Smiling to herself Dorothy looks to the confused scarecrow and the emotionless tin-man as she rambles, ‘I know that was wrong but…’, ‘You did well girl,’ the tin-man interrupts, placing his axe to the side of the bed as Dorothy sits on the mattress to hear a creek beneath her. For a second she thinks with an innocent smile, a room for the night with two men, that wouldn’t have gone down well at the orphanage. Scarecrow looks empty and Dorothy watches him, thoughtless until he gazes through the small window, jumping, ‘Carnival, can we go?’ to which the young girl smiles, her curiosity and fear meshed as they outweigh her tiredness.
In the midst of the crowds Scarecrow pulls at Dorothy’s arm, darting from stall to stall and touching at the trinkets, letting the odd lights dazzle his buttons as he bounces gleefully and Dorothy smiles. Walking behind them the tin-man watches, pushing his way through the crowd as he feels their bodies glide along his metal skin. Ignoring them he keeps a keen eye on the odd faces, the ones with a gleam of hope in their eyes as they show interest in his friends. He knows there’s something unusual about Dorothy, and without her he fears he may not be granted a meeting with the wizard.
The scarecrow pulls Dorothy from one stall to the next, happily pointing out the fine sights and oddities as they gleam. She laughs aloud to hear him wonder, ‘What’s this, what’s this, ooohh I like that!’ as he places peculiar pieces of jewellery against her skin, and for the first time since she’s been in Oz, she enjoys herself. ‘So pretty, so pretty,’ he glows dangling golden hooked pieces of amethyst by her face, then holding an emerald chain to her neck, ‘So pretty, so pretty,’ as he reaches for an amber pendant and his buttons widen. ‘Ooohhh!’ he coos, holding the piece to her neck as he smiles at the dead flies and moths trapped inside. ‘So beautiful,’ he raves with a malicious smile, pulling Dorothy to another stall before she notices, smiling along the way. This one beams a light red to its audience as small white horses are project in the air, and Scarecrow tries to swipe at them before noticing the small playing cards, over fifty of them taped to the back wall.
Pointing at the small distant pictures of kings, queens, hearts and spades he hollers, ‘What are those?’ to the owner, as he places a dart in the scarecrow’s hand, replying, ‘They’re playing cards, hit the King and win a prize. First dart’s free, hit the King.’ Waving the spiked tip in his hand the scarecrow’s amazed by the flow of it then throws vigorously, cutting right through the chest of a queen as he turns, distracted by another stall as Dorothy stays for a moment. Sure she heard a cry, a faint whisper of agony she looks to the cards, her eyes focusing, waiting for the slightest movement as the owner offers her a free dart and she kindly refuses. The seconds linger, no movement, not a sound from the cards and Dorothy thinks herself crazy, turning around to follow the scarecrow as the Queen whispers her last words.
Dorothy looks behind her at the tin-man and smiles, following Scarecrow to the centre of the carnival as they join the crowds, gathering around an empty podium. Curious, the young girl feels comfort to have straw and dried skin pressed against one hand, as quickly cold metal embraces the other. Smiling happily she almost forgets the tin-man’s warning of the carnival, though as worry creeps in her concentration’s shattered by snaring drums. They pulse against the canvas quickly as a trumpet joins the rhythm, and Dorothy looks up to the empty stage to see a purple cannon fire smoke at the audience. Breathing in a quick gasp it catches her throat and she hears the crowds roar in worship, looking past the fogged stage to see a pale ivory man dressed in a tuxedo. His skin bleached, cheeks pitted with birthmarks and lips painted a bright red he smiles. The yellow teeth give no welcome, nor his green eyes surrounded by the deep red of burst blood vessels, though he scuffles his greasy short grey hair confidently. Swinging his cane in circles he looks out to the masses, rubbing his hand along the bald ivory baby head at the tip as he begins:
‘Welcome one and all, I am Mr Jack and this is my carnival. Are you ready for a good night?’
The audience cheer in response, some louder than others and the ringleader snaps back to entertain, goading, ‘I can’t hear you!’ to follow with another roar as he smiles wildly, dancing around the stage ecstatically like a mime. Laughing a loud piercing screech he places a gloved finger to his eye, pulling away the skin beneath as he groans exhaustedly:
‘As you can see I’ve been having too much fun recently, but that won’t stop me tonight, because this is our last stop in Munchkin country.’
The crowd sigh, a mass sorrow as Mr Jack sobs falsely, rubbing at his eye and smattering his lips:
‘Sad I know, but for all you stalkers the Emerald city will be our next stop. And I promise you I will be personally seeing that you all have a better night than the folk down at Quadling country did. I mean they where fun but a little, dead on their feet when I finished with em’, but some people just can’t handle their antifreeze can they. They’re just a bit too much of a goody two-shoes place for me. ’
The crowds cheer and Dorothy watches as some seem excited, clapping vigorously as others stand miserable, smiling as if they’re forced to. Her eyes focus on them, their tortured expressions through stretched lips as their eyes water, screaming for help silently. Slowly a small child turns her head from the stage, facing Dorothy with a haunting smile, the skin around her lips scarred as she waves. Looking back at her, about to pull at the tin-man’s arm Dorothy feels warm neon along her face, and looks up to the stage as reams of distort lights flash behind Mr Jack while he continues:
‘That’s better. Well I’ll keep this short and sweet, like a munchkin dipped in honey. Though I must say, what will the bees do to him, Ha! So enjoy the food, flesh, fun, merriment and remember… We’re here to entertain you. So I shall leave you with this; the man who invented it doesn’t want it. The man who bought it doesn’t need it, and the man who needs it doesn’t know it. What is it? Ooh, tonight I feel so…naughty.’
Hypnotised Dorothy watches Mr Jack spread his arms and laugh, surrounded by a sudden burst of smoke as he disappears and she turns back to the crowd. Her eyes scanning the bodies she looks for the child, the tortured smiles and finds nothing but genuine adoration, blaming what she thinks she saw on tiredness, her mind playing tricks on her. As bodies push against Dorothy, moving away from the podium she feels their different skins press tightly; some with brittle hair, scales like a reptile, soft and warm limbs, and even the odd cold touch. She stands still, holding her friends hands as it plays on her mind, Mr Jack’s riddle as she ponders, ‘I’m sure I know the answer, it’s on the tip of my tongue.’ The scarecrow places two hands together, lowering his head to Dorothy’s as he distracts, ‘Don’t think about it, lights were pretty weren’t they. Let’s go see more things!’
Quickly Scarecrow pulls her arm and the tin-man loosens his grip, letting her go with the scarecrow as he follows behind cautiously. Her head still a blur and thinking of the riddle, Scarecrow leads her to a small stall as she watches fairies no bigger than her little finger fly from a jar. Quickly she forgets and watches bright yellow, green and blue fairies fly from the container, fluttering around the stall before they burst into a rainbow of dust. Shocked, wondering if it’s magic she feels Scarecrow pulling at her again, taking in the sights of a stall as she peers through the masses. Odd insects float through the air, the hum of electricity drones in her ear and the neon constricts her pupils as she looks out to the different species; playing games and browsing through stalls just like people back home.
For a second she wonders if there’s much of a difference between the worlds, watching a baby seferine bounce a ball happily. Dorothy’s smile widens, watching the families wander as she catches something at the corner of her eye. Standing still, unmoved by the buzz of the crowd a figure waits, looking at her through the cover of a hood. She recognises the brown cloak and the green-scaled hands, the creature from the yellow road. Pulling at the scarecrow she points out to the crowds shouting, ‘Did you see that?’ and he looks quizzically, asking, ‘Se
e what?’ Her voice drifts as she looks again, the cloaked figure gone as she runs a hand over her face, murmuring, ‘He was there, I know he was.’ Feeling the scarecrow pull at her she hears his voice cheer, ‘Don’t worry, no need to think, let’s see more,’ as her eyes latch onto the tin-man in the distance and she stretches out an arm. Keeping his space at first he moves quicker as he notices her hand reaching and presses a metal palm against her skin. Asking, ‘Did you see the figure, in the cloak?’ the tin-man grumbles, ‘No,’ as the scarecrow stands in front, looking to a house of mirrors as he turns quickly, encouraging, ‘Can we go inside, it’s free, think what we can see.’ A little shaken at first Dorothy doesn’t answer, but as the faint, ‘I suppose…’ leaves her lips the scarecrow’s already inside as she stands at the door with the tin-man. Feeling a little vulnerable she takes a breath, telling herself she’s just on edge because she’s tired and hasn’t eaten yet. Even if the cloaked figure is here Dorothy knows she’s safe with her friends, and as she tells the tin-man, ‘We should go in,’ she hears the scarecrow’s voice echo, ‘How fascinating,’ as she smiles and steps inside.
Dorothy gives a faint giggle straight away, looking to the gangly scarecrow as his reflection portrays him short and fat. Staring in one mirror at himself he declares, ‘How peculiar,’ then moves to another which shows him even taller, thinner than usual as he scratches his head with, ‘Extraordinary!’ Dorothy follows him, looking at her reflection with a smile though more interested in Scarecrow’s as the tin-man trails behind, ignoring the mirrors. Looking at a strange child standing by a mirror the scarecrow pokes at his stretched out and chubby reflection as he smiles, ‘You look so odd, such a round head.’ He taps a hand on the little one’s brow and Dorothy laughs as she runs to his side. Holding his waist and keeping him in one position she stands behind him, stretching her arms to her sides as Scarecrow looks at his reflection, distort and unusual as he notices the extra pair of arms extending from his torso. Flapping his limbs he smiles broadly as his thin jagged mouth widens. ‘Well, I look very peculiar, though not as much as her,’ he says, pointing to a troll woman before taking Dorothy’s hand and whisking her to the next room. Looking at Dorothy’s face as she laughs the scarecrow touches her lips with his worn skin, giving an enthusiastic, ‘So pretty when you smile,’ before running away as his buttons adapt to the new room.
Still smiling, looking at the scarecrow Dorothy watches him run along a wall lined with a dozen mirrors, all showing a true reflection as he amazes himself. Quickly turning back to check the tin-man is behind her Dorothy follows the scarecrow through the maze of mirrors as the heartless metal man looks at his reflection, sure he should feel sad at what stares back at him. Pressing a cold hand against the glass he thinks of what’s been taken from him, the witch who changed him already dead as he follows Dorothy’s laughter, trying to ignore the face staring back at him. Her belly tightening with laughter she chases after the scarecrow as he moves quickly in front of her, touching at the glass and shouting with delight. Watching him push further into the maze she still smiles at his reaction, turning a corner to see him moving further away as she tries to keep up. Calling, ‘Scarecrow, wait,’ she watches him turn another corner, his reflection disappearing as she runs toward him, stretching out a hand and gliding her fingers along the glass.
Reaching the corner, she looks to see nothing but her own reflection, feeling a gap along the glass panels as she steps into another layer of the maze then back again. Calling out, ‘Scarecrow, Tin-man!’ she feels her muscles tighten, nerves peak as she looks around to see nothing besides herself, sure she couldn’t lose them so easily. Running along her original path she wonders if Scarecrow disappeared through the gap and debates going back to the beginning in hope of finding the tin-man.
Distraught, lost in the maze she calls out their names again, presses a hand against the glass and moves quickly, feeling at one, two, three gaps as the maze curves and she spins in a circle. Her heart beating faster and her patience brittle she runs through the maze, moving into a gap in the glass to run through another layer, then another as she starts to feel dizzy and leans against her reflection. Calling out their names again she looks ahead of her to a corridor full of mirrors, as her body slides down the glass and her head spins. Taking short breaths, trying to keep calm she notices a flicker in the mirrors and her eyes widen, waiting to see the scarecrow as the glimmer of a body comes again. Catching a glimpse of thick brown cloth, a grimy cloak she panics, and before she can stand the light quickly disappears, leaving her in darkness.
14
In the darkness Dorothy clenches a fist, keeping her body pressed against the glass and stands slowly. The seconds feel too long, as a faint sound of breathing comes closer and unexpectedly the lights beam again. Feeling the need to scream but repressing it the young girl looks in front of her to see a cloaked figure as she readies herself to attack, sure of who it is until she see hears the feeble voice. ‘Are you okay dear?’ the old lady asks, and Dorothy looks under the hood to see a wrinkled woman peering back at her worried. Her throat dry she feels relieved, and the old lady smiles, ‘It’s okay, let’s get you out of here shall we?’ Slowly nodding back Dorothy follows her, asking, ‘Have you seen anyone else in here, a scarecrow and a man made of metal?’ The old lady shakes her head, frowning, ‘Sorry dear, you’re the first person I’ve found,’ continuing, ‘you’re a smart girl though, I’m sure you’ll find them.’
Slowly finding their way out of the maze Dorothy thanks the old lady, and in return she clasps her hands as they stand outside the house of mirrors. ‘The honour’s mine, here take this,’ says the elderly woman, handing her a small pouch, ‘I’m sure you’ll need it.’ Dorothy smiles thankfully though trying to pull away as the woman’s grip tightens, ‘Please take it, a sign of my appreciation to the new witch of the east.’ Smiling at first Dorothy utters, ‘I…’ but the enthusiastic old lady presses, ‘You seem kind, you’ll do Oz well, please take it.’ Forcing it into her hands with a gleam in her eye the old lady walks away and Dorothy holds the pouch, shouting, ‘Thank you,’ as she opens it up to see a mound of silver coins. Comforted by the kind act she suddenly doesn’t feel so scared without her friends, and walks to the front of the house of mirrors, finding the owner who’s a scraggily man holding his brain in a jar. Dorothy asks him if he’s seen her friends and he points her to the left of the carnival, telling her they came out a few minutes ago. Wanting to believe him she still waits outside the house of mirrors for a minute longer, and then makes her way through the carnival.
Watching different species play unfamiliar games she catches the odd bursts of fairy dust and smiles, looking over to a stall where a creature with the body of a child stands tall, with its legs and arms like thin spiders legs. Looking at the game he tries to play Dorothy laughs as he holds a ball between his legs, stretching them out and touching the ring as the owner taps him on the shoulder yelling, ‘C’mon kid, the object’s to throw the ball.’ Covering her mouth with a hand, not wanting to seem rude she looks to a stall and the glimmer of an orange stone catches her eye as she spots it amongst a handful of necklaces. Touching at it with her fingers she holds the flat circular piece as it gleams against the light, spiralling different shapes as she holds the leather strap in her hand. Gently gasping, ‘It’s beautiful,’ she asks the stall owner how much and he smiles through webbed lips, ‘For you my dear just one silver, that’s real tangine stone y’know.’ Pulling a coin from her pouch she nods, ‘I’ll take it,’ as she watches the peculiar shapes move within the stone and quickly places it in her bag with Toto, patting him on the head with a smile. Stroking her small companion she says, ‘Oz isn’t so bad Toto, not so bad at all,’ thinking she’d like to take him out and hold him in her arms, but doesn’t want to risk losing him.
Feeling her stomach grumble she moves along again, ducking under a small rainbow as two children throw a circle back and forth, each time spiralling new colours. Smiling at her one of the childre
n laughs, ‘Sorry miss,’ and she smiles back, ‘No worries,’ as she looks into the distance hoping to see her friends. Walking past a food-stall Dorothy looks at the foreign items, some insects, sweets and others things she can’t describe except their unusual colours and shapes. Then she sees something that makes her curiosity quiver; two taps in front of long black curtains, as a weird shaped woman pours a glass of thick red juice and serves it to a customer.
Staring at the tough fabric, the tap moving slightly as the curtain shimmers her imagination runs wild, curious what’s hidden behind it as a strong hand grabs at her wrist. At first shocked, though with a sudden relief she’s sure it’s one of her friends and turns around to see the cloaked figure next to her, leering a thick, ‘How much?’ Pulling her arm away Dorothy looks to the figure, its scaled hand riddled with leeches as darkness hides its face. Moving quickly she turns from the stranger and walks, her legs tensed like pistons as she distances herself and looks to see him stand still at first, but then he follows.
Dorothy: The Darker Side of OZ v5 Page 8
