Dorothy: The Darker Side of OZ v5

by Scott Stanford

  Still underwater, though stretching a peculiar limb it grabs at the muddy bank, groaning calmly, ‘Do you know how fast I can catch you?’ and Dorothy stands in fear, keeping her body still as she thinks of shouting to Scarecrow, but the option’s cut away. ‘Call to your friend and I will leap from the water and eat you. Come closer to me.’ Dorothy shakes her head, sternly saying, ‘No!’ and the creature pulls another limb from the water, grabbing at the dirt with wet green skin, grumbling, ‘You awoke me and I’m hungry, come closer or I’ll eat you.’ Dorothy hesitates, moving forward with a solid step as she reassures herself that if the creature tries to attack her she can knock it back with her heavy silver boots. Repeating itself the creature groans, ‘Have you anything to trade?’ and close enough to the spring to see its body Dorothy’s skin shudders as its tentacles flail wildly in the water. Nervously she answers, ‘No, I have nothing to trade,’ and the creature replies, ‘What about pearls, what would you trade me for pearls?’ and Dorothy answers, ‘Nothing.’ Its fins feeling at the water the creature gargles:

  ‘You must have something to trade, the carnival is coming to town you know, you have something I need.’

  Although her curiosity bites Dorothy still shakes her head and the creature offers a solution, ‘Very well, I will trade you whatever you want, food, jewels. All you have to do is come back into the water and I will give you anything.’

  Dorothy pauses with a lump in her throat and the creature groans, ‘Come to me!’ as it whips a tentacle from the water and the young girl slowly starts to walk backwards. Stretching another limb toward her it swipes at her arm but misses as she continues to move away; further from its reach and distancing herself from the spring as she looks back to see the creature wrapping its limbs around dead trees and broken rocks. Unsure whether it can move on land Dorothy sprints to the scarecrow, grabbing at his arm as she forces him to run along the yellow road with her as he asks, ‘Why so fast?’ Meanwhile the creature lingers its tentacles around loose pearls and dead trees, its efforts to tempt Dorothy useless as it sinks back into the water, wishing it awoke just minutes earlier.

  10

  Walking back along the road Dorothy places Toto in her bag to keep him safe, and the scarecrow watches in amazement as strange flying insects flutter in the air.

  Swiping at them, their wings crush with his effortless attack as some die instantly and the injured fall to the road, left for dead and vulnerable as Dorothy looks with concern. ‘Why do you do that?’ she asks, and he continues waving his arms, turning his head down to the girl as he ponders, ‘I don’t know, I dislike flying things, take my buttons.’ She mutters aloud to herself, thinking, ‘Like crows,’ as the scarecrow hears her and replies, ‘Don’t like crows,’ as he keeps swiping his arms.

  Unsure how long they’ve been walking Dorothy hasn’t seen anything strange since the horrid creature at the spring, and though the trees pulse their limbs along the road they’re subdued, even as they smile creepily with their sharp carved teeth. She feels the air colder now, her bare legs chilled as she catches glimpses of sun peering through the forest’s wooden cage, shining between the crooked branches as it lights the path just enough to see. Dorothy listens past the scarecrow’s mischievous huff as he crushes insects, and she focuses on the sound of the animals crying in the distance, beyond the trees. Wondering what they could be Dorothy can’t imagine them being normal, and the thought of a typical fox or cat wouldn’t suffice. She expects something fascinating, even horrific as her mind trails around Oz, wondering of its possibilities.

  Her wits adrift the scarecrow pulls Dorothy from deep thought as he sounds, ‘That’s new,’ showing her a small tin insect struggling in his hand, half crushed with its stinger imbedded into the skin. Unable to free itself it flaps its wings relentlessly, as the sound of grating metal cuts at Dorothy’s ears and she looks closer.

  Glaring at the tin creature her eyes stretch along its anatomy; the small fine etched legs stick out of a complexly carved body as the folds in its rusted head spread along its main to the sharp stinger. Accurate to the smallest detail she stares at the tiniest eyes, the ridges on its wings, and the almost invisible tin hairs on its back as even two rows of thin teeth snap at her. Amazed, but unsure what to do with it Dorothy wonders how the insect works, or if it’s in pain, and asks the scarecrow to drop it to the floor. Pulling the stinger out of his skin, slowly he drops it to hear tin wings scrape along the ground and Dorothy looks at the weak insect, stamping quickly to put it out of its misery. Just as she’s done to all of the scarecrow’s victims. Pressed onto the bottom of her boot Dorothy lifts her foot to see the mangled insect, as she failed to hear the tin cry and looks at the tiniest cogs she’d ever seen, imbedded into the sole.

  Walking along the road in her solid stride Dorothy tries to look through the trees again whilst the scarecrow flails his arms, wondering if he’ll catch another tin creature. With her attention lost in the deep forest, she stumbles over a loose brick on the dirty yellow road, taking notice as she looks to see their path bend. With sudden amazement she stands still, looking in front of them as she pulls the scarecrow’s arm, murmuring, ‘Look,’ as he smiles, ‘I can’t believe my buttons.’

  Built atop the grey grass a house stands surrounded by dead trees, their branches spread along the structure and its exterior covered entirely in metal. Glimmers of white light shine on the clean patches of metal, though the majority rests coated in rust, dilapidated as a vicious corroded fence surrounds the house. With sharp rusted blades spread across the barrier waiting to cut intruders, barbed wire rests eager to infect, and beams of thick jagged metal stand tall. Dorothy looks at what she can only call a junkyard as the fascinated Scarecrow grabs her hand, leading her closer to the house. She follows without hesitation, finding a small gap in the deadly fence as the scarecrow chimes happily. Ducking under the sharp wire and trying to avoid the fine blades Scarecrow makes his way through eagerly, slicing a hole at the skin on his shoulder without noticing as straw pours out. Now slightly hesitant, though not enough to turn back Dorothy slides her body through the fence with concentration as she breathes in and holds her stomach tightly, so scared of getting cut as she falls to the ground in relief. Taking a deep breath and turning her head she looks inches from her face to notice a bear trap on the floor, open with its teeth hungry as she jumps to her feet and latches onto the scarecrow’s arm.

  Murmuring the words, ‘What are we doing?’ to herself Dorothy proceeds to walk around the yard with Scarecrow as he smiles at the new sights. Interested in the sharp pieces of metal scattered along the side of the house he feels at them to see straw pour from his fingers, looking curiously whilst Dorothy places a hand on the cold lonely building. Rubbing a palm along a small amount of metal she feels at the rust, scratching vigorously to see wood underneath. Turning to look back at her intrigued friend a mechanical roar spreads from the back of the house as Dorothy jumps and they stand together, the scarecrow asking, ‘Can we go look? I want to see.’ The young girl shakes her head, quietly mouthing, ‘No, we should leave,’ as she jumps backwards. Pointing with no words she looks out of the corner of her eye at a dead munchkin, and the scarecrow walks closer. Barely visible behind a large sheet of metal its body’s upright as it leans against a rusty meshed wire fence. Almost intact, every inch of its visible flesh is covered in deep thin slits, spanning from the back of his legs to his stubby hands. The scars even spread along his face, encrusting an eye with thick cuts and dry blood. Scarecrow looks at the decaying munchkin’s clothing, covered in thin slits with a large gorge in its chest as he curiously runs a finger along its face, one eye torn out completely as he feels at the chasm and turns to Dorothy, muttering, ‘B…birds!’ Reaching for his hand her panic swells as she hears the oxidized groan again, and shouts, ‘We have to go!’ Quickly she glances at the covered sky as a swarm of rusted tin insects hover above them, gleaming in the odd rays of light. Screaming, ‘Run!’ she acts on instinct as the creatures descend, p
ositive that tin’s a thin weak metal but unsure of the damage it can cause at such a speed. Heading for the house’s front door the scarecrow hears a familiar sound in the distance and glares behind him as he spots a tin bird and panics.

  With the grating flutter of the insect’s wings in Dorothy’s ears, she jumps to the porch and pulls at the door handle to feel it locked. Without thought the scarecrow runs at the door, smashing his fists into the metal encased wood as his skin bursts at the seams and straw pours from his hands. Staring back at the winged insects, followed by several birds he watches in fear as they swarm, swiftly shocked by the sound of shattered glass. With a rusted metal chair in her hands Dorothy throws it to the floor, looking at the broken window with thin layers of tin peeled away. She shouts, ‘In now!’ jumping inside the house first, ignoring the glass cutting at her legs as Scarecrow follows.

  Inside she runs through the house quickly, pulling a large wooden mirror from the wall as the scarecrow stands idly. Wedging it into the shattered window frame she’s positive the wood’s thick enough and screams at the scarecrow, ‘Get here now!’ as they both push their weight into the mirror. With their backs along the glass they can feel the force of the tin insects shattering against the wood, but hold it strongly as the beating continues, taking the impact of what the scarecrow believes to be a bird or two as he smiles. With her eyes closed Dorothy feels strong, holding them off as she grips onto the wood, only un-tensing her muscles as the beating against her back stops. With a curious, ‘Do you think they’re gone?’ Dorothy replies, ‘I think so,’ as the scarecrow shakes his head, murmuring, ‘Don’t like birds, scare me, scare me as much as…’ He pauses and Dorothy looks at the worry on his face, ‘As much as what?’ she asks and he looks at her with his curious expression nowhere in sight as he timidly mouths, ‘Fire.’ A short silence falls between them, Dorothy unsure of what to say at first as she carefully lets go of the mirror and places a hand on his shoulder. She looks down at his skeleton hands, the skin peeled back to his wrists as she assures, ‘Come on, we’ll fix you.’

  Making sure the mirror’s securely wedged in place they walk through the house and Dorothy’s eyes scan, almost disappointed that the walls are stone, and the floorboards and the furniture’s made of wood.

  The mechanical roar screeches again, scraping through Dorothy’s ears as the scarecrow stands with a foot on the staircase, looking to the top curiously as she calls to him. ‘Don’t go upstairs, it may not be safe,’ the young girl says as he recedes, and she smiles to herself, not having the heart to tell him she thinks he’s as curious as a magpie. Scared of the odd mechanical groans Dorothy slowly makes her way to the back of the house, eager to leave as she walks into the kitchen. Looking at the bowls of rotten fruit, and smelling spoilt meat she puts a hand over her mouth and looks to the back garden to find bushels of straw in a small hut. Calling to the scarecrow, he stands beside her as they slowly open the backdoor, looking into the sky to make sure the tin creatures are gone as the pair step outside cautiously. With his eyes focused on the straw scarecrow opens his mouth in anticipation and extends his two bony hands as Dorothy follows behind.

  Walking in the open ground she feels uneasy and looks to the small hut, her eyes drifting past the scattered pieces of junk metal as she spies the tall vicious fence and turns. Looking in the sky for tin insects she walks around the yard cautiously, passing odd pieces of junk, walking between fences and scrap metal as she suddenly stumbles to the ground screaming. Scared, she tries to shuffle backward, looking up at a tin monster as he stands fearsomely. His tortured eyes stare at Dorothy, with his mouth as jagged and hungry as a bear-trap, groaning an agonised threat as he clenches a rusted axe in his hands.

  11

  Dorothy grabs at a handful of dried dirt, throwing it at the tin-man’s face in hope of blinding him as she stumbles to her feet, reaching at an old pitchfork as Scarecrow runs to her side. Looking at the monstrosity and waiting for it to attack, her eyes scan along its silver tin exterior, patches worn and rusty as braces and thick bolts hold him together, the joints caked in blood. Ready for the axe to swing Dorothy eyes the tin-man’s hands, moulded like thick spiked gauntlets as she stares at its face; his whole head laced with metal as the jagged guard covering his mouth groans, and bloodshot eyes stare in agony.

  Dorothy shouts, ‘Come on!’ steadily holding the pitchfork, gritting her teeth as she looks to the tin-man, standing still as she notices the thick cross on his chest, its east point tipped with an arrow, Avatonika’s mark. Carved deep into the metal Dorothy can see raw skin underneath his armour and slowly lowers her weapon, asking, ‘What are you?’ as his voice chisels, ‘Tin…’ then after a painful glitch, ‘…man.’ Confident that he can’t move she looks into his eyes, intensely staring back at her as she asks, ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Giving the sound of snapped brittle metal he curdles, ‘Need oil…’ groaning again as blood trickles from the mouth guard as he continues, ‘Small hut.’ As if exhausted his voice still groans lightly and Dorothy holds the pitchfork in hand asking, ‘If we help you, will you harm us?’ to which the tin-man’s throat scrapes, ‘No, have…my word,’ as the blood still dribbles. Dorothy points, ‘Go, go get it,’ to the scarecrow as he moves to the small hut to fetch the oil, while she stands holding the pitchfork. Quietly groaning in pain the tin-man watches the scarecrow come back, holding the can of oil in his skeletal hands as he pours it over the blood stained joints. The tin-man’s neck loosens at first, then his legs, feet and arms as he drops the axe to the floor, thudding solidly whilst the scarecrow pours the remainder of the can over the metal monster. Groaning in relief, spitting out a mouthful of blood he falls to the floor happily, crouching as he feels the oil seep through the metal and over his skin. The tin-man’s eyes dripping a crimson black he says, ‘Thank you so much,’ as Dorothy stands, still with the pitchfork in hand as she asks, ‘What happened to you?’

  Looking up at the young girl’s face, the tin-man’s bloody metal exterior, jagged spikes and sharp chiselled teeth seem almost less horrific as he tells his tale:

  ‘I’m a woodsman, just as my father was…not long ago he died, and shortly after so did my mother. I still worked the yard alone, but knew I couldn’t bear it much longer. Soon I found a girl, a beautiful girl who said she’d marry me if I could build us a better house, one sturdier than wood alone. So I started work on the house, and when my love told the old woman she lived with the news, she was scorned. For the old woman treated her as a slave, and could not survive without someone to torture. Then one day my love came to me with her skin roar, her eyes blackened and her wrist broken, as although the old woman was frail she had enough strength to abuse a young girl.

  Filled with anger I grabbed at my axe ready to confront the old tyrant, but sadly Avatonika took a liking to the old one, and even though she lived in the Quadling country… she helped her stop our chance of marriage. Her evil munchkins took my love away from me, and the wicked witch held me prisoner, scolding my skin every day with fiery water until she was ready to begin her torture. I screamed, begged for her to tell me where my love was but she wouldn’t answer me. All she said was that I was too good, in my skin and my heart, then she used my own axe to deform me; firstly cutting off my left leg, then the right, before leaving me for days. I was sure I would die but she kept me alive with her magic, so I could suffer.

  Days later she summoned me again, this time cutting away the flesh and bone of my right arm, and then the left. I begged her to let me die, pleaded I’d do anything if she left my love alone…and she agreed. The witch promised me my love’s safety, and then used my axe to open my chest and remove my heart. She was happy at my misery but not enough, she didn’t want me to die, she preferred I suffer. That’s when they replaced my heart with a machine; letting it pump blood through my body, keep me alive as she proceeded to destroy my good skin. I was fully awake when she soldered my limbs back into place, bolting them at the joints and pouring liquid metal over them, letting it s
et as I suffered. Then placing a metal skeleton over my body, she wanted to keep the skin on my chest fleshy so I could see the scars. After that she continued to design me in this horrific way, making me wear horrific hands and teeth of steel, though replacing most of my skin with weak tin so I could still bleed easily. Now my good features are that of a monster, and my heart stolen. I have no heart to give to my love.’

  Dorothy stands with the pitchfork loose in her hand as, ‘I’m so sorry,’ comes through sympathetic lips, watching the tin-man rise from the floor. Holding at the armour on his chest with a solid gauntlet he points to a circular mechanism, groaning, ‘Inside’s the machine that keeps me alive,’ as the young girl looks at his body. She eyes the jagged metal at first, and then the bare pieces of flesh, his skin burnt and stitched up like a cadaver. Watching the tin-man and cooing, ‘That’s most strange’ the scarecrow abruptly waves his bony hands, tapping at his burlap head and offers:

  ‘Come with us, we’re off to Emerald city to see the wizard. I need his help for a brain, he may be able to help you too.’