Many people throughout Oz hold true to their code, "No one mourns the wicked". For many of Ozians, disturbing a peaceful way of life is a crime, a crime so great it would seem, that the only fitting punishment for it is death. They would rather see justice via hearse than think for themselves, or even be denied their potatoes of supper.
In the time since I lost my friend, the vile poison of Oz, The Wicked Witch of the West… my Elphie… since then I came to watching those who came to me for guidance. Watch how they squirm and beg, many for good, and even noble reasons and concerns. I think of how none of these men would ever consider standing up to me, and often I smile to myself while comparing the strengths of green beans and human spines. Of course the green bean also attempted to overthrow a power regime with near total control of the land, whereas these people, the peasants, the nobles, aristocrats, and farmers are all just trying to feed their families at the end of the day.
A small chill runs down my spine and escapes unnoticed by the crowd gathering around the small announcement stage. The sheer thought of what Elphaba would say to me, about me, about what I do and why I do it, it's enough to run any sane persons blood cold. The Elphaba that could kill with words, with boots on her skinny legs, and massive books weighing down her arms, with no magic or insanity and no propaganda slandering her on every post. Just a student with no time for materials or folly. The girl that found life without learning a life with no reason to live.
That's the girl I mourn on this day, Elphaba Thropp, Third Descending Thropp. The green bean of Shiz, the bullied book worm, the caring sister and neglected daughter, the Animal Rights activist, Dr. Dilliamonds favorite student, the protective traveling companion. This was who I missed, not the ill minded, wind worn rag of a woman.
The crowd had gathered and the sun with high in the sky, telling me it was time. I enter onto the stage from behind a thick red curtain and look out to the people, only a few feet shorter than I am on the stage. They were all dirty faced and sweaty. It was a poor town we happened to be in, although they supplied us with much food. They all looked at with me hope, and I sighed to myself, raising my hand to stop their applause.
"My dear Ozians, as you may know today marks the four year anniversary of a great victory in Oz. Today marks the death of the Wicked Witch of the West." Pause of cheers, I wanted to tell them how they were all monsters, how none of them know just how hard she worked to try to fix things, but I had a script, and carried it out. Soon there were festivities, drinking, games, drinking and soon fighting, which was followed by more drinking and games, story telling and music.
No one mourns the wicked in this town, not even I do. So I return to my stay and openly weep for the brightest student at Shiz, I weep for Frexspars lost daughters, I weep for my friend, my love, my Elphie.