STORYTIME! ^_^
Alrighty folks, been working on a little something-something here, hope you like it, here's the first chapter. Not sure what I'll call it yet.
With a mighty crash, the trailer landed. For a few moments, all else was quiet, until a small Jack Russel terrier burst out through the screen door, yapping madly. Slowly, a young boy came after it.
“Toby, heel! Come here, boy! Come back!”
Stepping out onto the strange ground, the boy got his first groggy look at the wondrous country around him.
“Wow…”
Having lived his entire life on the vast grey plains of Kansas, the boy was entirely unprepared for what he saw. Rolling green hills built up to tremendous slate mountains larger than he could ever have imagined possible, beneath an iron-coloured sky that almost seemed to reach higher than it ever had back home. The flowers he saw were unlike any that he had ever even read about in books, and the branches of the trees looped and swirled, ending in sprouts of oddly geometric leaves.
The boy was shaken out of his daze at such sights by the sound of his dog growling at something it had found in the squat purple shrubs.
“What’d you find, Toby?” As he approached, the dog darted his head into the shrubs and came back out dragging a most curious little creature by the tail.
The boy wasn’t certain if this little thing was adorable or repulsive. It stood maybe a foot tall, with six fat little legs growing out from a round, green body that looked to the boy like nothing so much as an overlarge, furry watermelon. The thing’s face was oddly mouselike, and as what seemed to the boy a final absurdity there were small flowers, identical to those he had already seen growing across the countryside, sprouting from the nape of it’s neck all the way down to it’s rump.
“Well aren’t you a funny thing?” asked the boy, squatting down to get a better look. “What are you called?”
Rather than answer, the thing gave a series of short, sharp yelps and scuttled off into the bushes once again.
Suddenly there came a shouting from behind the boy. “Aye, now! See what’s happened? She’s dead, she is!”
The boy started. She’s dead? Who? His mind flashed back to a dozen occasions when he’d feared the worst for his aunt. As he stood in thought, more voices joined a first.
“She’s dead!”
“Dead!”
“Crushed like a pondskip!”
The babble of voices, grown now to what sounded like an entire village, was coming from the other side of the trailer. The boy called his dog to heel, and the animal reluctantly released his captive. Together, they walked around the trailer to find that there was indeed a village there, dotted with squat blue buildings. Emerging from these buildings was a crowd of similarly blue people, all streaming towards the trailer.
“She’s dead, she’s dead!”
“Ding-dongaloo, she’s DEAD!”
As the gathering around the trailer grew larger and the shouts grew louder, the boy stepped out from behind the trailer and sidled cautiously up to one of the blue-skinned men nearest him.
“Excuse me, but who’s dead?”
The blue man, never turning to look at the boy, enthusiastically replied “The Witch! The Witch! The Wicked Witch of the East is dead!”
The boy relaxed at once, knowing nobody would ever refer to Aunt Emily as a witch. Even when Uncle Hank had been drinking, he never… the boy pushed this train of thought out of his head. “I’m sorry sir, but who is Wicked Witch of the East?”
“Are ye simple, lil’ one, how could ye not know…” The man trailed off as he finally turned to look at the boy. “But he’s a PINK one, he is!”
The assembled crowd gasped at the blue man’s cry, and instantly back from the boy.
“A pink one!”
“Cast him out!”
“Pink! Pink!”
The boy was mystified. Glancing around he could see, now that the crowd had pulled away, a pair of grotesque limbs sticking out from beneath the edge of the trailer. The nearby grass was stained with a viscous black ichor, and the limbs themselves were misshapen, covered in enormous warts and a coat of thick, coarse brown hair. Stepping back from the horrid sight on reflex, the boy backed directly into the blue man who had been speaking to him. With a cry of revulsion, the man pushed him away.
“Git away from me, ye foul pink creature! Ye must begone!”
Thoroughly frightened now, the boy barely managed to stammer “B-but I’m just a boy, sir. My name is Derek and I’m only twelve years old and I don’t know where my Aunt is and please, won’t you tell me what is going on?” He could feel tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.
“TRICKERY!” cried the blue man. “The Witch of the West thinks she can fool us so easily, by sending this boychild into our lands? Does she think we be so easily fooled, simply by her destroying her foul sister? Their feud is well-known, neighbours!” By now, the blue man was addressing the assembled crowd, having turned his back to young Derek. “The Witch of the West is herself a pink one, don’t ye forget! What say ye, neighbours? Let us cast out this spy, so that we may properly celebrate our new freedom!”
At this, the village gave a hearty roar of assent. Nobody knows for sure who threw the first handful of pebbles, although many would later lay claim to it in the village of the blue people, but young Derek found himself and his dog the victims of a hail of the small stones as the townsfolk drove them away to the limits of their lands before finally halting.
“Now, young Derek, as ye call yerself,” said the blue man who had first noticed him, “ye’re at the edge of the Wide Spaces. Pray to the Wizard that ye never find yerself in our village again.”
Crying openly, Derek faced the mass of blue faces, many of whom had already turned away to go back to the village. “Please, I have done nothing to you! I am just a lost little boy, without a friend in your strange world except my dog Toby. All I want is to go home!”
One of the stragglers, a youth who I daresay was not much older than Derek himself, turned at the sound of the other boy’s cries. Glancing around to be sure no-one was watching, he hissed “Go to Oz! To Oz! Follow the yellow road yonder!” before running off and vanishing into the crowd.
Not knowing what else to do, Derek followed the other boy’s advice and followed the road of yellow cobblestones into the west, his dog Toby close at his heels.
With a mighty crash, the trailer landed. For a few moments, all else was quiet, until a small Jack Russel terrier burst out through the screen door, yapping madly. Slowly, a young boy came after it.
“Toby, heel! Come here, boy! Come back!”
Stepping out onto the strange ground, the boy got his first groggy look at the wondrous country around him.
“Wow…”
Having lived his entire life on the vast grey plains of Kansas, the boy was entirely unprepared for what he saw. Rolling green hills built up to tremendous slate mountains larger than he could ever have imagined possible, beneath an iron-coloured sky that almost seemed to reach higher than it ever had back home. The flowers he saw were unlike any that he had ever even read about in books, and the branches of the trees looped and swirled, ending in sprouts of oddly geometric leaves.
The boy was shaken out of his daze at such sights by the sound of his dog growling at something it had found in the squat purple shrubs.
“What’d you find, Toby?” As he approached, the dog darted his head into the shrubs and came back out dragging a most curious little creature by the tail.
The boy wasn’t certain if this little thing was adorable or repulsive. It stood maybe a foot tall, with six fat little legs growing out from a round, green body that looked to the boy like nothing so much as an overlarge, furry watermelon. The thing’s face was oddly mouselike, and as what seemed to the boy a final absurdity there were small flowers, identical to those he had already seen growing across the countryside, sprouting from the nape of it’s neck all the way down to it’s rump.
“Well aren’t you a funny thing?” asked the boy, squatting down to get a better look. “What are you called?”
Rather than answer, the thing gave a series of short, sharp yelps and scuttled off into the bushes once again.
Suddenly there came a shouting from behind the boy. “Aye, now! See what’s happened? She’s dead, she is!”
The boy started. She’s dead? Who? His mind flashed back to a dozen occasions when he’d feared the worst for his aunt. As he stood in thought, more voices joined a first.
“She’s dead!”
“Dead!”
“Crushed like a pondskip!”
The babble of voices, grown now to what sounded like an entire village, was coming from the other side of the trailer. The boy called his dog to heel, and the animal reluctantly released his captive. Together, they walked around the trailer to find that there was indeed a village there, dotted with squat blue buildings. Emerging from these buildings was a crowd of similarly blue people, all streaming towards the trailer.
“She’s dead, she’s dead!”
“Ding-dongaloo, she’s DEAD!”
As the gathering around the trailer grew larger and the shouts grew louder, the boy stepped out from behind the trailer and sidled cautiously up to one of the blue-skinned men nearest him.
“Excuse me, but who’s dead?”
The blue man, never turning to look at the boy, enthusiastically replied “The Witch! The Witch! The Wicked Witch of the East is dead!”
The boy relaxed at once, knowing nobody would ever refer to Aunt Emily as a witch. Even when Uncle Hank had been drinking, he never… the boy pushed this train of thought out of his head. “I’m sorry sir, but who is Wicked Witch of the East?”
“Are ye simple, lil’ one, how could ye not know…” The man trailed off as he finally turned to look at the boy. “But he’s a PINK one, he is!”
The assembled crowd gasped at the blue man’s cry, and instantly back from the boy.
“A pink one!”
“Cast him out!”
“Pink! Pink!”
The boy was mystified. Glancing around he could see, now that the crowd had pulled away, a pair of grotesque limbs sticking out from beneath the edge of the trailer. The nearby grass was stained with a viscous black ichor, and the limbs themselves were misshapen, covered in enormous warts and a coat of thick, coarse brown hair. Stepping back from the horrid sight on reflex, the boy backed directly into the blue man who had been speaking to him. With a cry of revulsion, the man pushed him away.
“Git away from me, ye foul pink creature! Ye must begone!”
Thoroughly frightened now, the boy barely managed to stammer “B-but I’m just a boy, sir. My name is Derek and I’m only twelve years old and I don’t know where my Aunt is and please, won’t you tell me what is going on?” He could feel tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.
“TRICKERY!” cried the blue man. “The Witch of the West thinks she can fool us so easily, by sending this boychild into our lands? Does she think we be so easily fooled, simply by her destroying her foul sister? Their feud is well-known, neighbours!” By now, the blue man was addressing the assembled crowd, having turned his back to young Derek. “The Witch of the West is herself a pink one, don’t ye forget! What say ye, neighbours? Let us cast out this spy, so that we may properly celebrate our new freedom!”
At this, the village gave a hearty roar of assent. Nobody knows for sure who threw the first handful of pebbles, although many would later lay claim to it in the village of the blue people, but young Derek found himself and his dog the victims of a hail of the small stones as the townsfolk drove them away to the limits of their lands before finally halting.
“Now, young Derek, as ye call yerself,” said the blue man who had first noticed him, “ye’re at the edge of the Wide Spaces. Pray to the Wizard that ye never find yerself in our village again.”
Crying openly, Derek faced the mass of blue faces, many of whom had already turned away to go back to the village. “Please, I have done nothing to you! I am just a lost little boy, without a friend in your strange world except my dog Toby. All I want is to go home!”
One of the stragglers, a youth who I daresay was not much older than Derek himself, turned at the sound of the other boy’s cries. Glancing around to be sure no-one was watching, he hissed “Go to Oz! To Oz! Follow the yellow road yonder!” before running off and vanishing into the crowd.
Not knowing what else to do, Derek followed the other boy’s advice and followed the road of yellow cobblestones into the west, his dog Toby close at his heels.