Dorothy looked frightened at what she had done, “I shouldn’t have done that…” she muttered.
Dorothy had just killed the witch of the west of what used to be the witch’s castle. She regretted it sourly now. She wore a blue and purple dress with blonde pigtails.
Then the castle that had looked dirty and worn repaired itself somehow. The trees that had fallen got themselves back up and the grey walls turned white bricks and the spikes shrunk down into bushes and beautiful scenery.
The flying monkeys had turned into Fairies and dwarves and other such creatures. the creatures looked at themselves in awe, “I have hair! I have hair!” a centaur said, (half human, half horse), rubbing his thick brown hair soothingly.
And so, the witches of the other three corners of Oz came through a portal. The witch of the North smiled, which made Dorothy uneasy.
“Well, done, dear Dorothy!” the witch of the East said, clapping her hands, happily.
“If you would like, we can take you to see the wizard of Oz.”
This didn’t make Dorothy feel any better than the witch had. Her family treated her like a sack of dirt. She thought about staying, maybe on the way she could say so to them. She put her chin up and started to walk towards them, when she bounced backwards.
The people around her started gasping and one of the centaurs ran towards her. “No one touch her!” the centaur said, “I’m a witch doctor. And it is my expert opinion that this was no curse…”
“Then what is it?” a fairy asked, a fairy who stood two inches tall with a wand in her hand and a purple dress with a squeaky voice. She looked young, as though she’d just started.
“She is being possessed by the Queen herself.”
Everyone gasps and whispers. “But the Queen’s dead!” a talking badger said, nervously.
“What about the prophecy!” a fairy asked, “it said she would defeat the witch!”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean the witch is dead,” the witch of the North said. “It just means she’ll be defeated as in turning all of you back into your charming selves.”
“Her magic was defeated. Not the witch itself,” the witch of the East said.
The witch doctor centaur talked businesslike, “When one destroys the prophesied one, then the killer becomes the prophesied one…” he pointed at her body, “to ensure the future of Oz… THAT GIRL WILL DIE ON THE STONE MOUNTAIN!”
Everyone started gasping and panting. The 3 witches started to get all hasty. The North witch especially, “Now, now, firx--”
“Why would you want the Queen alive, witch?” Firx said, “didn’t you of all people want the queen dead? Weren’t you the very person that told her to kill the witch and bring peace to Oz in the first place?”
“My intentions were--”
“Bah!” the tin man said, still on the ground, clutching a sword, “your intentions! She was once a student of yours! Why would you want her dead, anyways!”
The witch of the North looked scared, then she smiled. She raised her hand and the witch’s body burned to the ground. She raised another hand and Dorothy’s body floated above the ground. “To prove I despise dark magic and dark witches,” the witch said, annoyed, “I will kill the girl on top of the magical boundaries of the stone mountain…” then her eyes flashed, “WITHOUT MAGIC!”
Everyone looked slightly scared. “I will come with,” a centaur warrior said, clutching his bow, “to make sure she does it.
“And my knowledge of witch magic will be useful,” Firx said.
“And you’ll need a guide through the forest,” a rabbit said, “my knowledge of plants and animals will be useful.”
“Very well,” the witch of the North snapped, “we will all be going to the stone mountain.”
“And to make sure we can trust you,” a rabbit said, “you will be without magic.”
“How can we ensure that?” the centaur with the arrows asked.
“I can,” he walked over and put on a bracelet of silver and a gold outline on her wrist. “This will contain your magic. You will have no way of using magic.”
The witch of the North scowled. “Very well. You have my magic. Shouldn’t we be off?”
Everyone nodded. It was settled. They were off to the stone mountain with a witch, two centaurs and a rabbit.
In a forest, they had been walking through, there were leaves all over the witch of the North’s once white dress, she had been looking sourly for days. “How much farther is the stone mountain?” she snapped.
“Why you, if you get us lost, I’ll--”
“Watch your tongue, witch,” the rabbit said, drawing his word, “before you lose it.”
Dorothy’s floating body followed behind the witch of the North for several days now. The only way she could use magic is if she was using the lightest magic of all: Pymner magic. The magic that is also the weakest as well as being lightest and morally good.
They were about to cross the river across a bridge when a magical creature of some kind whereas the head is a woman’s but has the body of a lion with a crown of some sort on its head. The centaur warrior drew his sword as did the rabbit.
The creature laughed. The witch of the North was simply in disgust. “What are you?” she asked, not regretting the rudeness.
“There will be no need for that,” the creature said eyeing the sword. The centaur put it away. The rabbit hesitated but did so as well. “That is if you can answer my riddle correctly:
“Duels of good and evil,
A fighter of good am I,
Revealed beside watched words,
King of the black night sky.
What am I?”
“The dark!” the witch said almost immediately.
The sphinx nodded and let her cross the bridge. The centaurs and the rabbit were about to cross but the sphinx did not let them pass as well. “She guessed correctly. She can cross. But I think I’ll have you as a snack!”
They once more, drew their weapons. With a massive paw, she swipes their swords and it falls into the flowing river. She opened her mouth to reveal massive jaws.
The bunny and the centaur backed up. “You know any spells?” the centaur asked from the corner of his mouth.
“I know some,” Firx said, “but they’re not very good, but could get us past a sphinx.”
Firx drew his wand from his belt and shouted, “Alerta momentum!” and a blast of silver light erupted from his wand that blinded the sphinx while the centaur and the rabbit ran past her and onto the bridge.
The centaur continued to hold up his wand as he walked around the sphinx who was still blinded by the silver light.
They had made it through the trees leaving a very agitated Sphinx.
“That was too close,” the bunny said.
“We should be more prepared for future obstacles,” the centaur warrior said.
Firx looked around them. “Where’s the witch of the North?” silence washed over them. Then they looked around. “I honestly don’t know…” the centaur warrior said, he too looked around.
“Here,” the rabbit said, looking over something, with a darkened look on his face. Firx and the warrior trotted over. “Synder, I think you especially should keep an eye out,” the rabbit said.
The warrior named Synder drew his sword just in case as he looked around. Then, Firx saw her. The wicked witch of the West in the form of Dorothy, but the wicked witch was going back to her true self. Dorothy was slightly taller and was pale green from her forehead to her feet.
“Firx, you’re a witch doctor. What the Hell is happening to Dorothy?” The rabbit said.
“The wicked witch is spreading poison through her body. Soon, Dorothy’s body will be nothing and the wicked witch will resign Oz once more.”
“Unless we kill her!” they heard the witch say from behind them. Everyone turned around to see the witch, her face covered in dirt and her once gorgeous white dress now with holes and ripped to shreds.
She had a crazy look in her eye. She was desperate to use magic… “I can kill her right now if you just take this bracelet off me!”
Everyone just looked at her. They looked at her as though she was crazy.
Because she is.
“No,” Firx said after some moment of hesitation, “she’ll die harder if we kill her at the stone mountain,” Firx just realized what he had said. Killing a girl on a mountain so that she died harder? It’s for the safety of Oz, he told himself, but somewhere deep down he knows it isn’t true. Was it for revenge? For the flying monkey business?
“You okay, Firx?” Synder asked, looking worried, “Ya look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“You’re not far off,” Firx said eyeing Dorothy.
There was some sort of enchantment that stopped the witch of the North from using her magic, so Dorothy rode on Firx’s back until they got to the stone mountain.
The mountain wasn’t even visible.
“You got us lost didn’t you?” the rabbit said, looking at Firx, suspiciously.
Firx took out his wand and poitned it at the trees, “Finiques Speciallo,” he muttered and a wave of light shot through the forest. Firx started to follow it, “come on, before it goes away.”
While firx trotted after it, the north witch, the rabbit, and Synder each exchanged looks and then trotted after Firx and yellow light that was guiding them.
When Synder caught up with Firx, he looked at him quite confused, “I’ve heard of that spell,” he said, “it’s theoretical. Witch doctors can’t cast spells like that.”
“Can’t or don’t?” Firx asked, a little annoyed and quite offended. He trotted faster, which was hard with trying to keep Dorothy on his back.
Synder trotted over to the rabbit, “What’s up with him?”
“Witch doctors only use magic when to heal. When they don’t, the magic takes a part of the doctor with them,” the witch said.
The rabbit and Synder looked at the witch, “I was once a witch doctor,” she answered their shocked facial expressions. They suddenly stopped, the light continued East. “What the heck, man!” the rabbit said, “why’d we stop?”
“Look below,” Firx said.
Below them was a hundred mountains that seemed to be in front of--guarding-- a different forest across from them.
Each mountain stood a good 400 feet tall, and seemed to have ice all over the tips of them.
Meanwhile, they were all standing off the hedge 40 feet across, on what seemed to be a cliff.
“It hasn’t snowed for a thousand years…” Synder said, shocked.
“This is proof you need my magic!” the witch of the North said, indicating the silver and gold bracelet she was wearing. “I can make a bridge--”
“No,” Firx said, raising an eyebrow, “I can…”
“Wait,” the rabbit said, “you can’t use magic! You’ll go down the same path as the witch did!”
“It’s either me or we go back to trusting a witch, rabbit.”
The rabbit hesitated for a moment, “Very well.”
“I will do what I must,” the rabbit said. He drew his sword, and cut off the centaurs hand and got Dorothy and dragged her into the snow 40 feet below the cliff.
“Wait! You don’t know what’s out there!” Synder called, “you could be killed!”
“No one can use magic!” the rabbit yelled back, angrily, dragging Dorothy across the snow. “Not even a centaur.”
“Is no one going to acknowledge the fact that my hand has been chopped off?”
In a flashback, there is a short man at a round, wooden dinner table with three other people.
The room was small for a room, but big for an apartment. It had white walls with stains everywhere.
The short man is holding a newspaper, drinking tea. He has a black suit and has on a top hat, a handlebar mustache and black, bushy eyebrows.
He wasn’t exactly looking outside. Because the window wasn’t showing outside. Not the outside a fantasy story might have, but the outside of New York rental apartment, 1948.
They were on the first floor of a large apartment building.
The woman sitting across from him had blonde hair and a red velvet dress making eggs by the look of it. She was rather skinny and had blue eyes with lipstick on.
There was a girl around the age of eight that had brown hair with blonde pigtails who had clearly gotten her looks from her mother’s side. The girl had an orange dress on.
She was eating her eggs that her mother had scooped for her white plate that was right in front of them. The girl looked up at her father. “Why are you looking out the window?”
“I’m expecting a letter,” the father lied, who hadn’t touched his plate of eggs and bacon and was still looking out the window. There was then a POP and two men appeared in a brown cloak. One was african american and the other was white.
They were walking down the street as though they hadn’t popped out of nowhere. The father was rather surprised by this. He had never witnessed any such thing in his life. It was like… magic.
Not only did his family not notice them, none of the people on the sidewalk, or the cars driving by saw these two men.
His family didn’t see what he saw, they were still eating their breakfast.
The man still was in shock, “Are you all right, John?” his wife asked.
“I’m--I’m fine,” he lied. He didn’t want them to think he was losing his mind. He rushed out the door, pretending to go to work when he was really going to find what those two were up to.
When he approached outside, the two figures saw John and they ran. John ran after them.
He didn’t know what made him do it, but the next thing he knew, he was running the fastest any middle aged man could. He had to drop his briefcase to keep up, the wind blew off his hat, and the puddles he had splashed in, running, made his pants soggy and soaking wet.
He cornered them in an alleyway. Rather than looking mad, the two looked quite confused. They exchanged looks, “You can see us?” the white man said.
“Yes, of course I can!” he said agitated. “How on Earth did you appear out of nowhere--”
The two of them looked quite worried. “That’s a wrong question,” the Afriucan american said, finally, “wrong questions get wrong answers.”
The African American pulled out a long, four inch stick of some sort, and pointed it at John, and as soon as he did, a clear color of white erupted out of his wand and hit John in the chest. As John went flying backwards, looking like a fool, the white man raised his left hand and a door appeared, a silver door that the two opened, that seemed to have some sort of swirling green spirals in there.
When he landed on 3 trash cans, then the two adventurers looked at him.“My name’s Jacob by the way,” The white man said. He then jumped through the portal.
“And mine’s Nathan,” the African American said, then he too jumped through the portal.
A few days later, the man had become paranoid, still looking out the window, constantly, always on alert for the next magical being or trick.
On the third day, he heard the same, faint POP and he rushed to the window to see a young woman with green skin, a black dress and a black hat--the wicked witch. But he didn’t know that. He immediately rushed outside of the apartment, thinking--hoping--to get some answers.
He had also been fired the day before, for being late. He had searched the city in hope for finding the same magic he had seen the other day. He hadn’t told anyone, of course, but he hadn’t been doing nothing; he had been searching for a trace of magic every morning.
This had been the closest thing to magic he had seen his whole search. The woman had appeqared just as those two men. A faint POP and out of nowhere, she walked with no one noticing her.
He tailed her and she noticed him and spiked as though she had suspected him all along, they had turned into the same dark alleyway as he did just the other day, and she said, impatiently, “why do you follow me?” she asked, inoccently, turning around.
He looked rather embarrassed. “I’m sorry, but I know about magic,” he said, “there’s no point denying it.”
She looked at him for a moment, and then laughed, “I wouldn’t deny it for anything in the world, my dear!”
“Why did it seem the magical community was ignoring me. I’m the only one who can see you, and I’ve been ignored for days.”
“You’re right,” she said, “I can tell you everything, but you must walk through the portal with me through my world--the magical world.”
“Why can’t you just tell me right here, right now?”
“There are certain things one can’t say in a non-magical community. To explain properly, we must go through this portal,” the woman waved her hand and a green oval portal appeared in the center of the alleyway.
The woman smiled, crookedly. “After you,” she said, gesturing towards the portal and the man jumped through it and disappeared. She did the same and they went through the portal and into the moonlight of Oz.
In Oz, this was before the wicked witch’s rule, of course, there were beautiful hills with a gorgeous sunset, animals pranced around and they even saw a leprechaun getting following a trail of gold coins over by the river beside the mountain they were standing on.
“What do you call such a wondrous place,” the man asked, looking around in awe.
“Oz,” she said. “This is one of many realms, however.”
“How does one go to other realms,” he asked.
“They don’t,” she replied, “The giants above the cloud protect them.”
“What’s so bad about giants?”
“Wait until we’re where we’re supposed to be.”
They walked down a green hill through magnificent grass fields, Jonathan stared in awe at the little farmers as they walked down a yellow brick road. They were about to go into the forest, it seemed like, but there was no yellow brick road there.
Soon enough, the wicked witch turned off the yellow brick road and towards the thick woods. “I thought we were supposed to follow the yellow brick road?” he said.
“No,” she said.
He then looked both freightened and confused, “where exactly are we supposed to be?”
“The cave of thoughts,” she said, “that way we won’t be overheard.”
“Why don’t we want to--”
“I’m not supposed to communicate with your kind,” she said, “much less bringing them to our realm.”
They walked through the thick forest. What seemed like days but were really an hour before they found the cave of thoughts.
“In,” she said.
He obeyed and went through the archway and went into the same cave Sylvia had gone through all those years ago.
It hadn’t changed one bit. There were rocks on all sides and corners, but in the circular center was still the water.
The only difference was there was no skeleton, but there was a bowl where the skeleton had once stood. A small, circular bowl about 10 inches wide and 2 inches tall. “What is the bowl doing there?” the man said, finally. He had just finished observing the cave.
The wicked witch drew her wand and pointed it to his hand. “What did you say your name was again?” he asked.
“The wicked witch,” she thought back.
It all made sense now. She brought him there so no one can hear his screams. “Let me out! Help! She’s crazy!”
“No one can help you,” she said, “I have control over my thoughts. I have magic,” she said, she took her wand, and pointed it at his hand and blood trickled out of his hand and she pointed it to the bowl.
“Hey! A little bit of blood only really hurt… everyone!” She gave a cackle laugh in her mind so no one outside could hear her.
Black smoke swirled in spirals around the bowl and a skeleton appeared in that same spot, the one with the black cloak and the spear.
The skeleton appeared where the bowl had been, he must have been the bowl!
“Funny you should mention that witch,” the skeleton thought, drawing two swords, “Because I plan on hurting you… a LOT!”
The skeleton walked closer as she laughed inside her head… well and inside Jonathan’s head.
His left hand’s sword turned into a wizard’s staff it would seem, considering how Jonathan spent five years playing Dungeons AND’ Dragons, he knew well what a wizard’s staff looked like. He pointed the staff at the wicked witch and shot out blue light and the wicked witch put up a force field with her wand.
“How DARE you attack me…” she said, raising her wand for the skeleton’s face with an angry face on her face, “filthy half-form!” in a SPEW the skeleton was thrown backwards after a jet of red light and he hit the rocky back of the cave, which caused dust and rocks to shatter above the ceiling, as though the cave was to collapse.
The Skeleton got back up to fight. He slammed his staff against the ground and she fell on the ground and then laughed, “is that the best you can do?”
Then, the water turned deep red and rose from the ground and surrounded Sylvia in a swirl of red and green, (this was before she had turned green), “No!” she shrieked. And soon she was silenced as the water closed in and she was in a cocoon of some sort.
“I think it’s time for you to go, Jonathan,” the skeleton said, calmly.
“Can you get me home?” he asked, sounding excited but watching horrified as Sylvia was struggling in her red water cocoon prison.
“It will involve the most powerful but painful magic…” he said, “blood magic.”
“What?” he said, frightened.
“No need to be alarmed, but I will need to see your hand.”
“Very well,” Jonathan said, he stretched his arm out and the skeleton pointed a bone-finger and scratched the surface of Jonathan’s hand and the blood from the scratch rose up and hit the water. At first nothing happened, then the water turned red and blue, but nothing else happened.
“Is this supposed to happen?”
“No,” the skeleton said, sounding shocked, “I don’t know what happened!”
“You fools!” a shrieking version of Sylvia’s thought said, “I cut off magical transportation, and those who even try to escape, well… THAT happens.”
At first, Jonathan didn’t know what she was talking about, then he looked down at his feet, they had gotten bigger than his head, they were now shaped like a rabbit! He shrunk, he saw as the cave around him got bigger and bigger, he was growing smaller and smaller.
Finally, it seemed the transformation had stopped. He looked into the water, he was now a four foot tall rabbit with brown fur with white spots all over. Sylvia cackled in her mind.
“You monster!’ the skeleton said, drawing his sword. He walked over and was right next to the cocoon and was about to stab her stomach, but then, the water burst open, and splashed everywhere. The witch had easily escaped.
“A monster am I?” she said. “How would you like to see what a monster really is?” Sylvia began to transform, as well. Her feet started to grow bigger and grew white claws and her body had suddenly become 10 feet tall and her head had grown into the shape of a bird of some kind, and her legs grew into 20 feet tall hind legs, and her arms had become shaped like 10 feet tall bat wings.
“It doesn’t matter what you look like,” the skeleton snarled, “Witch, dragon... you’ll always be a monster!”
This, however, was the wrong thing to say. She opened her wide mouth and breathed fire on top of the skeleton and the skeleton held up his staff and a blue force shaped like a cylinder protected him like a magical shield.
“Let’s see how powerful you are,” she hissed. She turned her head towards Jonathan breathed horrible fire upon him and the blast of fire was midway when the skeleton’s second sword on his right became a second staff. He pointed it at Jonathan and a second force field appeared over his head.
The force fields lasted for seconds. Soon enough, the witch’s fire had melted the force fields. So, the skeleton then raised his staff higher and soon, the force field went higher and higher. The skeleton’s staff was pointed horizontally, but then he got the strength he needed and he pointed both staffs vertically. The force fields had hit the wicked witch’s dragon form, the dragon tumbled back and hit the left wall, and the cave was falling apart.
The skeleton raised his left, bone-forearm and brown smoke swirled around the two of them and they finally escaped and disappeared.
They had reappeared in the middle of the forest of He. Long way from the cave and long way from civilization.
“We should be fighting,” Jonathan the rabbit said.
“We should be preparing an army,” the skeleton said.
“You have one?”
“An army of wizards--not what you might think,” he added quickly.
“Guin Salusha Fanus Ziluushia!” the skeleton exclaimed over the grassy fields of farmers and many, many trees.
“What language was that?” Jonathan the rabbit asked.
Suddenly, a hole opened in the ground and the stairs led down. Then, a cloud of smoke as big as a city appeared and about 1000 skeletons wearing robes appeared holding swords and wizard staff just as the skeleton standing next to Jonathan held.
“The dead kind,” the skeleton said, “these are my people, the wizard knights of Camelot from the fourth dimension.”
The dragon swept over them and they fought. Some slashed at her scales and others died by fire and turned to ash. Her claws sliced off arms and then chewed them and spit the bones out.
“She’s destroying my kind!” a skeleton in brown robes exclaimed, charging towards the witch.
“No!” the skeleton said, “Fruidish, stop! That’s the knights’ job, I have a plan for us wizards!”
Ten wizard skeletons gathered and the skeleton discussed the plan, “We can combine our fire power, but aiming for the mouth, there’s no armor--”
“Dragon at 12 O’clock!” a wizard said.
A wizard looked grimly and with his arms spread out and spoke an ancient Greek spell, and then about 50 more knights appeared out of the ground and they took care of the dragon. Stabbing at scales to them, was like picking a mere scab for her point of view.
“Peter, what’s the plan!” a wizard said. Jonathan the rabbit looked around who he was talking about but he doubted his wizard friend’s first name was “the skeleton” so his obvious name was Peter.
Eventually, the knights died out and all that was left was the rabbit. “There’s no one else in the Overworld who wants to help!” a wizard said.
“I’ll fight,” Jonathan the rabbit said.
Everyone looked at him. “No, no,” Peter the skeleton said, shaking his head.
Everyone looks at the rabbit, they listen to Peter’s tactics and yet somehow, not when he denies someone risking their life.
Jonathan ignored their shock and looked Peter in the eyes, “Peter, why don’t you want me to fight?” Jonathan asked, “I could be your last hope... I AM your last hope.”
“JUST TELL ME!” Jonathan exclaimed.
This got the skeletons’ attention. They looked at Peter for his answer, “Because it’s all my fault!” Peter said, not yelling, but still quite annoyed and saddened as he was before. “It’s my fault you can’t get home! And I can’t bare to see another one lost to the witch!”
Silence. Then the silence broke with Jonathan’s confused look, which was hard to identify, being a rabbit. “What do you mean it’s your fault I can’t get home?”
“I created the witch the wicked witch is,” Peter said, “I showed her a prophecy 5 years ago and she was, at first, in doubt, but a dark wizard and I were the reason she was convinced. We told the witch of the East to see the prophecy to make the wicked witch who she is.”
All the wizards stood in shock. Then, the wizard on the left’s face darkened, and he raised a bony forearm and disappeared in a spiraling black wind and he disappeared. This influenced the others as well. One by one, they disappeared.
Until the last one stood, with a very darkened expression upon his face. Peter looked at him, hopefully. “Fruidish, come on, we’re friends...”
“No,” he said, “may you die at the hands of the witch.”
He raised his bone forearm and disappeared in black smoke as the others did.
“I’ll help you,” the rabbit said, with some hesitation.
Peter looked at him, “Why?” he said, “I brought you pain and misery.”
“What is not getting home and getting turned into a rabbit?” Jonathan the rabbit said, “those were some setbacks. Those were the witch’s fault and I have no intention of getting back home. I’m staying in Oz.”
Peter pondered this and then nodded, grimly. He spread out his arms and a sword over a fallen warrior hatred over the ground, then it started spinning. Faster and faster it went and then it zoomed towards the wicked witch and it hit her in the neck, dragon blood gashed out and she transformed back into her human form.
“No!” she wailed, “Now I’ll never be able to transform!” She narrowed her eyes at the rabbit and Peter, “mark my words you will pay for this.”
She raised her left hand and disappeared.
A year after the incident with the witch, Peter had come to Jonathan’s rabbit hole for Christmas in Oz.
When he arrived in the thick forest hideout from the witch, he jumped through the rabbit hole John made and went into a series of tunnels. There were signs all over the tunnels that read animals’ neighborhoods. Some had said, “badgers’ neighborhood” others said “dog gambling night” and then after looking over through the tunnels of neighborhoods, at the very end was the rabbit’s home. He didn’t live in a neighborhood, though. There was just an archway Peter went through to reach the rabbit’s small tunnel .
There was a small bed, and the ceiling was only 4 feet high (because Jonathan was now 3 feet high) and there were colorful rock walls that were tan, purple, green and yellow and were triangle shaped rocks leaning against (and holding together) the dirt that was tan. There was an orange desk with a purple flower vase with a rocking chair, yarn clumped together next to the rocking chair. The house was in a circular shape.
“Come in!” Jonathan said eagerly, he got up from the chair he was watching the fireplace flames. His chair was indeed a comfortable chair. It had a cushioned armrest, the rabbit was sitting on a pillow leaning against a pillow.
When John ran over to Peter to hug his bony legs, Peter looked down at him and saw him clearly for the very first time. John was wearing a buttoned shirt, and had grey hair on top of his brown-grayish fur. It looked as though he was an old man.
As he got out of his chair, he nearly collapsed on the floor. Luckily, Peter caught him and lifted him by the shoulders and set him on top of the mat in front of the fireplace.
“Are you okay?” Peter asked, quite worried as John held his hand over his slowly beating heart.
John smiled, gently. “I’m getting old, Peter,” he said, in a raspy voice. “I’ve been without visitors without anyone to talk to. I’ve had you, though,” he said, with a smile, “you wrote to me, you sent me gifts for my birthday. I’m sorry I couldn’t write back,” he showed Peter his fingers that were shaking nonstop, “when your life is hanging by a thread, you forget things,” he sighed, “like how to write.”
“It’s only been a year!” John exclaimed, worried.
“Rabbits live a year. Two years if I’m lucky. Two in a half if I’m really lucky.”
Peter the skeleton took a drop of a yellow potion, and began to transform. He then grew black hair, he grew black skin, he had brown eyes, (before they were white pupils), clothes formed around him as his skin was still going, he wore a deep blue jacket and Navy blue jeans.
Jonathan the rabbit stared in awe. “How did you do that?” Jonathan asked, puzzled and impressed.
“I made this potion. Drink it, and you’ll transform into--”
“A man again?”
“No, better health. This is what I looked like before I died,” he slapped the bottle in Jonathan’s hand. Jonathan isn’t sure about it at first, then, “You trust me. If you do, then take the potion.”
Jonathan, without hesitation, drank the potion and didn’t do anything at first. Then the rabbit bounced backwards and hit the wooden bookshelf he had made himself. He nearly broke his back, but the back was nothing compared to his heart. He gasped and choked and was on the floor gripping his heart, it was turning green.
It was poisoned. He gasped, “what have you done!”
Peter looked at him and then laughed, madly. “I’ve heard so many people say that!” he said. Then he looked at the tear that tricked the old poor rabbit’s eye, and then the smile waved off his face, and a crooked grin replaced it, “don’t look at me! I was carrying out the Queen’s orders!”
“Oh yes, the wicked witch,” he added, “it’s my job to make people trust me and then I give them a potion that makes their heart poison when in 5 foot distance of my kind,” he said.
“I would never go near you or your kind!” the rabbit said. He had a dark side not even he knew he had, “I despise you! I despise humans! And I despise Magic!” In Jonathan’s comical attempt to get up, he nearly twitched his back in the attempt to get up.
“I doubt you’d be thinking that when the Queen takes over,” Peter said, frowning but quite amused. “I use magic, and so does the Queen. And the witch (as you know her as) will become the most powerful Queen that Oz has ever known!” he looked at him trying to reach the sword on the ground. He kicked the sword across the room, “I don’t hate to say that every species she has on her side. They are befriending beings of Oz and, like me, they hand them gifts, letters,” he glanced at a bean bag chair, “ junk. Only for them to get their heart poisoned so that they can’t escape to another realm!” he called, madly.
“No,” Jonathan grunted, “I despise magic. I despise humans. I despise you.” John repeated over and over again. But only to distract him. He stabbed a knife in his foot while he was watching Jonathan amused.
Now John is screaming in pain, massaging his foot where the stab was, most dramatically, it would seem.
Meanwhile several animals from the neighborhoods drag the rabbit through the archway, and then as soon as the heart stopped glowing green, the rabbit got up and snarled in disgust of the animals helping him.
“Trusting a human,” he muttered, glaring at everyone, “trusting all of you!” he exclaimed angrily, “is something I will never do again,” he said, sadly. He walked down the second tunnel of badgers neighborhood. Where he had cousins staying there, but had no feelings or emotions towards them.
He never trusted anyone again.
Not Dorothy, not the centaurs and he certainly did not trust the witch of the North.
The rabbit was in the snow trying to outrun the magical creatures.
Can’t be going to them for help, he thought, I despise magic! He dragged Dorothy the whole way. It seemed she hadn’t affected him, maybe the curse is wearing off, he thought, or maybe the dead humans have no effect.
But she’s not dead! A voice said inside his head.
Her life is hanging by a thread! He thought, angrily to himself. He wanted to stop talking to himself, but it kept him from freezing to death.
And from going insane.
Soon enough, he was losing his mind. But the only thing he could think about was draggin Dorothy and killing her with a wave of a knife and a slit of her throat, the wicked witch will die and Oz will be safe once more!
He continued dragging her up and down the snowy mountains’ archways across the so-called ground.
He could see the sunny light after quite some time. Then, after many, many hours he had finally gotten past the snowy mountains and into the light, there were green hilltops and what he saw he could not believe.
He saw what he had feared would be the last of his kind to be tortured by Them. By Witches.
In a small village behind a mountain, the rabbit saw many, many talking animals such as himself being tortured by magical beings. Witches.
Some had their wand out and was holding a talking animal by the ankle, others were shooting green lightning and looked as though they were electrically uting them, yet they were still alive--in pain, screaming--but still alive.
There were about a hundred cloaked figures with wands out blasting all sorts of color out of their wands.
He walked closer to get a closer look, he could barely see at the time. He climbed the mountain they were getting tortured on and he was then hanging off the cliff holding himself up by his big rabbit fingers.
He could see someone in a black cloak tap another on the shoulder, and they walked towards the rabbit’s hiding spot... if you can call hanging off a cliff a hiding spot.
“The magical creatures are starting to suspect,” a man’s voice from under a hood said. That can’t be right, the rabbit thought, only witches have magic. “And, as if that isn’t enough,” he continued, “the wicked witch is dead!”
The rabbit smirked at this. He was on his way to destroy the wicked witch.
“No, she isn’t” the second hooded figure said, and (to the rabbit’s horror) another wizard’s, “I have a spy over there, the adventurers don[’t even suspect the wicked witch of the North.”
“Didn’t she fail acting classes as a kid though?”
“Shut up!” the second wizard said. “They’re on the way to kill the chosen one, Dorothy as we speak. The only one who can defeat the witch when restored to full power.”
“Well, you heard wrong, didn’t you!” the second wizard siad. The left’s wizard started going slightly red. “They have to go onto the Stone mountain, but we are on the stone mountain,” the second wizard spread his cloaked arms out to indicate the mountain he was standing on, “THIS IS THE STONE MOUNTAIN!”
The rabbit’s heart sunk as they both laughed, madly. He had been going to the wrong mountain and Dorothy was never the wicked witch! But if she isn’t, then who was? But then he thought about the witch of the North. The one who encouraged them to kill Dorothy, the only one who can defeat the wicked witch. The very soul who got past the Sphinx so easily!
Then, the rabbit thought about Dorothy. She had jumped back and her body turned dark green with possession right when the witch of the North had come through the portal! Then, that couldn’t have been possession if she wasn’t the wicked witch, he thought. He glanced at the body a second time, it had turned black with a shade of green.
If the witch was possessing her, she wouldn’t be turning black... he pondered this for a moment. So many unanswered questions, but each one least likely as the next, was someone else possessing her? Was she somehow possessed herself?
But then he took his mind off possession for a little bit. He thought about something else. Something he had experienced so long ago. Poison. That could be the only answer. The witch of the North must’ve been possessed immediately by the wicked witch, right before the wicked witch could die and then, being in the body of the witch of the North, poisoned Dorothy with her new body’s powers.
If this is the stone mountain... and he has Dorothy, then the entire team of adventurers were going all wrong about this! They were probably heading towards the rabbit to the stone mountain and if they’re not captured and tortured by the wizards and witches, then they would kill Dorothy on the stone mountain and there would be no way of defeating the wicked witch!
I’ve got to get this girl as far away from the stone mountain as I can! He thought. He started hiking down, but he heard the screaming tortured sound of his fellow animals, and he even recognized one of those screams! It was mister Goat, his neighbor!
He heard a few other neighbors scream, then he heard, “this one’s dead,” a wizard said. ’Throw it over the mountain,” gruff voice said. They threw a body over the cliff and landed into the rabbit’s open arms.
It was a bloodied up… badger! He was his cousin! His biggest fan! If only he’d hadn’t swore an oath never to trust anyone this may have never even have happened!
In a flashback of the rabbit’s past, he was in a badger’s home. The badger cousin family he was staying with were happy as can be. They were always tossing grapes into their mouths and pouring syrup on their pancakes and wearing a napkin tucked in their shirt while eating pancakes with their hands by breaking it into pieces.
They were all rather energetic. The kids were jumping up and down, and Jonathan’s 35 year old “friend” slid across the floor, Michael Jackson style and clapped his hand over old rabbit Jonathan’s shoulder.
“Hey mate,” he spoke with an english accent as always. He had black spots all over him and clean, white teeth. Jonathan had slightly yellow teeth with his napkin in his lap and a fork and knife in his hands, cutting the pancake, carefully. “How ya doin’?” he asked.
“Same as always,” Jonathan said, miserably, “old and miserable.”
“Cheer up mate,” the badger cousin said, cheerfully, “so your old family’s gone! And you can’t go anywhere near another human ever again, but you got us!”
Jonathan looked around the room to see what happened every morning; people playing table hockey, the pinball machine playing, they had invited Dogman and his sons to gamble, and the children were running and bouncing up and down as always. “Lucky me,” Jonathan grumbled, sounding more miserable than before.
“Hey, Snickers, you gamlin’ or what?”
“Oop! Gotta go!” Then the badger named Snickers ran over there to the dogs leaving Jonathan, who didn’t mind him leaving. He preferred it if anything.
Jonathan had had enough. He grabbed his coat that was hanging up in the closet and then his brown fedora and walked through the large archway and into the crowded hallway.
Crowded because the animals were all talking, some were even singing, there was music playing, a group of fairies approached behind him. Before he gave up trust, he was quite fond of the fairies. They still miss him, no doubt.
As he walked down the hallway of neighborhoods, the animals stopped talking, and the rabbit was out for an outside stroll. Everyone was whispering and no doubt talking about him.
He didn’t care, he simply shot a look of resent on anyone who stares so they all look away. The trolls pretend to read books so often now they actually learned to read!
“Did you hear about Gandalf the Grey?” a troll would say, loudly to a buddy.
“No, I haven’t gotten to that part,” the second troll would say.
The only person who had been feared this much was zooming around on a broomstick in western Oz.
When Jonathan crawled out of the rabbit hole, he walked the usual trial he walked on and didn’t bother looking at the scenery. He walked with a cane, even though he didn’t need it, but it reminded him that all life falls apart eventually.
Especially his life.
Soon enough, night came and he sighed at the gorgeous stars shining above him he only wished he could enjoy. He used to enjoy such things. Before he grew up into the man he is now.
As though out of nowhere, a spear blade went right in front of his throat, and then to ensure he didn’t move, a dozen more swords pointed around at his throat.
It was the wicked witch’s guards. He could just tell without looking at their black triangle hats and black beards.
In a flashback, in the wicked witch’s castle, the old rabbit had his limbs spread out far apart making an X on a board. Then the wicked witch came into the room, where a dozen guards already stood with pointed spears at the Rabbit.
“Leave us,” she said.
“I need to have a word with, what was it you’re called nowadays… the rabbit?”
The soldiers looked quite frightened at these words, so they marched through the doorway without another word.
“What do you want?” the rabbit said.
“Oh, I think you know what I want, and you’ve known for quite some time. Give me the location of the animal neighborhood!”
The rabbit hesitated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” she said, almost dangerously. “You’re miserable there, you know it, I know it. Let’s see if you can help both our lives.”
He was miserable, there. But he wasn’t going to sell out a hundred animals’ homes. He thought of what the witch might do to him, if he hadn’t done what he asked... or what Peter might do…
He told her everything. Soon enough, her armies marched over and they captured the animals and destroyed their homes.
On the stone mountain, the rabbit held the dying friend in his arms. His friend pointed to his chest, where his heart is pumping more than ever before, “this is what matters,” his cousin croaked. The cousin hung his head back and died.
“No!” he screamed at the sky as though he was expecting an angle to save him. He thought of the wizards. He thought of destroying them. But then he thought about Dorothy. She was his responsibility. And now all of Oz is at risk.
If he was to go into enemy territory to get his revenge, She would be killed and no one could ever save Oz from the wicked witch. Think, he told himself, think. He couldn’t think of any solution! This would usually be a hero’s job, but he was no hero. He was the worst of his kind.
“You’re not alone,” a woman’s voice said.
The rabbit nearly jumped and swung around to see her, the witch of the North. But she couldn’t be… here. She didn’t look like the white witch he adventured with; sure she had a white dress, brown hair, but instead of a wrinkled scrunched up, angry face, she had a kind smile with eyes that he didn’t even notice on the other version of her.
“The witch of the North?” the rabbit said, puzzled, “but you couldn’t be here, you were possessed by the wicked witch!”
He realized he had blurted that out, but she simply smiled. “My body was possessed, yes,” she winked, “but my spirit remains intact with this world. The wicked witch is dead, but she achieved a power no other witch has ever achieved. She had detached her very soul from her body, and possessed mine right before death. Something no decent witch could do.”
They heard screaming from above. The witch of the North looked up above the mountain towards the talking animals screaming. She looked back at the rabbit, “why don’t you go help them?” she asked, herself puzzled.
The rabbit sighed. I’m not powerful like you,” he said, “I betrayed my own kind! I betrayed magic itself.”
The witch of the North nodded as though she suspected such an answer. “People look at their path and then they predict the future based on their past and they give up. But that’s the funny thing about mortals. They make their own future. Not the ones who make magic. Not the wizards or witches of the 9 realms. Not even the Gods, themselves.”
’But that prophecy--”
“Prophecies don’t come true. There are still prophecies that haven’t come true. Some are thousands of years old because we make our own destiny.” She looked down into his eyes. “Don’t be the rabbit you want to be. Be your own rabbit,” she said, wisely.
The rabbit hesitated. He was in a bit of a shock at her words. He straightened up, brushed off the dust and snow on his fur and hiked up the mountain. He was halfway there, when she said, “oh and Jonathan,” she called, this certainly got his attention. He hadn’t been called Jonathan in over 15 years! But she said, kindly, “Bring me my body back, will you?”
The rabbit smiled and hiked back up, but he wasn’t sure she was joking. He looked back down and she was gone. Okay, looks like I’m on my own, he thought, pulling Dorothy, hoping--praying--her arm doesn’t break as he’s pulling on her. He decided to pull her over his back, instead.
She didn’t break one bit the whole time he was climbing.
Neither did he.
He finally got to the top and he drew his sword for all to see. His grip on the sword tightened. “Let’s rock this party,” he muttered. The animals looked up hopefully. He would never kill… not in front of his fellow neighbors, but he did slash their legs and cut their arms so they could not stand nor run to him.
He finally got to the other end where the animals were being kept. He jumped the man guarding them, he had a black, pointy beard with grey armor and a tin helmet. He looked quite frightened.
“How did you know about the wicked witch?” he said, menacingly.
“We didn’t!” he whined, narrowing his eyes at the tip of his sword, “it was the old centaur…” he said the last part slowly and not as scared but rather puzzled.
The rabbit himself was puzzled. “Old centaur?” he said, “What are you--” his eyes widened. He collapsed as though he was seeing the future… which it seemed he was.
He saw a centaur, Firx, standing behind the rabbit who had his sword drawn and was standing over the other Centaur, Synder, a tear from his eye, and Synder looked frightened. Then, the rabbit was stabbed in the back by Firx with a small, but effective sword.
The rabbit woke up, it looked like he was only out for a couple seconds because the damage he’d done was still there. People were lying on the ground reaching for their swords.
Then a voice came behind him, “you, rabbit!” The Rabbit’s reflexes took over him and he turned around, jumping and kicked the man in the nuts. Then he got a closer look at the man.
This was not a member of those magical wizards, indeed, even if he did experience the same weakness: literally every move of combat. The man was made of Tin and had a tin hat with the wizard guards’ armor.
The rabbit clapped his hands over his mouth, “I am so sorry,” he said, a little amused, trying to drown a laugh.
“Listen,” the tin man said, ’I’m Nick Chopper, I was a… friend of Dorothy’s.”
“You hesitated before ‘friend’. Why?”
“No time, but we’ve gotta get into one of these huts,” and so the tin man scooped up Dorothy in his arms and made it for… the snow?
“I don’t see a hut,” the rabbit said, far from approving.
“Oh come on! They’re invisible! You just got to know where to look.”
And the tin man went for the snow, and opened a door that was invisible, because When the tin man opened the door, he could see a fireplace on top of the wood floor.
He walked where the tin man walked, through the open door and into a small room inside, just like the tin man said, a hut.
There was a red carpet in front of a fireplace that had fire in it and the tin man sat by the bookshelves next to the fireplace on a rocking chair. Across from the rocking chair was a red chair.
He gestured to the rabbit to sit in the red chair. The rabbit hesitated then sat down. “Let’s make this quick, before the witch of the North and a traitor centaur come.”
“What do you mean traitor centaur?” the tin man asked.
The rabbit rolled his eyes, “what did you want to tell me?”
He lowered his voice to a whisper, “when the wicked witch was defeated, she left a legacy behind…”
’I don’t see how that’s possible,” the rabbit said, “magic was destroyed across the realm.
“The flying monkeys…” he said, “...aren’t just flying monkeys. They’re part of--” then his legs started to twitch, his eyes turned yellow, he collapsed on the ground on all fours. He crawled all around the floor and on the ceiling. His head creaked towards the rabbit as though he had just noticed he was there.
Then, the tin man got control of himself and got up on top of the chair, his hands in his face. ’The transformation has begun!” he exclaimed.
“Flying monkey?” the rabbit asked, quite scared, with his hand gripped on his sword.
He heard him howling. His Spine had seemed to curve, claws sprouted from his metal shoes. He looked at the rabbit, “No…”
The rabbit stepped backward, slowly, as he howled again at the moon that came from the window, then he looked at the rabbit again, with a scrunched up, scared face at… himself, he grunted, “a werewolf…”
He wasn’t lying either, claws grew from his fingers at 2 feet long and a snout that grew longer and longer until he looked remarkable like a wolf made of tin.
The rabbit’s eyes widened as werewolf Chopper circled nearer and nearer. He saw Dorothy’s body was behind the werewolf Chopper. But the door was right behind him. He either escaped with his life, or he risks his own life and saves another as well.
His eyes darted back and forth between the magical cursed body (which he still hated magic) and the open door that seemed to be calling him.
But he fought such temptation of evil. He slid under the werewolve’s legs and grabbed Dorothy from behind the magical beast.
He ran around and he was through the doorway and into the moonlight. There was Snarling behind him, he walked forward, Doirothy carried on his back, then footsteps came from the direction he was walking in. He drew his sword, ready for anything.
But he wasn’t quite particularly ready for what he saw next.
There were vampires, werewolves, even some creatures the rabbit didn’t really recognize: there were some shirtless men in black tarp, they looked normal, but they kept teleporting, place to place in black smoke and their face was hard to tell because it kept shifting into different faces so fast it looked like an old video game from Earth.
There were some people with pointed hats and pointy teeth with claws and scratched up, bloody robes they probably took off a victim. Their teeth had blood they had sunk into.
The vampire’s teeth were also bloody, but only two were pointy. They wore long black robes and had sharp claws.
The monsters drew closer and closer, and then they swiped Dorothy from his back.
“No!” the rabbit yelled, as a vampire and a werewolf held him back, “you can’t hurt her, she’s innocent!”
He tried to get to her, but his struggle was merely breaking his arms bit by bit. But he stopped when he saw that they backed away from her and magic glitter of some kind came out of Dorothy’s mouth. For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Finally, after all these days of carrying her and dragging her, she awoke with a start.
“Wha- what happened?” she muttered, sleepily, blinking her eyes.
The rabbit didn’t have time for explanations… mostly because he wasn’t sure what was happening either.
“You saved her?” the rabbit asked.
“She was poisoned,” a werewolf said, “we couldn’t let the horrible witch of the West take over. Only Dorothy can stop her.”
“But you’re magical beings! I despise magic! I spent years studying how to destroy magic! And yet, magic was the one that saved Dorothy’s life?” the rabbit said, still confused.
“That sums it up,” the vampire said. A few of the creatures chuckled. “Anyways, we can’t let a witch die! She’s the only one who can defeat the wicked witch!”
“That’s wicked witch, dear,” a voice said behind them. Everyone turned around to see the witch of the North with the centaurs knocked unconscious and floating 2 feet above the ground. The witch continued, “the wicked witch of the West!” with a flick of the wrist, the vampire who said that had his neck break. “And don’t you forget it,” she snarled.
The rabbit drew his sword. “Creatures of the dark, run!” he exclaimed. The creatures obeyed.
“There’s nowhere to hide, witch!” the rabbit exclaimed, Dorothy feet away, feeling scared but still wanting to fight to help. “You can’t turn into a dragon anymore, remember?” the rabbit said.
The wicked witch’s Witch of the North’s body smiled. “You’re right, but that was only for my old body. I have a new, more powerful body that can do any magic!”
The wicked witch spread her arms beside her. Her arms turned into white wings, the claws turned into claws 4 feet long and her body then turned into a 10 feet tall dragon body and her head sprouted into a dragon snakelike head with green eyes.
Unlike her last transformation, she was white and bigger. This dragon was over 40 feet tall!
“We fought you before,” the rabbit said, tightening his grip on his sword, “we can fight you again.”
“You could barely defeat me with an army on your side,” the witch-dragon said in an echoey voice, “besides I have other plans than defeating you.”
“What plans?” the rabbit asked.
“Do you really think I would tell you?” she asked, quite amused. She flew up, straight up, and soon enough she was above the clouds.
“How do we know where she’s going?” Dorothy asked, still looking at the clouds.
“She’s going to the giant’s realm,” a faint, mystic voice said. The rabbit and Dorothy turned around. It was the witch of the North once again standing before them.
Before the rabbit could feel surprised, he said, “why, though?”
“To travel to the 9 realms, spread chaos, not just in Oz, but in other realms as well.”
“That’s impossible,” the rabbit said. “The Giants are very protective of the realms. They’ve been protecting them for a thousand years!”
“The giants are also easily persuaded,” the witch of the North said, “they have no magic of their own. There is no doubt she will give them magic in exchange for the 9 realms in her very pocket.”
The rabbit looked up at the sky. There’s no telling what she might do.
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