Baum had documented in these vellums had struck a chord in him. He loved it and intended to finish it. He intended to know more about who the real Scarecrow, Lion, and Tin were. Who Wick was and why she poisoned the American water with green arsenic. He wanted to know more about the Quadlings. The Emerald City.
And more of Door. What happened to her. What had she been after? And would she ever find what she was looking for?
Author’s Notes
Thank you for reading the first few chapters in my upcoming series, Throne of Oz. Book One will be called A Fistful of Stars, a blatant homage to the great American Western movies. If you’re a reader of my earlier books, then you know about my obsession with the origins of fairy tales, and may have an idea how the series came to my mind.
&
nbsp; If not, please allow me to share a few things…
1 - The idea that Frank L. Baum based his book on the tornado in Kansas is a fact. Even stranger is that one of the survivors’ name was Gale – I’ll scan evidence of that in the original book when it’s released.
2 – Oz being an allegory of America is no secret. It’s just an overlooked truth. Google the map of Oz and examine it for a moment; you’d be surprised at how obvious it shows. Oz = America in the 1800’s. Kansas is the Emerald City.
3 – It should be noted that Frank L. Baum’s main purpose was to create authentic American Fairy Tales. He wasn’t satisfied with the European Brothers Grimm and wanted a native folklore for American children. Bear in mind that Brothers Grimm’s purpose had been all the same: they wanted to collect German folklore in one volume. Frank L. Baum had given the idea a first shot with the marginalized Mother Goose collection – most people don’t recognize it as his effort to this day – but it flopped. Years later, he took the world by a storm with the Wizard of Oz.
4 – According to the original books, Quadlings, which is Oz’s south, is an alternative name to the word Quadroon, which is a forgotten race of people in early America. Quadroons weren’t colored or white. They were of mixed race, up to their fourth generation of fathers or grandfathers. Sometime they were of color, sometimes white, and sometimes of mixed attributes. There are tons of books about Quadroon Balls and history about their lives – which I will be getting into further in the series. Point is, you can see how Frank L. Baum’s naming for this part of the region wasn’t done haphazardly. It’s my own belief that his world is a masterful and genius allegory of American life at the time. This is why I intended Door to be a Quadling.
5 – Bleeding Kansas is one of the harshest times in American history. A time when the war about slavery was the heart of American conflict – this war, later, when solved, conjured the greatness of American history when all races were counted Americans and lived all together. Frank was a young boy when Bleeding Kansas occurred. Again, it’s my belief that it’d affected him and his story, deeply.
6 – Frank really said he was ready to cross over to the Shifting Sands before he died. These were his last words.
7 – Frank L. Baum’s first version of the Wizard of Oz was bloody and violent, and was later toned down. Even the nowadays version of the first book is still bloody and violent if you take a deeper look and forget about the Disney movie insinuated in your childhood’s memory. Come on, have you read how scary the Wicked Witch of the West was in the books?
Last but not least, it’s not in my intention to make this an educational read. I just mention the ideas that led me to write it this way. Throne of Oz is a story of its own. Sure it has allegories and resemblances, but never imposing ideologies. This is a fun book. It’s intended to entertain. That’s all it is.
I’ve already fallen in love with Door and hope you’ll be enjoying her journey as well. Writing is my greatest escape and healer. I enjoy it tremendously. If I’ve succeeded to entertain you, then please Subscribe to My Mailing List to be the first notified when the book is released, and also benefit from the book’s initial discount days.
Sincerely,
Cameron Jace
Get the latest news from Cameron Jace and the Throne of Oz series, plus free short stories and early discounts and releases.
About the Author
Wonderlander, Neverlander, Unicorn-chaser, enchanter, musician, survived a coma, & totally awesome. Sometimes I tell stories. Always luv the little monsters
I write young adult paranormal romance, urban fantasy, and science fiction mostly. The Grimm Diaries series is a seven book saga that deals with retellings of fairy tales from a young adult POV - it connects most of the fairy tales together and claims to be the truth about fairy tales.
I live in San Fransisco and seriously think circles are way cooler than triangles.
Get the latest news from Cameron Jace and the Throne of Oz series, plus free short stories and early discounts and releases by subscribing to Cameron’s mailing List.
The Grimm Diaries Prequels Series
The Grimm Diaries Prequels 1-6
A Re-telling of every fairy tale the Brothers Grimm have ever told
Books in the Insanity Series
The Complete Insanity Series: Books 1 -3
A Re-telling of Alice in Wonderland, where Alice is patient in and asylum in modern day London.
cameronjace.blogspot.com/
That Damn Pea
By May Sage
Chapter 1
Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. There went the saying, no one had seen necessary to elaborate about a third time, because people just weren’t that stupid.
After finding himself fooled for the fourth time, Finn – who hadn’t seen himself as an individual lacking in intellectual capacities before these events – was wondering if he needed to get his head examined.
He genuinely couldn’t see where he’d gone wrong this time.
His first try had been a little ill-advised, perhaps, but he had been nineteen at the time. Any nineteen-year-old boy freshly crowned King might have fallen for the whispers and other intimate ministrations of the beautiful Annabella Cartwright. Thankfully, though, his father had known him: the previous King’s will clearly stated that any potential wife of his had to be screened and approved by his godmother.
At the time, Finn had thought that the edit was emasculating, unfair, foolish, but he knew better now. He’d known better since the day he’d called upon the said godmother, a Fay named Maleficent.
She’d appeared in a puff of dramatic green smoke, wearing black leather from her horned skull to her boot clad toes.
One glance at the beautiful Annabella, and she’d chuckled, shaking her head emphatically, before saying a clear, “Nuh-uh. Nope. Not happening. Call again when you find the exact opposite of this.”
On that note, the Fay turned to leave.
“Wait!” the desperately enamored teenager had protested. “You can’t just say that!”
“You’ll find that I can, human,” the Fay growled low, making his blood run cold.
He took a step back, which brought a smile to her dark lips.
She then lifted her hand and a fine mist of green magic appeared, aiming towards the beautiful, well-endowed blond who looked at him with watery eyes.
Finn had run towards his intended, desperate to protect her from whatever curse the Fay had cast, but he was too late.
All of a sudden, Annabella talked.
Well, not really – her pretty mouth remained firmly shut, but words came from the corner where she stood, and it sounded like her voice.
“Dammit! Six months I’ve spent seducing him! The things I did to him just to make sure he chose me to be the next Queen, and now, a weird-ass nympho turns up and just says no?”
Oh. Well, that was sobering.
“I’m sure she’ll make a decent Queen and all,” the Fay said, shrugging, “But your father was explicit with his wish. He asked me to ensure that you only tied yourself to a woman of suitable character who would love you for you and well, while I could almost pretend that she fit half the bill, part two disqualifies her. See you again later, little King.”
As it could be imagined, Finn took quite a while to recover from that set back. Four years later, though, he was wiser in his choice, finding a woman who had practically nothing to gain from an alliance with him.
Maricia was an Alenian Duchess who could have quite easily bought his entire country. Atela was incontestably the least important Kingdom of Europa; although bigger than the Woodlands in size, their limited exportations and simple way of life made them inconsequential.
They were close to Enom, and they had access to the sea, attributes which, coupled with their rich history and their iconic architecture, made them a popular holiday destination, but that was the extent of their importance.
Mal took a little longer to observe that candid
ate, her dark eyes piercing her for a full minute. Then, she smirked.
“Well, well. Isn’t that fascinating.”
That might have sounded promising, if it hadn’t been for the tone of her voice, and the way Maricia squirmed under her scrutiny.
What now?
“Do you want to tell him, or shall I?”
At least, Maricia had the decency to say it herself: while she liked and respected him, she had to admit that all things considered, she was more attracted to Maleficent’s ample breasts than to what he had to offer.
Another five years passed. At twenty-nine, he was quite certain he knew how to spot gold-diggers and lesbians. Turned out, he also needed to be wary of ax-murderers who daydreamed about killing him in his sleep and taking the throne.
Yes, that one almost reconciled him with the idea of bachelorhood, but he was King, and he refused to be defeated.
“A gold digger, again? Seriously?”
He couldn’t believe that one: he’d gone for a woman he didn’t even find attractive, someone who seemed genuine sweet and intelligent.
“Just because she wasn’t a size minus five model with over inflated tits doesn’t mean that she couldn’t have her eye on the prize,” Charles, his right hand man, unhelpfully pointed out.
Finn collapsed on his throne, weary, exhausted of the whole thing.
He was thirty-two, now – he’d ruled for thirteen years. It was past time to give the kingdom an heir, and damn it, he just wanted a damn wife! Women weren’t the only ones who suffered from lack of companionship. He could find ways to fill his bed quite easily, but what of the lonely winter nights where he sat alone in front of the chimney and had no one to speak to but his employees?
