The storm was getting stronger. She kept running, but any moment now it would catch up with her. Without a second thought, she ran into a rattling farmhouse. She search round frantically, her breath coming out in dry sobs. Where would she hide. There was no place where she be safe from the storm when it engulfed the house.
She looked out the window, fear creeping slowly through her limbs and up into her head releasing tears that would not be held back any more. A dog appeared at her side yelping and whining in desperation and terror. Pain shot through her head and everything went fuzzy and faded into black.
On opening her eyes again, the farmhouse was now flying through the air, with her and the dog inside. A noise drew her to the window. A woman was flying beside the house. She blinked, no it wasn't a woman, it couldn't be. She glanced further out the window and down toward the ground. It was coming closer. What could she do?
The ground travelled faster and faster to greet the falling farmhouse and its occupants. The ground didn't care if what wounded it was alive or dead. Everything became the ground eventually; and the ground would always be there with openness to greet everything.
The farmhouse hurtled faster and faster toward the waiting surface below. She braced herself any second now the ground would accept them...
Dorothy Gale jerked awake, panting from the dream. The dream that chose to haunt her since she was younger.
"Are you awake yet?" a shout rose from the rooms below. Dorothy sat up slowly.
"Yea..Yeah!" she croaked, her voice not used to talking yet. She could hear her Aunt Em walking back to the kitchen where she was more than likely preparing a large breakfast for them both before they began their work on the farm. Dorothy flung her legs out from under her covers and allowed her feet to gently fall onto the rug that lay there. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she moved across to the waiting water jug and bowl and poured some water from the former to the latter. Dorothy gently rinsed her face; feeling the water refresh her warm skin that was already damp from sweat after the nightmare. She began washing her face and neck a bit more firmly, getting the ends of her long brown hair wet. When she felt clean enough, she grasped the clean towel that had been left out for her and began to pat her face dry. Dorothy walked over to her dresser and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
She was a far cry from that youthful naive child in her dream. Dorothy Gale had grown up. The memories of the world she had created after her accident during a storm now only a dream. After extensive 'treatment' after the event, Dorothy had finally accepted that it had not been real. The face that looked back showed the scars of a hard life. Her long brown hair was not styled like all the fashionably girls of her age, instead it fell straight if left down, which wasn't often, and in a neat French plait when she had work to do. Both styles had one thing in common; a thick fringe to hide the marked skin on her forehead from the electric shock therapy received when she was fourteen to relieve the nightmares and her delusions of travelling to another world. Her brown eyes rarely sparkled now, but that was due to a much more recent grief. Her Uncle Henry had died only a year before, so it was up to Dorothy to handle the farm. The farmhands that they used to have had all been subscripted into the army to help with a war over in Europe, so it was all Dorothy's burden. The year had not been kind, a once full, rosy face was now thin and pale.
Dorothy glanced back into the mirror after she had dressed. Hair plaited and work clothes on; dungarees and a plaid shirt. There was no point in wearing a dress or skirt for farm work. She pulled on her heavy boots and made her way down to the kitchen.
The kitchen air hung with the full, heady scent of breakfast. Against one wall was the stove and working surfaces and against the opposite the table with three chairs carefully place around. The wall facing Dorothy had the door out to the barn and on the floor the long empty basket that had once belonged to her dog Toto. A small smile appeared on her face, Toto was the only friend Dorothy had growing up. But he had died when she was sixteen.
"Sleep well, hun?" Aunt Em asked her cheerily, barely glancing away from the stove where she was cooking eggs, bacon and toast.
"Yeah," Dorothy lied. A sigh from Em was enough to convince her that the lie had now worked. Dorothy shifted nervously in her chair as she sat down. No matter how much older she got, lying to Aunt Em was still a dangerous task that left Dorothy nervous in case the carpet beater surfaced. But Aunt Em said nothing.
While waiting for her aunt to finish the breakfast, Dorothy decided to make herself busy preparing coffee. Occasionally stealing glances toward her ageing aunt. The past year had not been at all kind to Aunt Em either; worse, in fact, than it had been for Dorothy. The once spry and glowing middle aged woman had dramatically transformed into a tottering and frail looking old woman. It made Dorothy worry.
"Here we are then." Aunt Em called sitting down two healthy sized breakfasts onto the scrubbed wood table. Dorothy finished pouring the coffee from the pot over the stove and brought them over to the table.
"Looks great!" Dorothy said appreciatively, practically drooling at the feast in front of her. Dorothy sat in her chair and glance at her aunt with a smile which faded slowly as she noticed her aunts gaze was on the empty chair that had once sat Uncle Henry. Dorothy blinked back tear that caught in her throat and concentrating on eating breakfast.
"Don't forget you'll have to got into town later to pick up a new part for the mill." Aunt Em reminded Dorothy, picking at the food on her plate like a sparrow, while Dorothy practically inhaled it.
"Yeah," Dorothy mumble through a mouth of food and took a large sip of coffee to help wash it down, "Gonna need to get new hinges for the storm cellar, noticed they were rusted through in places." Aunt Em nodded vacantly and placed down her fork. The plate was still full.
"You okay, Aunt Em?" Dorothy asked cautiously. Asking if Aunt Em was okay was just a dangerous as lying to her. "I'll bring the doctor back from town if you need me to?" Dorothy nearly fell out her seat with shock when Aunt Em nodded.
"That might be good, not felt myself for a couple of days." She muttered, standing and placing her plate next to the sink. "You can feed that to the chickens, save wastin' it." Dorothy watched as her aunt began to walk out the door to the barn to start milking the four cows they still had. Another four had to be given up; it was too much for just the two of them to cope with.
Dorothy finished her breakfast in nervous silence. 'Maybe I'll head into town right now,' she thought, 'Well, after I've sorted the darn chickens' Dorothy drained the last dregs of coffee in her cup and set both plate and cup in the sink. Heading toward the door, Dorothy picked up the plate of food her Aunt Em had left and her Uncle Henry's old hat that was hanging on a nail. It still smelled faintly of him, which was why Dorothy liked wearing it when she worked; to remind herself of why the farm was so important. She stepped out the door into the bright Kansas sunshine and took a deep breath. The hat protected her eyes from the glare. The air smelled heavy. There would probably be some rain later, or a storm. Dorothy hoped for the former; she was still nervous when a storm blew in.
Dorothy clumped across the dry dirt toward where the chickens were kept. When there she flung the remains of the breakfast to the ground for them to peck at and a handful of seed from the sack. On hearing the seed fall, all the chickens came clucking out from the coop in a frantic battle for the food.
While they were busy pecking their way through the food, Dorothy quickly completed the job at hand and collected any eggs that had been laid; six of them her Aunt would keep, but the rest would be sold at the market in town. Dorothy found seventeen eggs, not many considering they had twenty-five chickens.
After that job was done, Dorothy went to double check what else was needed in town. A few pieces were needed for the new generator; something her aunt thought was pointless, but the generator was needed to create electricity. Then maybe they would get some use from the electric lights that her uncle had fitted before he died and before he had finished the generator. Dorothy was slowly finishing it, getting advice on how to fix these sorts of things from the mechanic in town.
Dorothy scribbled a list of things to pick up in town and grabbed her brown jacket from the barn.
"I'll be back soon, Aunt Em." She mentioned and gave her aunt a quick peck on the cheek before jumping onto the beat up trunk; something else her uncle ad unfortunately left unfinished. Although he had given her a few lessons in it when the engine had been sorted, it now just needed the body work completed. Dorothy inserted the key and the engine spluttered to life, making a mental note to pick up some gas in town as well.
After a brief wave to her Aunt Em, who peered out the barn and waved her off, Dorothy pulled off and made her way into the town.