Master of My Fate

AN: I take a deep breath and step onto the stage, the audience waiting for me with baited breath. "Ladies and Gentlemen," I say, bowing low. "This is my first fan fiction that I've ever written. I am quite proud of it, and, due to encouragement, I've decided to publish the first chapter. This story has a character of my own creation, but it is woven into the story of the Wicked Witch of the West and the rebellion against the Wizard. Now, my character is in debt slavery, which is a form of modern day slavery. I highly suggest that you watch the short movie 'Kavi,' as this movie explains how slavery can stretch across generations and how it has been allowed to remain because of the power of money. Also, there are some language terms we must address. 'Baba' means 'father' in Swahili, and 'Maman' means 'mother' in French." I bow again, and am about to step off the stage when something else occurs to me. "Oh! Please review, as I want to hear your constructive criticism and thoughts. Thank you." I step off the stage into the darkness. The curtains open.

Chapter One: Your Bones (Of Monsters and Men):

I knew that something was wrong. Even a mutt like me knew that the wind never blew like this before. I stood in front of milord's stables, watching the sky turn a sickening greenish yellow, the wind whipping my rust red dreadlocks into my face. I wasn't the only one watching-all of Muchkinland was transfixed by the whirlwind as it neared the city and the Governor's Mansion. Even from this distance (milord's estate being several miles from the mansion), I could tell that there was something vaguely dark and rectangular in the mass of swirling wind.

Then, without warning, the wind exploded across the land, forcing me to the ground as the cornstalks whipped frantically. When I looked up, all was still-too still. I didn't know much about magic, but my maman always told me that magic leaves traces that a person could find if they looked hard enough. Sure enough, I could see the faint shimmer in the air above what used to be the Governor's Mansion (now occupied with a farmhouse of all things). To the untrained eye, it might look like the heat rising. But I knew. That tornado wasn't natural.

"Hey! You there, Mutt!" The words of the overseer cut through my thoughts. Turning, I saw him sneer down at me from his horse (he never left the animal, because, being a Munchkin, I would have towered over him). "Didn't you check the horses?!" he yelled, glaring down at me. I shook my head. "Well, get going! I don't know why I have to deal with a filthy debt slave like you." He spat, riding off towards the fields.

I looked down at my hands, rough calluses and thin scars covering the dark skin. Even though slavery had been technically illegal since the beginning of Oz, wealthy landowners could still gain debt slaves: offer to pay a starving family food in exchange for working on his land. The family would pay off their debts as they worked-supposedly. Yet, the family would have to add on debt for food, clothing, and taxes to the lord. Eventually, the family would be in so much debt that the lord would own each and every person in that family, including future generations. This is what happened to my family: my great-grandfather's family had been tricked into debt slaver. And now, three generations later, that debt still stands, binding me just as effectively as an iron chain.

As I checked the horses (who were just a little spooked), the road leading to the Governor's Mansion was becoming packed. People were shouting and singing that the Governor was dead, killed by a falling house. I watched as milord reprimanded the overseer for watching the ruckus, and couldn't help but smile as he spluttered an apology, his face bright red with embarrassment. As the overseer unfortunately looked over at that moment, the smile wasn't wiped off my face quickly enough. The overseer's face turned from red to puce faster than a traffic light as he stalked over. But as milord was watching, he couldn't beat me for anything reasonable. So, purple with rage, he pointed at me, then at a nearby pitchfork, then the cornfield before stalking away. Wordlessly, I picked up the pitchfork and walked into the cornfield.

Here, the annoying singing and shouting faded as I walked further and further away. However, I wasn't expecting to walk into a black shoulder bag lying on the ground. Immediately, I saw the shimmer around it- there were traces of magic here. Warily, I looked around before cautiously poking the bag with the pitchfork. Nothing came biting or snarling out at me, so I bent down and picked it up.

Inside was a large, old book covered in writing that I couldn't understand. Yet, as I held the book, I could see the shimmer spreading from the book to my hands, sliding around my arms, my torso, and my legs. Quickly, I shut the book, but before I could move, I heard yelling. Peeking around a stalk of corn, I saw two women standing, looking like they were ready to start going at each other like wild dogs. I recognized both of the women immediately. The blonde woman, with her sparkling wand, was obviously Glinda the Good. The other, with her pointed hat and her striking green skin, was none other than the Wicked Witch of the West.

As the two witches circled each other, continuing to argue, I examined the Wicked Witch of the West. If you looked just at her skin color and the fact that she was absolutely furious, you would assume that she wanted to kill Glinda. Unfortunately, I couldn't see her face clearly, just her long black hair and the green skin of her hands. As I listened closer, however, I could hear the grief and guilt twisting her voice as she shouted. "I wanted something to remember her by!" Her? Then I remembered. She and her sister were the Wicked Witches of the East and West.

"Elphie, it's dreadful! I know! To have a house fall on you! But accidents will happen!" Elphie? Why did Glinda call her Elphie? And why have I heard that name before? As the witches started hurling insults at each other, my mind started to wander, in spite of the fascination catfight in front of me. Elphie sounded like a nickname for…what? Elphadora? No. Elphondra? Nope. And then, as I looked down at the book still clutched in my hands, it hit me like a ton of bricks. The former Governor's daughter, Elphaba Thropp, had always been around before she had disappeared from the world a couple of years ago. Was this her?

The sound of a slap quickly snapped my attention back to the two witches. Now, they both had angry red marks on their faces, screaming as they fought each other tooth and nail. And then, like a nightmare come to life, the Gale Force materialized around the clearing, grabbing hold of the two witches and prying them apart with some difficulty. The sight of the Gale Force soldiers filled me with both fear and rage. I had seen what they were capable of doing-they had slaughtered many of the debt slaves who had tried to stage a rebellion several years ago. As my hands started to shake with anger, I felt heat on them and looked down at the book. It was starting to glow, the shimmer becoming stronger.

Looking up, I saw Elphaba Thropp's eyes snap up, slamming into mine from across the clearing. Our eyes met, and in them, I could see that she was trying to tell me something. Run, I thought, but before I could do so, a man sprinted into the clearing, coming so close that I could feel the heat of his body. He dashed into the clearing, skidding to a halt in front of Glinda, cocking his rifle in the same motion as he lifted the gun to her face.

I saw the people running pas, torches, pitchforks, and guns held in their hands. The night was so loud-I could hear the screaming and gunshots. Then, silence fell as several Gale Force soldiers walked into the clearing, dragging a man behind them.

The man was yelling now, and the Gale Force suddenly let Elphaba Thropp go. The man, Fiyero I heard her call him, grabbed her broom and threw it to her. She caught it and then stopped. She didn't want to leave him. But what choice did she have? She mounted her broom and kicked off, looking down at the people in the clearing before her eyes again slid to mine. She looked at me with all the desperation and grief that was possible, and I realized what I was holding. It was the Grimmerie, the most powerful of all the spell books in Oz.

Barely minutes after Elphaba Thropp flew from the clearing, had Fiyero dropped his gun. In seconds, they swarmed around him, dragging Glinda away before putting him up on several poles. One of them grabbed his knife and cut off his shirt. The rest gathered various weapons- swords, maces, and spears- and stood waiting as their leader pulled out a black leather whip laced with the razor sharp diamonds that only the Gale Force possessed. He raised his arm back, cracking it across Fiyero's back. Blood poured onto the ground.

The leaders of the rebellion were gathered in the clearing, surrounded by Gale Force soldiers. My maman and baba were there; tied up, long scratches oozing down their faces. The leader grabbed the whip. He let it fly against my baba. Immediately, gashes appeared in his chest, his back, his arms, and his face. My maman was screaming. All he could do was look at me as his blood soaked the earth, staining it black.

I didn't realize when I had stepped into the clearing. I only know that one second I was in hiding- now, I was holding the Grimmerie, the shimmer heating up as all the anger and rage, built up inside of me after so many years, cause the book's pages to flutter. As the Gale Force ran towards me, I looked down at the book's pages- before, where there had been unintelligible writing, one sentence stood out clearly:

Hostes meos et amicos meos defendo

I hadn't even realized that I had yelled the words aloud- it was as though someone inside me had spoken them instead. I felt the hands of the Gale Force grab onto my arms. There was a moment when everything seemed to slow down: the sky, the earth, the faces in front of me moving as though they were underwater, For the first time in a long time, I felt at peace.

Then the world exploded around me.