Nothing like a wedding to pull the world together, huh?
2/7ths of the world's population was watching them...what pressure! I don't think I could do it...
Dorothy knelt down after her friends and the guards had dispersed. The Wicked Witch's clothes were crumpled over an oozing green liquid than almost made her vomit. Wicked as she may be, this Witch had still be a person and she had murdered her.
The girl fingered the cloak absentmindedly, trying to comprehend what she had just done. Her finger tapped on something hard and she jumped. Inside the cloak was an almost invisible pocket.
Carefully, Dorothy reached in and pulled out an assortment of objects from it. They were all odd and seemed more like garbage than something to be kept in secret hiding. She laid them on the table, sorting and examining each in silent fascination.
There was a bright red, dried poppy that lay in its innocent delicacy, looking several years old but well-preserved. It reminded her of the bewitched poppy fields outside the Emerald City. Why would the Witch keep something like that?
The next item to come out was a crumpled-up letter addressed to an 'Elphaba' from a 'Galinda' about the sender's new dress. Next to it was another letter also addressed to 'Elphaba', but from a 'Fiyero', who thank her for helping on homework.
There was also a few golden buttons, a curly lock of blond hair and a straight one of brown, and several other knick-knacks and old parchments of school reports and letters, including what looked like one from the Wizard.
There was footsteps at the door and Dorothy quickly spun around. Scarecrow was standing in the room watching her curiously.
"What have you got there, Dorothy?" he asked.
"Oh...just some stuff I found in the Witch's cloak." she shrugged. "Nothing special."
"The Witch's, huh? Let me see..."
He approached the desk and began to finger the items. The gold button and brown hair made him stop for a moment, mouth twitching oddly with an unreadable expression.
"What's the matter, Scarecrow?"
"Oh nothing, just...remembering..." He picked up the letters and read them with something like sorrow on his face.
"Scarecrow?"
"Hm?"
"What do you think she was really like, the Witch? What do you think all this stuff meant to her?"
The Scarecrow turned towards the window, staring at the golden setting sun.
"We'll never know, will we Dorothy? No one mourns the Wicked..."
OK, this really was going to be a drabble, but 400 words later...I decided to post in independant. Hope you all enjoyed!
