The Blizzard of Oz

The Kansas prairies always appeared endless to Dorothy Gale; just a flat stretch of flat land where winds never tired of running over, and the sky hung wide and restless. Yet on this day, as young Dorothy pressed her nose against the frosted glass of the farmhouse window, even the prairie looked completely different. The world outside had been swallowed whole by snow. The fields, the fences, the crooked old windmill; pretty much all of it was covered in fresh white snow. The air itself also seemed so heavy, filled with flurries so thick the young girl could hardly see beyond the yard. The sky was a dull iron grey and was low and brooding as though it desired to crush the earth beneath its immense weight.

Inside the small farmhouse efforts being were made to keep the storm at bay. Aunt Em had stirred up a pot of stew on the stove, while Uncle Henry sat near the hearth mending a leather harness with deliberate patience. The fire popped and crackled as it fought hard to provide warmth, all while the icy winds rattled the shutters fiercely. They shook so hard, that everyone inside feared the storm might swallow those too. Dorothy rested her chin on her hands and deeply sighed. She had been back from Oz for many months now, yet the memory of its golden roads, emerald towers, and merry companions never left her thoughts. Sometimes, when the days were long and uneventful, she caught herself wishing, just a little, that something marvellous event happen again and send her back to that magical land.

Laying on her lap, Toto gave a small yawn and curled tighter into her for warmth. His ears twitched with every gust of wind, and now and then he gave a short, uneasy growl as he was unimpressed with the storm outside. Dorothy looked down as she scratched behind his ears.

“You sense it too, don’t you, Toto?” she softly whispered. “It isn’t just a storm. It feels different.”

“Best keep away from that window, young lady,” Aunt Em called to her without looking up. “That wind could blow its cold through the glass and give you a chill.”

“Yes, Aunt Em,” Dorothy replied, though she did not move. For something about the storm that kept her undivided attention.

The more she watched the storm, the more it felt like the snow wasn’t simply falling but furiously whirling around the house. It circled and danced about, not in the careless fashion you would see from most flurries, but as if they were being guided by an unseen hand. The longer Dorothy watched the more certain she became that patterns were forming in the air. Rings, loops, and even spirals, shapes that seemed familiar in a way the young girl could not explain.

“Never seen snow like this,” Uncle Henry muttered after clearing his throat, “If it keeps up, we could be drifted in till spring.”

Dorothy turned toward to face her uncle with a wrinkled brow.

“Uncle Henry,” Dorothy started, “Do you suppose storms can have... feelings?”

“Feelings?” her uncle said, as he gave out a loud chuckle, “Storms don’t have feelings, little lady. They just come and go whenever about they please, and that’s the end of it.”

Dorothy wasn’t so sure that day. There was something in the heart of that blizzard that made her believe it was watching them. Without warning, the wind gave a sharp howl that was high and wild, like a pack of hangry wolves. The shutters continued to bang against the wall, to the point where the lamp flickered. Toto sprang to his feet, barking furiously now, as though he sensed there was an intruder.

Then Dorothy saw it.

In the very center of the storm, where the snow spun fastest, a faint light shimmered. It was a bluish, silver, like moonlight that appeared to be glancing off water. It pulsed steadily in the rhythm of a heartbeat. Dorothy pressed her hand against the cold glass and softly gasped.

“What’s going on, child?” her aunt asked, as she was a little distressed by the look on her niece’s face.

“I don’t actually know,” Dorothy replied, “But it feels like the storm is calling me.”

“I’ve had enough of fairy notions,” her uncle replied, “It’s best not go about thinking every odd light in the sky is caused by some kind of magic.”

Even as her aunt and uncle were speaking, Dorothy kept watching as the glow she was watching started to grow brighter. The snow thickened around the phenomenon, which caused it to turn into a rather large white ring.

Dorothy even thought she could hear faint music beneath the loud whistling of the storm. There was a moment the young girl thought she heard bells, and even children’s laughter carrying over from a great distance. Even Toto barked from her lap at the door as even the little pooch appeared to sense something was amiss as the latch rattled.

“Now see here...” Aunt Em started to call out, but before she could say or do anything about it, the door burst open with a thunderous crash.

A blast of icy winds swept into the house, scattering some stew from the pot and blowing papers off the table. The fire even gasped and nearly died out as Dorothy screamed as the weather appeared to seize her like a giant hand reaching into the house as she was lifted from the floor.

“Toto!” Dorothy shouted, as she clutched the little dog tightly to her chest. His small heart hammered against hers as he whined in fright.

“Dorothy!” Aunt Em’s voice was faint as she was swallowed by the storm. “Dorothy!”

Snow whirled around her, and despite how cold it was the snow was strangely soft, as it muffled everything in a white haze. The farmhouse, Aunt Em, Uncle Henry, the farmhouse all vanished into the swirling dark. Dorothy kept clutching onto Toto as she tumbled end over end through the blizzard. The flakes stung her cheeks like tiny needles as she appeared to get closer and closer to that strange silver light ahead.

“It’s all right, Toto!” Dorothy reassured her companion, “It’s all right! I won’t let go!”

As the light grew larger there was no longer a flicker, but instead a shining ring that was spinning faster and faster until it filled her vision. Dorothy felt herself being pulled through it, far away from the farmhouse in Kansas, out of everything she had ever known. For a breathless instant, she and Toto seemed to be falling through a tunnel of snowflakes, each flake glimmering like a tiny star... and then there was silence.

The wind had stopped, and the biting cold air had lifted. Dorothy blinked, still shivering, but found herself lying on her back in a soft drift of powdery snow. Toto scrambled free from her arms, shaking himself so violently that snow flew in every direction. When Dorothy sat up and looked around, her heart leapt into her throat.

She wasn’t in not Kansas anymore.

As Dorothy sat up, it was hard not to notice the snow in her new surroundings sparkled as though each snowflake had been cut from a diamond. She was surrounded by towering trees with trunks of pale blue ice high above her, their branches draped with icicles that chimed faintly in the still air. The sky was not grey but a deep, twilight purple, streaking with silver clouds. Even Toto barked sharply, his tail stiff as a family of white rabbits, standing on their hind legs, peered curiously from behind a snowbank, their pink eyes glowing like lanterns. Dorothy gasped and clutched her chest. And even though the air was colder than any Kansas winter, Dorothy felt a warm feeling run through her, for she knew without a doubt that they were.

“Oh, Toto,” she whispered. “We’re back.”