Everything around me blurred and folded in on itself, twisting into a hazy whirlpool of brilliant light and color. Aunt Em was screaming. Toto was barking madly, squirming in my arms. Somewhere, I heard Uncle Henry’s voice. “Dorothy!” he bellowed.
I couldn’t see any of them. All I saw was red and blue and green and purple and yellow as I plunged headlong into a liquid rainbow with no idea which way was up and which was down.
And then the colors stopped swirling and a new world constructed itself below me as I fell. I was just opening my mouth to scream when I hit the ground with a crash. Toto went flying out of my grip.
When I sat up a moment later, in the middle of a field, my head was still spinning but everything else was finally still again. I rubbed my eyes, trying to piece it all together.
Toto, though, had recovered himself more quickly, and was already bounding through the grass toward me. He jumped right up, barking wildly, and licked my face in excitement.
The grass underneath us was bluish green. The sky above was even bluer. Not gray. Not white. Not whitish gray. But blue. The sun was warm on my face, and a light breeze ruffled the tall grass around me.
It wasn’t a dream or a fantasy. I knew it as well as I’d ever known anything. I could feel magic in every blade of grass.
A few feet away a grove of trees bore strange and luscious-looking fruit that cycled steadily through a rainbow of colors. Farther off was a gurgling brook that I could have sworn was singing to me, saying, “Welcome home.” On the banks of the stream, enormous flowers swayed in the wind, their giant blue blossoms—some as big as beach balls—opening and closing hypnotically, as if they were breathing.
Their scent wafted toward me on the breeze. I took a deep breath. It smelled like the ocean and fresh-baked blueberry pie and like the aftershave Uncle Henry wore for special occasions. It smelled like all those things at once, in a good way.
As if all that wasn’t enough to tell me I was back in Munchkin Country, the only real proof I needed was staring right at me. Not ten paces from the stream, a little old farmhouse was situated crookedly in a patch of dirt.
Just where I had left it.
The wood was rotting, the roof was beginning to cave in, and huge tangles of twisting vines crawled out from every crevice. The windows were broken, the porch was near collapse, and the whole place appeared to be well on its way to sinking into the ground.
It had only been two years since I’d landed here, but the house looked like it had been sitting here for a century.
Still, there was no mistaking it. And I wasn’t the only one who recognized it.
I heard a high-pitched gasp, and I turned around to see Aunt Em sprawled out in a bank of wildflowers, her eyes wide in astonishment, one hand covering her mouth and the other pointing at the crumbling shack.
“Henry! Look!”
At her side, Uncle Henry rubbed his forehead as he sat up creakily. “Now see here, Dorothy,” he said irritably. Then he saw it, too.
“Well I’ll be,” he muttered. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, like he was expecting to get a different picture this time. When nothing had changed, he jerked his head back and let out a wheezing noise that was a little like a burp. “Oh my,” he said. “I knew I shouldn’t have had that drink at your party. . . . I never did have a taste for the strong stuff.”
I laughed. “Don’t you see?” I exclaimed. “We’re here! We’re all here.”
After the disastrous start my birthday had gotten off to, I was now sure I’d never been so happy in my life. I was back in Oz and this time my family had come with me. Now that Aunt Em and Uncle Henry were here, we could finally all be happy together. We would never need to go home, because home had come with me.
Aunt Em stood up, carefully dusting off her gray smocked dress.
She looked unsteady, and began to fan herself with her hand. For a second I worried that she was about to faint, but Uncle Henry stood, too, and put an arm around her waist. “There, there, Emily,” he said. “Take a minute. Breathe.” He gave me a strange look. “What have you gotten us into?” he asked. His gaze dropped to my feet accusingly. “And where on earth did you get those preposterous shoes?”
Aunt Em didn’t seem to care about the how or the why of any of this, though. Once she managed to catch her breath, she pulled herself from his grip, suddenly back in perfect form, and marched straight for the old house.
“Just look,” she marveled. “Henry, can you even believe it?”
Henry hurried after, her but he wasn’t as easy on his feet as she was, and he stumbled a few times as he tried to catch up.
“No, I can’t believe it,” he said, wheezing breathlessly.
Aunt Em pressed her palm to the weathered shingles in awe.
“Remember when you painted the window frames?”
“Yes, dear,” he replied. “But I don’t think you’re in your right mind at the moment. We have more important things to worry about. Like where we are and how we got here.”
She brushed him off with a wave of her hand.
I furrowed my brow and raced over to join them. “Excuse me,” I said. “I know it’s a wonderful house and everything. But haven’t you noticed that we’re not exactly in Kansas anymore?”
Henry jerked his face toward me sharply. “I did indeed notice, young lady. And we’re going to have a talk about that in a bit. But as you can see, your aunt isn’t well. Let’s just let her get her bearings.”
“I do have my bearings,” Aunt Em said. “Look! I’d forgotten all about this door knocker! The one you bought in Topeka just after you came home from the Great War!”
Henry’s face spread into an involuntary grin at the mention of the knocker. “Yes,” he replied softly. “I sure do remember that.”
It was just like Aunt Em and Uncle Henry to be so wrapped up in fond feelings toward our old house that they didn’t even notice where we were. You had to give it to them—my aunt and uncle had heart.
Still, I wanted them to understand the gravity of the situation. I wanted them to be as happy as I was.
“Look over here,” I said, trying to shift their attention to a bush that had sprung up next to what used to be the kitchen window. “This shrub is growing little puffballs with eyes instead of fruit.”
One of the puffballs sneezed right in my face. I jumped back in surprise, but my aunt and uncle went on ignoring me. Uncle Henry rubbed Aunt Em’s back as she examined the molding around the door frame, remarking admiringly on the craftsmanship.
Then, before I could say anything else, something happened that not even they could ignore. On the little ramshackle porch, the air began to shimmer with energy. It was pink and glittery, like a little pink fish was swimming through the air, twisting and looping in little spirals, growing brighter and stronger and pinker by the second until Aunt Em was moved to shield her eyes.
Henry clenched his fists at his sides as if preparing for a fight. I wasn’t worried. I’d already seen such strange things in this land that I just watched in excited curiosity as the energy crackled and glittered and grew until, slowly, it began to resolve itself into something resembling a form. Into something resembling a person.
Her face appeared first, pushing its way through the light as though emerging from a pool of water. Next came her golden crown, then finally the rest of her. She was standing right there on the porch, regal and glowing, just as beautiful as I remembered her. Her face was porcelain-white, punctuated with piercing blue eyes and a perfectly red, perfectly tiny little mouth. She was sheathed in a slinky pink evening gown that looked almost liquid and hugged her body scandalously.
“My oh my,” Henry said under his breath.
I knew exactly who it was. And I can’t say I was very surprised to see her. “Glinda!” I exclaimed joyfully, running to hug her.
I stopped in my tracks when I saw that she wasn’t responding. She wasn’t even looking at me. It was like she hadn’t heard me at all.
Then I noticed that her image was flickering and translucent. I could even see the faint impression of Henry’s prized door knocker shining through her image from somewhere behind her rib cage. She was fading in and out, getting clearer but then more indistinct, like she wasn’t entirely here yet.
“Dorothy,” she said, still not turning her face to meet mine. “Help me.” Her voice was a hoarse, urgent whisper.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, moving instinctively toward her. “What do you need from me? How do I help?”
Now I was standing right in front of her, but her eyes remained unfocused. She still didn’t hear me. “Help,” she repeated. “Help.” Her image came fully into focus for a last, brief moment. I lunged forward and reached for her, trying to grab her hand.
“Glinda!” I screamed.
But before I reached her, there was a bright flash of pink light, and with that, she was gone.