Disclaimer: I do not own Wicked
Disclaimer: I do not own Wicked.
Wickedness Happens-
-A Story
Galinda decided that reading upside-down was quite difficult. But then she supposed that because she was upside-down and the book was upside-down then she was really reading right-side-up; so it was normal, despite the fact that all of her blood was quickly rushing to her brain. The logic of the thought made her head hurt, even more, so she quickly dismissed it; deciding that she was indeed reading right-side-up, even though she felt like she was upside-down.
The teachings of some preacher rambled on about the origins of sin and evil and how he believed that the Kumbric Witch was the root of all evil in their world of Oz. Galinda's brow furrowed. Odd, she surmised. In all her previous teachings Galinda had always been told that the Kumbric Witch had simply been a Witch, from which all Witches had been born and mothered by. But never before had she heard the Kumbric Witch referred to as wicked. She continued to read. Evil…something, something…witch…something, something…wicked…something, something. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. She hated reading for school.
And yet, she felt intrigued.
Did the fact that the Kumbric Witch had indeed been a witch make her evil? Did that name make her wicked? Galinda sighed and turned the page. According to this preacher it seemed so. He gave no other reason that she was evil except for the fact that she was a witch. Galinda didn't understand why she cared so much. The Kumbric Witch couldn't help herself from being a witch. It was who she was. And this preacher calling her wicked made Galinda sympathetic to her being.
Could a name really mean so much? If the name meant the witch was wicked, did that mean that any name could mean wicked? Galinda's head hurt more.
Galinda sighed and threw the book towards the head of the bed, by her pillows. The object hit her feet and she kicked it. Galinda stretched her arms above her head, running them along the floor. She looked around the room, upside-down; her head hanging off the foot of the bed.
Elphaba was sitting opposite her, reading the same book Galinda had just thrown away. The green girl seemed intrigued, but her face showed disgust. Elphaba snorted making Galinda giggle quietly. The blood continued to rush to Galinda's brain.
"Elphie," Galinda, said, rolling her head from side to side; reaching her arms straight into the air and wiggling her fingers.
There was no response.
"Elphie," Galinda said again.
Elphaba turned the page of her book and read on.
"Elphiiiiieeee," Galinda wined.
There was a sigh and Elphaba closed her book, using her finger to keep place. She looked to her roommate. "What?"
"Can I ask you a question?" Galinda asked, tilting her head to the side.
Elphaba stifled a laugh at Galinda's awkward position. "That depends on the question I suppose."
"Oh it's nothing personal," Galinda said, swinging her head so her hair swept across the floor. "I know how you hate those."
Elphaba arched her brow at her blonde friend's antics. "Well, out with it then."
Galinda opened her mouth to respond when her vision went blurry. She had the feeling that her entire blood supply was now resting in her head; a loud pounding began to bang away in her ears. She closed her eyes, shook her head, then grabbed the sheets of her bed; pulling herself up. In a swift movement she rolled onto her stomach. The movement, however, was too quick. As the blood rushed back through her body at a fast pace, her eyes blacked out slightly and she swooned, rolling too far and falling off the bed.
"Ow." She moaned into the floor.
Elphaba let out a loud cackle, leaning back against her head board and clutching her stomach.
"Uuuuuuhhhhhh," Galinda moaned again, rolling onto her back and looking at the ceiling. She rubbed her head. "That hurt," she groaned.
Elphaba continued to laugh.
Slowly, Galinda pushed herself up. Still sitting, she turned on the floor to look at her laughing friend; a pout on her face. "You're lucky I'm not seriously hurt," she said, folding her arms and looking like a five-year-old.
"Why?" Elphaba asked, after her laughing calmed.
"Because I could have been hurt!" Galinda exclaimed, eyes wide.
Elphaba smirked. "Oh please," she said, dryly. Galinda scowled. "Aren't you going to get up?" Elphaba asked, when Galinda continued to sit in her spot on the floor.
Galinda huffed and turned her nose up, looking at the far corner of the room, where the wall met the ceiling.
Elphaba rolled her eyes, pushed away from her head board, and got off her bed. She trudged over to where Galinda was, walked around her and grabbed under the petite girl's arms, hauling her to her feet, with no help from the blonde at all.
Galinda smiled smugly. "Thank you," she said, clipping her words.
Elphaba rolled her eyes again and pushed Galinda onto her bed. The blonde landed with a humph and bounced slightly. She turned and glared at her roommate; Elphaba smiled in return. "You had a question for me?" Elphaba asked, crossing her arms across her chest.
Galinda tilted her head to the side, "I did?" Elphaba rolled her eyes. "Oh I did!" Galinda moved along her bed, grabbing Elphaba by the arm and pulling her with, until they were sitting side by side on the small bed.
"Well?" Elphaba asked, trying to sit comfortably with Galinda pressed tightly into her side so neither fell off the bed.
Galinda shifted and picked up her book, staring at its cover, she ran her fingers along the spine; the feeling of intrigue washing over her.
"Galinda?" Elphaba asked, concern seeping into her voice.
"Why does wickedness happen?" Galinda asked, looking at her friend.
"What?" Elphaba's eyes widened. Galinda shrugged and looked down at the book in her hands. "Where is this coming from?"
Galinda shrugged again. "Well, I was reading this and I don't know. He calls the Kumbric Witch wicked, just because she's a witch. He doesn't give any other reason. So I was just wondering…" Galinda's voice trailed off, suddenly feeling foolish. She blushed.
Elphaba sighed and looked straight ahead, staring at her bed. Galinda did the same. They sat, sitting in a silence that was neither comfortable nor awkward. It was thoughtful. "It's a good question," Elphaba finally spoke. "Are people born wicked? Or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?" She asked, rhetorically. "Is she wicked because of her name? Or does she have the name because she's wicked?" There was silence. "It's all a big circle I suppose. Really depends on what you personally believe."
"And what do you believe, Elphie?" Galinda asked, turning her head; looking at her best friend.
"I don't believe in the Kumbric Witch," Elphaba said with an air of authority and determination.
"So then, if you don't believe in the Kumbric Witch, does that mean you don't believe in wickedness?"
"I never said that," Elphaba replied, turning to Galinda.
"But," Galinda sighed, turning and looking at the book in her hands once more. "According to this man, if you don't believe in Kumbricia then that implies you don't believe in wickedness, right?"
I do believe I've rubbed off on you, Elphaba thought with a smug smile. "And that's exactly it, Galinda," Elphaba responded, taking the book from her the blonde. She weighed it carefully, tossing it between her hands. "That's what he thinks," she grabbed the book by the spine and threw it. It landed with a 'thunk' across the room in the far corner. "What do you think?"
"Citizens of Oz...There is an enemy who must be found and captured. Believe nothing she says, she is evil--responsible for the mutilation of these poor, innocent monkeys."
"No," Glinda whimpered, running to Elphaba and grabbing her hand.
"Her green skin is but an outward manifestorium of her twisted nature. This distortion…this repulsion…this WICKED WITCH!"
A deathly silence filled the air making the cold attic seem freezing. Glinda took in a deep steadying breath and held Elphaba's hand tighter. They didn't move and they didn't speak. The two friends simply stood, staring straight-a-head; clinging to the other.
Glinda's mind was a flurry of thoughts. How could this have happened? What just happened? One minute they had been fine. Elphaba was being praised by the Wizard. She was proving herself, about to become a magic advisor of sorts. And now…now.
The Wizard was a fake. Elphaba had made sure to point that out. He was neither grand nor wonderful. But a cowardly man who hid behind an intimidating mask. A man who was responsible for all the horrible things that were happening to Animals. Animals who were subjects of his land. Animals who had become a victim to their glorious leader. Animals who still looked to their leader for guidance.
And now…now.
Elphaba. Kind, innocent, unknowing, once hopeful Elphaba. Her hopes were shattered. Her dreams destroyed. She was tricked and now…framed. A woman who would never harm another being even if she wanted to or tried. Elphaba was now wicked.
It made no sense. Glinda's head buzzed and she felt dizzy. She clung to Elphaba's hand tighter, if only to keep herself standing.
Elphaba wasn't wicked. She couldn't be wicked. Never had Glinda ever thought she would use the words "wicked" and "Elphaba" in the same sentence. Awkward, perhaps. Gangly, maybe. Different, well of course. But Wicked? Never wicked.
And yet, that was the one word Madame Morrible had chosen; despite the fact that it had been wrongly given. And by the sounds of the commotion that could slowly be heard filling the streets outside, the people of the Emerald City (and soon all of Oz) would believe just that.
The silence continued on. Something had to be said, Glinda knew. She sighed and took in a deep breath. Anything to break this awful silence. Something strong, something reassuring. Something to stop the shaking of Elphaba's hand.
"Don't be afraid," Glinda whispered, keeping her eyes trained forward.
"I'm not," Elphaba responded after a beat, her voice shaking slightly. "It's the wizard who should be afraid…of me."
Glinda slowly turned to face her friend. The look on Elphaba's face made Glinda's heart stop. It was so…so…menacing. She looked more alive then Glinda had ever seen her before. Passion burned through her gaze. The green woman was shaking, as each breath she took rattled her body.
Glinda once again clutched tighter to Elphaba's hand; though this time to keep herself from taking a step back. Elphaba needed her now, needed her support. Even if a slight rush of fear flew through Glinda's body at the maniacal look on Elphaba's face.
"Elphie," Glinda pleaded, turning fully and grasping Elphaba's hand with both of her own. "Listen to me, just…say you're sorry. Before it's too late. You can still fix this. You can still have everything you've talked about. Everything you've ever wanted."
"No, Glinda," Elphaba said, shaking her hand out of Glinda's and pushing her friend away. She walked to the other side of the attic. "I don't want it--no, I can't want it. Not anymore. Not ever."
The two friends stood facing one another. Glinda felt her blood run cold as Elphaba continued to stare at her; the feeling that their lives had just changed at Elphaba's quiet words. Elphaba smiled slightly and the only thing that Glinda could think of was that in this exact moment Elphaba truly looked wicked.
Glinda gulped, having a feeling that this sudden change that had been brought upon them would not turn out for the good.
"Fugitive Animals are helping and protecting her!"
Glinda stood just behind the door that led out of the palace and too the balcony where pronouncements were made. Fiyero stood behind her, his hand placed lightly on her shoulder; rubbing small comforting circles. Madame Morrible stood before her, waiting until the clock struck four to lead the way in their appearance. Another press conference. Glinda sighed and rubbed her temple. Though this one was different, she supposed, she and Fiyero would be announcing their engagement. A small smile broke across her face and she stifled a giggle. It was so exciting. Even if Fiyero didn't know about the engagement, yet. He would say yes, she knew, how could he not? They were so happy together.
"Oh but not only that! She's helping them as well!"
Glinda paused and her head tilted. She wrinkled at her nose. The words of the Ozian who spoke ran through her head. Ironical. It was the one word she could think of. Glinda's mind focused on the one word of the sentence that she seemed to be unable to wrap her mind around. Helping. Usually, the word 'helping' was such a good, kind word. A word of thanks and gratitude. And yet…used in this sentence, with the tone of her Fellow Ozian so disgusted and displeased. It was odd how tone could do that to a simple word.
So what if Elphaba was helping Animals? What did it matter? She was still being helpful. She was helping beings that were never given help anymore. Just because no one else dared to help the neglected and prosecuted. It was all simply because the Wizard said Animals were bad. And if animals were bad anyone who helped them was bad too.
Ironical.
For in the beginning Elphaba had been blamed for "mutilating" the flying monkeys. And now she was blamed for helping Animals. No one seemed to care or see the difference. As long as Morrible continued to tell the denizens of Oz that Elphaba was wicked, they would believe it. And Glinda would be there to raise their spirits.
Madame Morrible made a motion with her hand and in a unified step, she, Glinda and Fiyero walked out onto the balcony. Glinda approached the microphone and held her hands up for silence.
"Fellow Ozians," she spoke, her voice soothing and calm. "As terrifying as terror is, let us put aside our panic for this one day…and celebrate!"
…
"Then what are we doing?!" Fiyero exclaimed. "Let's get out of here." He grabbed Glinda's hand and pulled.
"No," Glinda said, stubbornly, pulling her hand from Fiyero's grasp. "I can't leave now, not when people are depending on me to raise their spirits."
Fiyero looked at her with a pointed gaze, making her want to shrink back. She stood her ground. "No, you can't leave because you can't resist all of this," he said in disgust.
"Maybe I can't," Glinda replied, defensively. "But can you blame me? Who could?"
"You know who could, who has," Fiyero's voice was calm, low, and challenging.
Glinda felt something twist and break in the pit of her soul at Fiyero's words. Elphaba didn't resist this type of life. She had never been a part of it to begin with. She had been given the opportunity and she chose to ignore it. And now Glinda was taking the opportunity. It was what she, and Elphaba, had always dreamed of. She was helping people. She was bringing good through out the land of Oz. Even if it was at the cost of a friendship. After all the costs were bound to be high when one had to do the right thing.
Elphaba had chosen her destiny. Glinda had chosen hers. Destiny was destiny and choices were choices. They had made their choices, one had been a bad one and one had been a good one….and that's all there was to it.
"Her sister," the words slowly rolled off Glinda's tongue, piercing the silent, still air.
"What was that?" Madama Morrible asked. No one responded. "What did she say?"
The Wizard held his hand up, silencing the older woman, waiting for Glinda to continue.
"Use her sister," Glinda spoke again, her voice calm and collected; masking the pain that was ripping through her body. "Spread a rumor. Make her think her sister is in trouble and she will fly to her side." Glinda took a deep breath and clutched at her stomach, willing herself not to break down. "And you will have her. Now if your Ozness will excuse me—I have a slight headache," Glinda's voice cracked slightly and she took in another deep breath. "I think I'll go lie down."
Glinda ran from the thrown room, neither waiting for a response nor caring if she got one. Tears began to run down her cheeks and she wrapped her arms around her middle, clutching her sides. She was trying to keep herself together, but was failing miserably. She quickly reached her room and threw the door open, rushing inside and slamming the door behind her. She took two steps towards her bed before she collapsed, falling into a heap on the floor.
How could they? How could they?! The two people she loved more than anyone in the world. Her best friend and her fiancé, running off together without so much as a glance backwards.
Elphaba's face filled her mind. The look of guilt so apparent as Fiyero pulled her out of the thrown room. Glinda quickly pushed the thought away. That single look would warrant no forgiveness from her. Betrayal had never warranted forgiveness. And it never would.
She had trusted her. Glinda had trusted Elphaba far more than she had ever trusted anyone before. And she had kept her safe. Always reassuring the citizens of Oz and keeping them happy, allowing Elphaba to run around semi-safe. Though Glinda had never known where Elphaba had been, she and Fiyero had kept the guard at a distance, insuring that she wouldn't have been caught in harmful way.
And this was how she was repaying her? Running away with the one man who made Glinda happy. The man who had been her rock during her tough times. The one's who shoulder she had cried one when Elphaba had left her in the first place. Now Elphaba had taken him away and Glinda had no one. She was alone.
Weakly, Glinda pushed up from the floor. She stood on shaky legs and tumbled towards her vanity; catching herself, she sat down in the chair. Clumsily Glinda pushed the items of her overcrowded vanity around until she found the wipes she had been looking for. She took three and furiously began to wipe away at her makeup.
Once her face was clear Glinda stared at her hard reflection.
If that's how Elphaba was going to be, then Glinda would return the favor. Bringing her into captivity would be for Glinda's own gain. After all, how could a best friend do that to another best friend? She would be able to confront her, make her feel guilty for what she had done.
A torture in the goodliest of ways.
Glinda stared at her reflection, not recognizing the woman who gazed back at her. She was heartbroken and felt cold. A shiver ran through her spine at the cold gaze she gave herself.
Never in her life had Glinda ever though Elphaba to be wicked. But at this exact moment, it was the only adjective she could use to describe that woman. She had destroyed Glinda's happiness, without a backwards glance; not caring what happened to Glinda in the aftermath.
That Wicked Witch of a woman, she once called a best friend, would pay for what she had done.
Regret was but a fleeting feeling.
Glinda tumbled into her room as she opened the door, letting it slam behind her as she fell to the floor. Quickly, she reached for the waste basket by her vanity and heaved. She stopped only for a minute to catch her breath, taking deep gasping breaths before heaving again, emptying her already empty stomach. When she was done she pushed the waste basket away and slumped to the floor, her tears falling faster than they ever had before.
How could she? How could she have succumbed to this? How could she have allowed herself to do the unthinkable? She knew there was the possibility that it wasn't her fault. But the coincidence was too close. To precise. To perfect. She could pretend and deny, she could tell Elphaba it had been a sad twist of fate. But it would never stop the fact that she was and would always be responsible. She wasn't stupid and she knew.
Glinda had suggested. And the weather had taken care of it. And there was only one woman who could make the weather act as it had.
Glinda felt another wave a nausea wash through her and she clutched her stomach.
Nessarose was dead. Fiyero was surely not far behind. And she and Elphaba had fought so horribly, their relationship was probably far beyond repair. In one single suggestion of anger and hurt Glinda had single-handedly destroyed the three relationships Elphaba had, no doubt, cherished above any others. She was now sister-less, lover-less, and best friend-less.
Wicked. Elphaba. Glinda.
Throughout Oz, Elphaba was the Wicked Witch of the West. Know for her terror and hateful words against the Wizard. Known for helping Animals. She was the outcast. Unloved and hated. She was the green freak dreaded by all of Oz.
Throughout Oz, Glinda was Glinda the Good. Following in Elphaba's wake of terror and reassuring the citizens of Oz that all would be well. She gave, asking for nothing in return. She was loved and wanted. She was the identity of all things good people sought to be.
Wicked. Evil. Unwanted. Hated.
By definition it was Elphaba. Yet, Glinda knew, by action it was her.
Elphaba flew around Oz, helping Animals in need when no one else would. She fled from the law to do the right thing. And now her life was in shambles, having lost her only friends and family because of a single act of Glinda's jealousy.
I'm the Wicked Witch of the West, I can do what I want!
Elphaba's words echoed in Glinda's mind. Now that her sister was dead, Glinda was sure Elphaba had lost. Willing accepting her Wicked persona so she could gain back the one piece of her sister she had left. Those shoes. The shoes Glinda had sent away with that little girl. The girl whom Elphaba had now kidnapped.
Wicked. Though Glinda hated to admit it she knew she was responsible for it all. She had told Morrible and the Wizard to use Nessarose. And now a tornado had taken her away. An ironic coincidence. Elphaba had gone to that cornfield to pay her respects, just like Glinda had known she would and she had been captured. And Fiyero had come to her rescue and now he was captured and surely dead. All because Glinda had opened her mouth. And poor Dorothy, the innocent girl, horribly thrown into their personal war, was now kidnapped because she was wearing shoes Glinda had given her. If she had only thought for one moment; to not speak Nessa's name, to not give Dorothy those shoes, to have not been consumed with anger and hate. It would all be different.
Wicked. So this was what it felt like. To use her own standing for personal gain. A gain that had brought death and destruction. And it made her all the more Wicked, for when the sun rose, to the people of Oz she would be Glinda the Good. Forced to save the day, a day that she had created.
No. NO.
Glinda struggled and pushed herself up, weakly; her arms threatening to give out from underneath her.
She was not wicked. She couldn't be. Good was in her name. And good she would be. There was still a chance, there was still time. She could fix this all, though it would never repair the damage. She had to get to Elphaba. She had to explain. She had to make it right. She had to make it good. Perhaps Elphaba would never forgive her. But her conscience would be cleared and she would go on as Glinda the Good, knowing she had done the best she could to fix things and knowing that she was still needed.
Glinda pushed herself to her feet, using her bed as leverage. After gaining her balance and making sure she wouldn't fall, Glinda slowly walked towards her grand terrace, ready to bubble her way to the western most tower of Kiamo Ko. She was certain she looked a mess from her crying and dry heaves, but that didn't matter. Elphaba wouldn't care.
The night air engulfed her, wrapping her in a warm embrace, though she felt nothing but cold. The night buzzed and Glinda froze. This was not the night's usual buzz of bugs and Ozian night life. A march sounded, voices yelled, and fire blazed. Glinda ran to the edge of her balcony, in the distance she could see a mass of people. No, a mob. Making their way towards the palace. Her blood ran cold. The mobs words were jumbled as they all yelled, but their message was clear as few words reached Glinda's ears.
Wicked. Death. Witch.
"For Oz's sake," Glinda muttered, turning back to her room. She marched to her vanity and cleaned herself up; for when one was about to make a public appearance, one had to look their public, goodliest best.
"You can do all I couldn't do." Elphaba said with a sad smile.
No, Glinda thought. You've done all I've never been able to. You did the right thing. I did the wrong.
"Now it's up to you…for the both of us."
No, Glinda thought. It can be up to you. It has to be. My fault. It's all my fault. You're the only one who can fix it.
The words buzzed in Glinda's head, going round and round. She had to open her mouth. She had to explain, before Elphaba went off the handle again and did something else drastic. She could see the look. Elphaba was thinking, planning how their lives would play out next. The truth sat on the tip of her tongue as fear of Elphaba's reaction gripped her body.
And yet, before she could open her mouth, Elphaba opened hers.
"You're the only friend I've ever had."
The words broke Glinda's resolve. She didn't know what would happen next but she couldn't allow the truth of what she had done ruin anything. Not when there was finally a moment of peace between them. So instead she opened her mouth and spoke the words Elphaba wanted and needed to hear. Words that would be the truest Glinda had ever and would ever speak.
"I've had so many friends," she said, her voice wavering. She heard Elphaba give a small laugh. Slowly she rose her head, looking into Elphaba's eyes. "But only one that mattered."
The two friends stood across from one another sharing a final moment of friendship, both knowing this was their last goodbye.
As Glinda the Good flew above Oz in her bubble, she thought. She thought of how she was responsible for Nessa's death. How that had brought Dorothy. How she had given Dorothy the shoes. How Elphaba had come out of hiding. How Fiyero had come to the rescue. How Fiyero was dead. How Elphaba had taken Dorothy for the shoes. How Elphaba was now dead.
She sobbed.
All events tumbled from one to another and it all tumbled back to her.
Morrible and the Wizard were taken care of; Morrible locked away and the Wizard preparing to leave. The Wizard. Elphaba's father. She felt sick.
Glinda clutched the Grimmerie to her chest as her emotions intensified and she lost focus on her magic. The bubble wavered and she quickly refocused, keeping herself afloat.
Below her, celebrations spread through Oz.
"LOOK!" a voice from below yelled. "It's Glinda!"
Screams of rejoice sounded.
Glinda sighed. She thought she had been flying high enough amongst the clouds to not be discovered. She thought wrong. Quickly, Glinda said a chant, sending the Grimmerie she held in her arms to a safe place in her room in the palace. With another chant her wand appeared in her hands. She quickly praised herself for using magic without the wand. Elphie would be proud.
Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground and plastered a smile on her face. She landed on a nearby platform.
"Oh it's good to see me, isn't it?" She asked, materializing out of her bubble in front of the crowd. They cheered. "Oh no need to respond, that was rhetorical," she said before laughing. The crowd around her laughed and hooted, praising their ever wonderful Glinda the Good for her sense of humor.
"My fellow Ozians," Glinda said, walking to the edge of the platform. The people around her immediately quieted. "Let us be glad and grateful that on this night good has prevailed!" Bile rose in her throat.
The crowed erupted in applause cheers. As they quieted a voice spoke above the rest.
"Glinda! Exactly how dead is she?"
Glinda felt herself blanch. Far to dead to ever be brought back, she thought. "Because there has been so much rumor and speculation, innuendo...outuendo, let me set the record straight," She spoke instead. "According to the Time Dragon Clock the melting occurred at the thirteenth hour, the direct result of a bucket of water thrown by a female child. Yes, the Wicked Witch of the West is dead!"
Cheers erupted once more and Glinda felt like screaming. This was not right. This was not what Elphaba deserved. She deserved a mass mourning, people from all of Oz coming to her funeral to mourn the loss of a great person. A person who had risked her life to do the right thing, when no one around her would step up and do it.
Glinda's mind wandered back a few years. Slowly she began to remember the feel of blood rushing to her head as she lay on her bed, head hanging off the edge, as she read a book about a preacher's teaching on wickedness and it's relation to Kumbricia. According to that preacher, the Kumbric Witch was wicked because he said she was. And everyone believed it. Elphaba, poor sweet, innocent Elphaba, had been branded wicked by the Wizard and Morrible. And because they said she was, Oz believed it. They had never taken the time to look deeper than what they had been told. Never took the time to realize that Elphaba was the person doing the real good; while the Wizard and Morrible and even herself had been doing wrong.
The truth would only get a person from point A to point B. But Glinda quickly realized that a lie would get you all the way to Z, without as much as a blink.
"Glinda?" A small voice spoke from below. Glinda looked to see a small girl with auburn hair step forward. "How does wickedness happen?"
Shouldn't you be in bed? Glinda wanted to ask. The little dear could be no older than seven. "That's a good question," she said instead, walking to the stairs of the platform and walking down to the crowd. The people closest to her bowed in respect and praise while others reached forwards slightly, hoping for the Good Witch to touch their hand. Glinda obliged a few, watching as they bowed their heads. She wondered if this would have happened for Elphaba, had her fate turned out differently.
Slowly, Glinda walked to the little girl until she was kneeling before her. The girl blushed and looked down, fidgeting slightly. Glinda smiled a true genuine smile and touched the little girl's chin, lifting her head until she could see her eyes. Glinda stared into the dark brown eyes before her, entranced. The shade, their shape, for a brief fleeting moment she felt as if she had been looking into Elphaba's eyes once again.
What to say, she thought. The girl looked at her with strong curiosity and wonder, making Glinda realize that perhaps not everyone in Oz thought Elphie to be wicked. For many, like this small child, where above all else, curious; curious as to how this woman had become who she was. Curious as to why wickedness happened, how one person could become so wicked.
What to say, she thought, remembering her own personal curiosity years ago. Elphaba would know what to say. How to address such a complex question, one a seven year old was sure to not understand. One that Glinda herself didn't fully understand. What would Elphaba say? And yet, Glinda knew she had already spoken the words.
These people of Oz had thought Elphaba to be wicked. Though she had done all she could to change their land for the better. If they hadn't listened to her before, they would listen to her now, through Glinda. Glinda would make things right.
That night, the good Elphaba had died, leaving her wicked persona behind. But Glinda knew that she could do her best to allow these people learn what Elphaba had tried to do. She would keep the good of Elphaba alive by doing it for her. She would not be able to mourn her friend in public. So she would silently tribute her friend and no one would know she was doing it.
"A question," Glinda finally spoke again. "That many people find confusifying," she said, winking at the small girl before her. The child smiled, revealing a toothless grin. "Are people born wicked? Or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?" She said, speaking Elphaba's words from years before.
Yes, Elphaba would live on, Glinda would see to that. For good was in her name and as long as she remained Glinda the Good she would go on doing it.
Glinda would ensure that the wickedest woman Oz had ever known would live on and her thoughts and ideals, her spirit and soul would effect Oz; changing it for the better. Though this time, the thoughts and ideals, spirit and soul would be good…and the wickedness would cease.
Author's Note: Well there you have it! It turned out a bit differently than what I had thought, but I like it none-the-less and enjoyed writing it. And I hope you enjoyed reading it!
Let me know what you think!
Thanks for reading!
The Lonely Goatherd