OZ

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∂σяσтнү's eyes fluttered as the bright morning sun hit her face. The young girl sighed as she sat up and stretched, her brown eyes sleepily looking for Toto. After one final stretch, Dorothy stood and brushed dirt off of her worn blue gingham, calling out softly for the old dog. "Toto? Toto!"

It wasn't until she stood on the destroyed yellow bricks that the previous days events came flashing back. A sob choked her throat and hot tears ran over her cheeks. She'll never forget that old dog. Taking a deep breath, Dorothy wiped her face on her sleeve and looked back towards Munchkinland one last time, before continuing on the yellow bricks toward the Scarecrow's field.

Dorothy approached the fork in the road at the edge of the corn fields, looking sadly down the two paths of the Yellow Brick Road just as she had six years ago. Once again the Scarecrow was hanging from his stake, the crows perched on his shoulders laughing and whispering to eachother. The crows' beady eyes watched her steadily, never leaving her face.

Looking around at the presently cheerful fields she decided not to stay for much longer, remembering how merry Munchkinland had seemed for the briefest of moments before it was replaced with Jitterbugs and murderous Munchkins.

She would just help the Scarecrow down again.

When she started walking up to the Scarecrow, the crows became eerily silent, their heads turning slowly to watch her closely. When she got close enough to start reaching for the bent, rusty nail on the back of the Scarecrow's stake, the crows began whispering again, getting louder and more frantic as Dorothy pushed down on the nail.

"SAY THE LINE! SAY THE LINE!"

Dorothy stepped back, waiting for the Scarecrow to slide off of the stake, free once again, but he just looked at her and shook his head sadly, speaking slowly in a raspy voice that sounded as if it had not been used in a long while.  "That wasn't the line."

The two crows on his shoulders flapped their wings and screamed repeatedly "NOT THE LINE! NOT THE LINE!" as thick grey smoke began to billow up  from between the golden bricks that had been so carefully laid on the path. Once again the colors of Oz began to fade, turning the vibrant green fields to a muddy brown and transforming the smooth Yellow Brick Road to a dull colored road filled with potholes. Dorothy stood, frozen in fear, as the smoke quickly drifted away, leaving the Scarecrow and the two crows seemingly unchanged, the only difference being that the Scarecrow's wide brimmed hat was tilted, obscuring his face.

"Are you alright?" She asked timidly. Worried about what the smoke had done to her friend, Dorothy stepped closer. He seemed different somehow. More....How could she put it?

More human.

She could feel the warmth coming from his body, noting the strangeness of it as she pushed lightly at the brim of his hat. Before he he had been cool to the touch, being made of cloth and all. She shook her head. No. He had always been warm. She was just imagining things. She moved the hat and got her first close look at the Scarecrow's face in six years.

She screamed and covered her mouth in horror, tears beginning to form in her brown eyes.

His painted cloth face had been replaced by flesh and blood, as had the rest of his previously hay stuffed body. Large black buttons had been sewn onto his eyes, forcing his eyelids to be pushed up and over the edges of the bloody buttons. Thick, red thread sewed his mouth closed; pulling his lips up into a wide cartoon smile stretching from ear to ear. A thick rope was tied around his neck, holding him to the stake yet somehow he was still breathing, and his hands were sewn in such a way that only the first finger of each hand could move freely.

Dorothy's jaw dropped as she realised why.

So he would always be pointing in the right direction.

Backing away, Dorothy tripped on a loose brick, falling and scraping her hands, still crying. The Scarecrow waved his hands frantically, putting his finger to his bloody face, trying to silence her. When she finally stopped, he beckonned her closer, pointing to the rope around his neck and back at her again and again frantically, concern showing slightly on his face.

Gathering her courage, Dorothy shakily stood, walking forward slowly, blood dripping from the cuts on her hands, spotting the yellow brick with blood. Attempting a nod, the Scarecrow pointed once more at the rope around his neck, tilting his hat with one hand so she would not have to look at his face. Stepping around the Scarecrow, Dorothy untied the rope, hands shaking and eyes closed. The Scarecrow fell to the ground and the crows flew away, screaming.

"SHE'S HERE! SHE'S HERE!"

With his hat still obscuring his face, the Scarecow pawed at Dorothy's arm, unable to grab it, and pointed down the Yellow Brick Road. She grabbed his arm, reaching for his hat and he stiffened, pulling away from her. Tilting his hat up, she looked at his ruined face, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Who did this to you?"

The Scarecrow used both of his hands to flip her hand over, dipping his finger in the blood on her hand before kneeling in the middle of the road and writing in shaky letters-

WICKED WITCH

Dorothy looked at him, speechless, shock written across her face. He nodded, linking his arm through her's and pulling her up from her seat next to him, pulling her down the road first at a brisk walk, then at a run.

"Where are we going?"

The Scarecrow pulled her along even faster, pointing down at the ground and then straight ahead, looking at her to see if she understood. She smiled.

"We're off to see the Wizard."