The Jester of OZ

Chapter Twelve

Deep in the halls of Emerald City, Scarecrow began to pace for the millionth time all day. Bags resided underneath his eyes as his hands massaged the sides of his head. He stared at the floor as he walked, trying to clear his head despite the curse's grip on his thoughts. He wandered aimlessly through the halls, turning into the throne room, then into a random bedroom where he knew he couldn't sleep. All the while, the visions that danced in his head played again over and over, taunting him. "Dorothy... Dorothy... Dorothy... Dorothy... Dorothy is the key..." He said to himself over and over again as he walked down the hall that led to the Wizard's chamber. "He won't free me... he won't... he wants to keep her... he's a LIAR! The Jester always lies! The Jester always lies!" Scarecrow stated just as another migraine grabbed ahold of him. The pain caused him to lean onto one of the nearby pillars. Using all his strength, he pulled himself towards the chamber's entrance. "Dorothy is the key... where is it?!" He hissed, one hand gripping the side of his head whilst the other felt around for the door handle. The door, still beaten and broken from the last time the Jester was there, swung open with a loud creak. A few dust particles were disturbed, flying slowly throughout the condensed air. Hobbling into the room, it was just as they had left it. A few windows were broken, dried oil resided on the floor from the Tinman's tears, and everything that had been left of the previous wizard lay in ruins.

Scarecrow didn't know where Tinman had gone. Of course, he did have a million ideas. The trail of oil lead out the door, so perhaps he went off to go rust inside one of the many barren rooms. Without the oil can, he was likely frozen by now. As for the Scarecrow, he struggled to stand straight as he wobbled towards the Wizard's old belongings. "Where is it? Dorothy, where is it? Where is it, where is it, where is it?!" Using his gloved straw hands, he landed on his knees and began to toss aside the old objects as if his life depended on it. He couldn't take it anymore, it hurt him too much. The Wizard's cabinet had many random items. There were several watches, clocks, gloves, screws, bolts, and matches, but none of them seemed to be what he was looking for. He cried out as another large jolt of pain came over his mind. Stopping of a moment, he lifted his quivering hands to his head. His hat fell off as he did so. In the middle of the ringing in his head, all sound including the wind outside went quiet. Groaning, his eyes closed and reopened. That was when he saw it. On the floor, a few feet away from where he was, sat a familiar light baby blue ribbon.

"Why, you did say something didn't you!" The sweetest sound he had ever heard appeared in his ears.

A memory washed over him, taking hold of his vision as well as his mind. He felt like he had said something in response, because she had spoken again after a few seconds.

"Are you doing that on purpose? Or can't you make up your mind?" The beautiful girl asked him, walking closer with her small chocolate brown dog beside her. Sheepishly, from the cornfield, he answered her, "That's the trouble, I can't make up my mind! I haven't got a brain. Only straw..." She tilted her head, almost as if she had never seen a scarecrow talk. "Well how can you talk if you haven't got a brain?" She asked. "I don't know!" He exclaimed, realizing that she was just as smart as she was pretty. In that moment, everything slowed. Was she there? Was she real? He didn't know... Scarecrow then paused, feeling as if he should say something to her, to the memory. "Dorothy..." He spoke. "What is it? Are you alright?" She asked, approaching him by walking off the yellow brick road and into the field. Like a two-way hallucination, Scarecrow allowed a tear to roll down his cheek. From a person's perspective, it would appear as if he was talking to the invisible thin air around him. "I don't know..." He told her, curse allowing him to speak his mind for the first time in forever. The weight on his chest became too emotional to bear. Was this how Tinman felt? "Oh! Don't cry. I'm sorry... Can I help you down?" She looked concerned. "Can you help me think again?" He asked, eyeing the similar hair ribbon that was tied onto both of her pigtails. It was then something unexpected happened, Dorothy, the memory Dorothy, smiled at him. He fell from the wooden beam, released by an unknown force onto the grass. The crows in the background decided to suddenly hush. Back in the Wizard's chamber, his body jerked and fell to the floor almost as if he had dreamed he fell. She knelt down to him, caressing his soft clothed face by smoothing out any wrinkles. "I miss you... the real you..." He told her, looking up into her dark, kind eyes.