Dorothy: The Darker Side of OZ v5 Page 10

  The father had lost his job because he cut his own fingers off when chopping wood, what a silly man, and the poor mother was so sick she could barely walk. Though the worst was that in sickness and with no money they had to raise two ten year old boys. So for months the family sold their possessions for food, but made sure that they kept their warmest set of clothes. First the tables, chairs and beds went, and the poor sick mother had to rest on the floor. With no furniture they had enough food for a month, and that month was good, until there was nothing left to eat.

  Then the Father tried to pick fruit from barren trees and hunt for fare, only to be attacked by a lion and lost one of his eyes. Quickly he sold his tools to feed the family, and didn’t even think of paying to see a doctor. Content on rationing their food they ate for another month, though the mother’s sickness was getting worse with so little to eat, and the father ate less to give her more.

  Then the next month the father sold everything but the blankets they had to sleep on, and the clothes on their backs. The children’s toys went too, how sad they were that day. Then that month the father ate even less and gave more to the mother, as did one of the boys. His father was so proud of him, though understood why his other son would not share, as they were all so hungry.

  Soon they had run out of food again, though this time had nothing to sell, and the father’s blindness quickly spread to the other eye.

  With the parents too sick to leave the hut they sent their two young boys to try and find food or money. That day the father told them to be careful, and understood why they may not want to come back to such a poor miserable home, but he begged them to be kind and bring back food for their sick mother, as he had suffered so much to feed them all and loved her so.

  Now alone in the wide world the brothers set out, one who tried his hardest to find food and money, and the other who simply didn’t care. At first the good son sat at the side of the yellow road begging for money day and night whilst his brother played games and slept contently. Waking in the night the bad son would creep into the forest and eat bread that he’d been stuffing into his pockets for days, not wanting to share.

  Soon without food, and having made no money at all the good son decided he had to try to hunt, even though he hated the thought of it. Unsuccessful at first he persisted all day and night even though he was tired and weak, starving whilst the bad son trailed behind eating pieces of bread and crushing insects happily. That night the good son struggled through the dark forest, trying to keep awake as he hopelessly hunted for food, and by chance he stumbled into a lion cub. Scared at first and his hunger ravenous he didn’t know what to do, but when the cub told him that his family was killed by a pack of kalidahs and he was lost in the forest, the good son couldn’t bear to harm him. Though the bad son eagerly grabbed at a shard of wood when he saw how weak the cub was, wanting to kill it even though his stomach was full of bread. The good son protected the animal, and that night they slept together in the forest as the bad son crept away to eat his supper.

  Over the next few days, the good son and the lion survived on leaves and grass alone, begging for money at the side of the yellow road as they played games and kept each other warm through the nights. Then one day the bad son realised that he had run out of bread, and as he watched his brother and the cub begging he didn’t know what to do. Their begging had gotten them no money and later that day as they walked along the road, the bad son noticed that a small deformed munchkin was imploring passers-by for loose change. He watched as they looked down at the cripple’s broken legs and misshapen features, either laughing as they passed or sighing out of pity, throwing money into the small creature’s can.

  Later that night having eaten leaves from a dying tree the good son was ill, and the cub laid next to him, keeping him warm as the bad son watched, feeling a rumble in his stomach. He was not starving yet, but he was hungry, and because of that he waited until his brother and the cub slept, and then found the heaviest stone he could lay his hands on.

  Deforming his good brother beyond belief he knew the cub would protect his friend, and tore out chunks of his hair, threatening, ‘If you harm me lion I will kill my brother.’ Scared that his only friend may die the cub was obedient and protected his friend, begging that he not be hurt anymore.

  The following morning the bad son made the cub carry his deformed brother, and they waited by the side of the road for passers-by. As they came, the bad son exhibited his brother, showing him off to the crowds as he begged for help, pleading through a shattered jaw and nursing mangled bones. That day the bad son earned enough money to feed himself, and within a week he earned enough to buy a small cart: which he sat in, and made the lion pull as well as carry the good son on his back.

  Now as the months passed, the bad son had become very successful in exhibiting his brother, and made so much silver and gold that he couldn’t count it all. In fact he earned so much money he could feed himself, his brother and the lion, but more importantly he made sure that the lion was tamed, and he paid men to make his good brother look even more horrid than ever before.

  Then one day he bought a carriage to travel in, and he continued to travel around Oz, scorning the lion for silver as the crowds watched in amazement, and presenting his brother for gold. After some time the bad son, now eleven years old, decided he should go to his parent’s dreary little hut. So after days of travelling he finally arrived, and as he stepped inside the home he grew up in, he saw his parents’ dead on the floor and simply turned his back.

  Now children, with that in mind I have some very bad news, and that is that one of our special guests died yesterday…’

  The crowd groan sadly, almost humouring the ringleader as he pulls a mock frown: ‘But don’t be sad. As it has taken years to perfect this special exhibit, and he is a true rarity, I didn’t want you to miss out. So although he’s a little cold I present for his last public appearance, the good son, and the lion.’

  Dramatically the curtain opens, the folds quickly pulled aside as Mr Jack moves with them, not wanting to obscure the spotlight on the show’s stars. Dorothy looks out to the stage as she covers her mouth, astonished and sickened by the sight as Scarecrow stares, tilting his head confused, ‘Don’t think I like looking at this.’ Propped up in a chair the good son sits lifelessly, and the lion crouches on all fours with a broad metal collar around his neck, chaining him to the floor. With his thick brown coat dirty and his mane dishevelled, broad scars spread along his muscular body and patches of his skin stand out a dark pink where he’s be sheered brutally. Roaring to the audience his thick white teeth gleam and he stares fearsomely with a single yellow eye as a scar stretches through the other; leaving it a dead crystal white as the wound spans from the tip of his forehead down to the left side of his snout. Moving his feet along the stage his thick black claws cut at the wood effortlessly, and painfully he stands on his two back legs, stretching to seven feet before hunching its back like a human. With the veins bulging through its strong body the creature stands tall again, its tail lingering above the floor as the fierce beast lifts one of its front legs to wave at the audience like it’s been taught, snarling occasionally with a sad glare. The crowds watch in awe at the lion, as Mr Jack clicks his fingers and the animal roars a fierce battle cry. Dorothy stares, amazed at the size of the creature, as its head alone is half the size of her. She’d never seen a lion before, not even been to a zoo as she watches a gnome walk onto the stage. Then Mr Jack proudly smiles to the audience, twirling his cane again as he allures:

  ‘Now my dear audience, this looks like a fierce lion does it not?’

  The crowd groans in compliance, smiling with their comments as the ringleader stretches a hand out to them and places it against his ear, taunting, ‘I can’t hear you!’ as they groan again, this time louder as some cheer and Mr Jack responds:

  ‘Well I beg to differ…As you have seen he can stand like a human and he’s been taught to wave, but I’m going to demonstrate to you, how
I Mr Jack have tamed the king of the beasts.’

  With a click of the ringleader’s fingers, the lion folds his body down to the floor and stands on all flours again, looking with a hungry glare at the audience as its fearsome jaws slowly open. Dorothy watches the beast, its sad yellow eye watering as Mr Jack shouts out to the audience:

  ‘Are any of you brave enough to put your head in this lion’s mouth?’

  Suddenly the odd mutters, the groans of entertainment fall silent and the audience looks to the smiling host. Lingering on their lack of response he laughs to himself, pointing his cane first to an elderly hammerhead, then at Dorothy as she looks back at him with contempt. So retracting his stick he places it on his shoulder adding, ‘Tough crowd!’ as the gnome steps from beside him and approaches the lion. Watching him with disgust the animal thinks of sinking his teeth into the flesh of the gnome this time, but as the ringleader plays to the crowd he feels the small hands against his lips and waits obediently.

  ‘Well lucky for us we have a small friend that’s braver than you!’ Mr Jack goads as the gnome places his head into the lion’s mouth, feeling the saliva along his brow as he smiles to the audience, accepting their cheers. Dorothy watches unmoved, refusing to take entertainment in the creature’s misery as he stands solemnly, waiting for it all to end. Then as the gnome removes his head the lion closes his mouth, unable to get rid of the sour taste as Mr Jack clicks his fingers:

  ‘Now I know that looked fun, but I’m sure you know that the best way to prove you’ve tamed an animal…is to do your worst to it.’

  With a carved smile stretching along his pale skin he runs next to the lion, screaming in his ear, ‘Your mother’s a squirrel!’ as the audience laugh and the beast stands still, preparing himself as a hooded man hands the ringleader a cat o’ nine tails. Throwing his cane to the assistant Mr Jack holds the whip tightly, standing next to the lion as it tenses his muscles, waiting for the pain as the ringleader stresses:

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen I give you, the cowardly lion.’

  Then the whip comes down, again, and again as the creature feels himself weaken, letting the pain and blood spread over his body as Dorothy closes her eyes, unable to watch as she whispers, ‘Poor thing’, to hear the whip crack its skin open. Thinking she should do something, make it stop she knows she can’t, not if it means risking her chance to get home, and her own selfishness tears her insides apart.

  Soon the lion lies bleeding on the floor and Mr Jack drops the whip with a smile. The show’s over, and as the tortured beast is dragged offstage the blood smears under him as the ringleader boasts:

  ‘Well I hope you enjoyed the show, it is my pride and joy. And remember kids, if you know anyone unusual, I want them. Goodnight!’

  Abruptly the curtains close, the spotlight disappears and the dim light re-emerges as Dorothy finally opens her tearful eyes. Looking at her the scarecrow sulks, ‘Wasn’t good to watch was it?’ and she wipes away the tears, shaking her head as she grits her teeth. Without another word she stands from her seat and walks back into the dim corridor, letting her friends follow behind her as she feels the invisible gnomes groping at her legs again to give a solid kick, and then another as its yelp echoes and she leaves quickly.

  Outside she catches her breath, running a cold hand along her face as she clears away the moistness from her eyes and watches Scarecrow and the tin-man coming closer. Tilting his head the scarecrow gently places a hand against Dorothy’s shoulder, looking at the bitter expression as his thin mouth opens. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, and the girl tries to hold in her temper as she looks at him fiercely, ‘You don’t understand do you?’ Shaking his head slightly, confused he slowly replies, ‘No,’ as Dorothy continues, pointing to the tin-man, ‘He was right, this place…we…’ Then at the corner of her eye the girl watches the twisted ringleader approach suavely, stretching his long thin red lips and asking confidently, ‘Enjoy the show?’ Dorothy doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at him in disgust, wanting to tell him how she feels as she holds her tongue, knowing it won’t help. As the silence grows Mr Jack groans, and a thought sticks into Dorothy’s mind, imbeds itself firmly as she smirks:

  ‘I know the answer to your riddle; 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,’

  ‘Please do tell,’ the intrigued ringleader smiles, to which Dorothy confidently answers, ‘It’s a coffin, and I hope you’re in one soon,’ as she turns her back on Mr Jack, walking away with Tin-man and the scarecrow. Watching her leave a sick smile cuts along his face as he looks at the glimmer of her silver shoes, and scratches an un-gloved hand against his cheek. The jagged nails cut at the skin and he chatters, ‘Hate the game not the player sweetie, you may be part of it soon.’

  Walking through the carnival in silence Dorothy ignores the sights, doesn’t care about the games or the bright colours. Instead she thinks, plans as the scarecrow asks, ‘It’s very dark, are you tired Dorothy?’ and she answers with fury in her eyes, ‘Yes, but we can’t sleep here tonight.’

  THE COWARDLY LION

  16

  In the small hut they intended to spend the night Dorothy waits, looking out of the window as the carnival’s crowds slowly die down and she struggles to stay awake. She’d been keeping watch for an hour now, maybe longer as she’d seen the masses leave whilst the stall owners packed away their things. Now the carnival seems empty, and confident there’s not a body in sight the girl moves from the window, looking at her friends as she tells them again:

  ‘Tin-man, when we find where the cages are kept I need you to keep watch. Scarecrow you come with me, and when we’re finished we leave quickly and get as far away as we can before stopping. Agreed?’

  The tin-man nods his head with a metal creek and the scarecrow looks confused, scratching his burlap sack as he nods, ‘Sure thing Dorothy, whatever you say.’ Still with the thin bag wrapped around her body Dorothy feels at Toto and grabs the wicker basket, as the tin-man clutches at his axe and the scarecrow picks up the pitchfork with a smile.

  Leaving the small hut Dorothy closes the door quietly, watching the scarecrow look around, amazed at the quiet stalls, the neon lights now dim as he’s about to speak. Quickly Dorothy places a finger to her lips, shaking her head as the scarecrow mimics then smiles, trying his hardest to understand. Creeping through the barren carnival Dorothy feels the dirty ground under her feet, listens for the slightest sound and looks up at the trees surrounding them, fully aware of their capability. Quietly she takes a deep breath as they make their way back to the freak show, sneaking along the stalls and behind small tents as they find themselves at the entrance. Listening carefully Dorothy hears voices in the distance and orders the tin-man to keep watch as she creeps toward them. With the scarecrow beside her she makes him crouch down as his thin body scurries along the floor and she moves in front, creeping along the back of the freak show as she looks to a large tent. With voices coming from inside she’s curious and points to the scarecrow, whispering, ‘Stay there!’ as she gets closer, checking there’s no-one on guard as she moves, pressing her body against the thick plastic sheets to hear Mr Jack’s voice. He croaks a wriggled, ‘Well do any of you sadists want to take this one home, she was a gift from Outika y’know,’ and Dorothy looks at the thick plastic sheet, finding a small hole as she moves to it and looks inside.

  She watches Mr Jack standing in front of a row of caged creatures, tapping his fingers along the snake woman’s cell as he barters with a masked man in rags. Selling her he smiles with, ‘Now she’s yours,’ as a feeble couple approach the ringleader, pushing a pram in front of them as Mr Jack pulls away a blanket and looks inside. Stretching his arms the crooked keeper’s ecstatic as he screams, ‘What a horrid little child, I’ll take her. Do you have anymore?’ Looking in shock, her throat dry and limbs tensed Dorothy pulls away from the tent and looks in the distance to see a row of cages, as she creeps towards them with th
e scarecrow following. Her eyes focusing on the dozen cells she dashes past them quietly; the first one empty, the second, the third, and then she stands in front of a beast’s cage, watching as the cowardly lion looks out at her.

  Grabbing at the thick metal deadbolt across the cell Dorothy pulls with all her strength, swinging the door open as she stretches a hand inside. Cowered in a corner the lion presses its body against the bars and the girl climbs in, calling, ‘Come with me, it’s okay,’ as the animal raises a claw in the air and growls. Snaring its teeth at Dorothy and ready to swipe its strong paw the girl slaps the lion’s scarred face as hard as she can, sternly pressing, ‘Don’t you dare, we’re here to help you. Come with us!’ Lowering its claw the savage looking beast withdraws its teeth and timidly growls, ‘I can’t, he, he killed my only friend.’ Quickly snapping Dorothy bites, ‘That’s why you have to come with us, or you’ll be next.’ The lion feels tears drip through its fur, whimpering a deep, ‘I don’t care, can’t leave, he’ll find me… have no courage.’ With a quick thought, one of Scarecrow’s few he offers, ‘We’re going to see the wizard, maybe he can…’ but Dorothy snarls at him, ‘Not Now!’ Turning to the beast, baring her teeth the girl’s voice stresses, ‘We’ve risked a lot coming back for you, and look at yourself. You have nothing left to lose, he’s taken everything. You’re coming with us now!’

  Grabbing at the lion’s mane, she pulls firmly and he follows her out of the cage. Jumping to the floor Dorothy guides him out as his solid weight lands on the ground and the cage gives a thud of relief. Looking down at him as he stands on all fours Dorothy lets go of his mane with a firm, ‘I need you to be quiet and stay close to us,’ as he stares at her with a gruff, ‘I’m scared.’ Feeling her eyes begin to water Dorothy crouches down, placing a gentle hand against his face as she looks at his scarred white eye. She strokes at his soft snout, feeling the warmth of his breath against her hand as he leans into her, feeling a comfort he’d long forgotten. ‘You don’t need to be scared,’ she says softly, ‘but we have to leave!’