Okay, so I was going to post another book review today, but then I wrote a piece for a Friday writing competition that I try to enter when I can. It was too long to be considered for the competition, but I submitted it anyway, hoping people would read it and like it. So, here you are for your own pure enjoyment. I had a blast writing this, and I hope you get as much of a kick out of it as I have already.
“Auntie Em! Auntie Em!”
Dorothy put a hand to her mouth and called.
“Auntie Em! Uncle Henry!”
The tornado brought to life by the impending storm kicked up dust around the small farmhouse she had called home for most of her life. Wind whipping around her skirts, she searched high and low for her aunt and uncle. “Auntie Em!…Uncle Henry!…”
The whistling from the gusts around her drowned out her voice. Her desperate calls were useless.
“Dorothy come on!”
One of the farmhands, a young man about her age named John, held a hand out to her. She looked upon it, contemplating taking it and letting him lead her to safety in the cellar, but shook her head.
“No! I have to find them!”
John kept his hand out and urged, “It is too late! We must go!”
“No!” Dorothy ran off, picking her way through tangles of branches and various debris caused by the tornado’s intensity.
John growled in frustration and followed her, knowing that if she was harmed in any way her guardians would have his hide. If they were still alive, that is.
Dorothy kept calling out, not wanting to go without them. “Auntie Em! Uncle Henry!”
An unnaturally loud cackle stopped Dorothy in her tracks. John heard it too and stopped mere feet from the girl.
“What is that?” John asked her.
Dorothy answered back, “I don’t know!” However, she very well knew what, or shall we say who, it was.
But…that was impossible. She…she was supposed to be dead.
The cackling continued, growing even more ferocious with each passing second.
Dorothy looked up, unable to speak, fear bubbling up inside of her. The tornado, one moment grey with dust, had turned a sickeningly ugly shade of green.
A face Dorothy had not seen in years looked out at her.
“Well, hello my pretty.”
Dorothy subconsciously backed away. “W-W-Wicked Witch.” Her voice was soft and trembled.
“You remember.” The Wicked Witch of the West nodded her head in acknowledgement, then continued. “I suppose you wonder why, or how, I have come to be here?”
Dorothy did not answer, knowing that even if she did agree with the question, it did not mean she would like the answer any less.
“Let me explain, then….I have come to exact the revenge you so rightly deserve.”
Her cackling once again commenced as a fiery rain pounded down upon Dorothy and John. Their skin melted with each drop, the witch’s monstrous laughter drowning out their screams.
Once again, too many words to submit. But when a story comes to me, I can’t stop. Enjoy!