HAPPENSTANCE
I hail from a family of big, big (and I'm talking BIG) "Wizard of Oz" nuts. That movie made up a significant part of my childhood. I can't remember a single year in which we didn't watch the movie at least once on TV, and my parents would videotape it over and over again. Now, we own the DVD, and so we can watch it whenever we like, without commercials. The last time I saw the movie, I got to thinking: "Hmm, maybe I should try my hand at a Wizard-of-Oz-themed story." I decided it was worth a shot. We all know, of course, that Dorothy gets hurt when the twister hits, and that she wakes up in her own bed toward the end. Well, I wondered what it was like when her family actually found her. I wondered how they may have reacted. That definitely got the wheels in my head turning!
Some of the characters' lines contained in here were borrowed from the original script, including lines that were ultimately cut out.
Review when you're through, and take it easy on me, would you please? I'm only human, after all.
Characters © L. Frank Baum and Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Inc.
Story © unicorn-skydancer08
All rights reserved.
A nasty windstorm was afoot. Powerful, sweeping gales whooshed across the flat gray plains of Kansas, swift as a bullet from a gun, strong enough to knock a grown man off his feet. At the Gale farmstead, pandemonium was raging like the raging air currents. While the other animals scurried about, seeking shelter, Henry Gale bellowed to two of his farm hands, Hunk and Zeke, "Hurry up, help me get them horses loose!" While the two men promptly rushed in to help, Henry realized Hickory, his third hand, wasn't among them.
"Where's Hickory?" the old farmer demanded. "Hickory! Hickory!"
There was no answer.
"Doggone it! Hick—"
"Right here!" Hickory's voice sounded right then, only barely audible over the wildly howling winds.
Henry found the younger man a short distance away, next to a strange contraption—a "wind machine", Hickory called it, having invented it himself.
"Hey, what are you doing there, Hick?" Henry hollered.
"This is my chance!" Hickory called back triumphantly, giving his invention a proud pat. "Let me show you what my machine can do! You see, it goes—"
"Never mind with that dang-blasted mechanism!" Henry cut him off sharply. "Help Hunk get them horses loose!"
Reluctantly, Hickory agreed. "All right…but you'll be sorry!"
"Go on, hurry up! Hurry up, I tell you!"
The wind continued to grow stronger, were such a thing possible, as they all worked fervently together. Right as they were giving release to the last horse, Zeke, from the corner of his eye, could spot something. Turning his head slightly, he could make out, through the mass of blowing dust and flying tumbleweeds, a dark funnel shape in the distance. It looked quite small, from this spot, but given the distance, Zeke could tell it was enormous. Zeke's eyes bulged at the sight, and he instantly felt the color drain from his face, like water from a spigot.
This could only mean one thing.
"It's a twister!" Zeke cried to the others. "It's a twister!"
When the other men looked to where he was pointing and saw the funnel shape for themselves, Hickory exclaimed in utmost dismay, "Oh, no!"
"Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!" added Hunk.
A twister was possibly the most dangerous threat to Kansas. It sucked up everything in its path, and left nothing in its wake. Those who managed to get themselves caught in one were lucky to get out alive. What was worse, as there were no mountains or hills, there was nothing to stop the whirlwind, or impede it. And it looked like this one here was going to be a real whopper.
"Let's go!" said Henry, in his most authoritative tone. "We gotta take cover!"
Keeping their heads down to avoid getting dust in their eyes, trying vainly to hold their hats in place, they struggled to make their way through the crushing winds, one after the other.
Meanwhile, Henry's wife, Em, a kindly but careworn woman, had just stepped outside, with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. "Dorothy!" she called fervently into the squall, for her young niece who had apparently gone missing. "Dorothy!" There was no answer, and her little Dorothy was nowhere to be seen.
When the men reached the house, Henry ushered his wife along with them, saying, "Come on, everybody in the storm cellar!"
"Henry! Henry—I can't find Dorothy!" Em wailed. "She's somewhere out in the storm!"
But there was no time to look for the girl. The twister was drawing closer, and it quickly became clear that it would hit their farm directly within minutes.
"In the storm cellar!" Henry repeated.
"Dorothy!" Em shrieked to high heaven again. "Dorothy!" She fought to get away from her husband, but he held her fast.
"There's no time!" Henry said. "We must get below!" He was compelled to shout at the top of his lungs, just to make himself heard; even then, however, his voice was scarcely capable of being heard. The gale was so strong it stole their breath away, and both Hickory and Hunk ended up losing their hats as they struggled to pry open the cellar behind the house. Em knew perfectly well it was nothing short of suicidal to be out in a storm like this. Nevertheless, she continued to fight her husband desperately, and he had to push her more forcefully to the doors.
One by one, they climbed down into the underground vault, until they were all safely inside. With some effort, the doors were pulled firmly shut, and Hunk bolted them securely into place.
Exhausted and breathless, both Hickory and Zeke collapsed at the same time onto thin mattresses, and Hunk dropped like a stone between them, while Henry helped Em settle down into another corner. Hunk leaned forward and put his head in his hands, while Hickory did the same, and Zeke took out his handkerchief and mopped his sweaty face.
Even now, from where they were, they could hear the terrible roar of the twister above as it descended upon them.
It seemed like the end of the world—that everything would end in a screaming whirl of wind.
"Dorothy," Em moaned in despair. "Oh, Dorothy…Dorothy…" The older woman buried her face in her hands, and sobbed quiet, bitter sobs.
Henry now gathered his wife more gently into his arms and held her in a long, comforting embrace, though he said nothing, his countenance sorrowful and troubled.
Zeke, Hunk, and Hickory all felt their hearts sink as well as they thought of poor Dorothy.
Where could the girl have gone? Was she all right? Would she be all right? Could she survive the storm? Unpleasant images flashed repeatedly before the men's eyes: images of a tree falling on top of her, the sharp, driving gravel flaying the skin off her face, the twister itself picking her up and carrying her off to heaven knew where.
"Oh, the poor kid," Zeke groaned aloud. "The poor, poor kid."
Hickory even began to cry a little himself, his hands covering his own face.
Hunk remained perfectly still and silent, but he felt his heart wrench as he thought back to the last time he had seen Dorothy…and how he had treated her.
Here, the entire group had plenty of time to think back on everything that had happened. They'd all treated Dorothy like a recluse lately, like an afterthought instead of a member of the household. They were too busy with their daily tasks to really notice her, to truly appreciate her. Whenever she came to them with a problem, they all but brushed her off. Just that day, in fact, she sought earnestly for help with Miss Gulch, the ill-tempered lady who lived down the road. But everyone was too occupied with their responsibilities around the farm. Zeke recalled regretfully how Dorothy came to him first, after failing to secure the attention of her aunt and uncle:
"Zeke, what am I going to do about Miss Gulch? Just because Toto chases her old cat—"
"Listen, honey, I got them hogs to get in."
Then Hunk stepped into the scene, but he certainly wasn't much of a help:
"Now, lookit, Dorothy—you ain't using your head about Miss Gulch. Think you didn't have any brains at all!"
"I have so got brains!"
"Well, why don't you use them? When you come home, don't go by Miss Gulch's place. Then Toto won't get in her garden, and you won't get in no trouble. See?"
"Oh, Hunk, you just won't listen, that's all."
"Well, your head ain't made of straw, you know!"
Hunk couldn't believe he'd had the nerve to say that to Dorothy's face. After a row like that, it would be a miracle if she spoke to him again, let alone came within three feet of him again.
Hickory harbored a load of guilt of his very own. He hadn't paid the least bit of interest in Dorothy's problem, but instead bragged about his latest invention. "The best invention I ever invented! It's to break up winds, so we don't have no more dust storms. Can you imagine what it'll mean to this section of the country?"
He'd even boasted to Em, "Someday, they're going to erect a statue to me in this town, and—"
"Well, don't start posing for it now," Em had cut in, which immediately shut him up.
Hickory felt incredibly stupid. What did a mere machine matter? He could invent anything, any old time. But he didn't make any time for Dorothy, of whom there was only one.
As for Em, she thought of how her young niece had tried one more time to appeal to her, yet even she wouldn't listen.
"Auntie Em, really, do you know what Miss Gulch said she was going to do to Toto? She said she was going to—"
"Now, Dorothy, dear, stop imagining things. You always get yourself into a fret over nothing. Now, you just help us out today and find yourself a place where you won't get into any trouble."
But it turned out Dorothy had been right about Miss Gulch, for not long afterward, their petulant neighbor dropped by their farm on her bicycle, unannounced. She seemed in quite a foul mood, indeed; from the moment she dismounted and set foot onto the property, she had demanded to see both Henry and Em immediately. Em remembered clearly sitting in the parlor with her and Henry and Dorothy, and the words that were exchanged between them kept resounding in her head, like the peal of a bell:
"That dog's a menace to the community. I'm taking him to the sheriff, and make sure he's destroyed."
Sweet little Toto meant more to Dorothy than anything; naturally, this was most upsetting news for her. "Oh, you can't—you mustn't!" the girl pleaded. "Auntie Em, Uncle Henry, you won't let her, will you? Oh, please, Auntie Em, Toto didn't mean to; he didn't know he was doing anything wrong. I'm the one that ought to be punished! I let him go in her garden."
But Miss Gulch, who was as stubborn as she was crotchety, was the sort of person who always got her way, one way or another.
"If you don't hand over that dog, I'll bring a damage suit that'll take your whole farm! There's a law protecting folks against dogs that bite!" Then, to add insult to injury, she brandished a paper from the sheriff and thrust it at Em to read. "Here's his order, allowing me to take him. Unless you want to go against the law."
Em read the paper over several times, then offered it to Henry to read for himself, but there was no question about it. The document was both legal, and binding.
"No…no, we can't go against the law, Dorothy. I'm afraid poor Toto will have to go."
Dorothy tried to resist at first, but in the end was forced to give up her beloved pet. Heartbroken, she fled to her room in tears, and slammed the door.
And so Miss Gulch took Toto away—but not before Em had given the shrew a final piece of her mind: "Elmira Gulch, just because you own half the county doesn't mean you have the power to run the rest of us! For twenty-three years, I've been dying to tell you what I thought of you! And now…well, being a Christian woman, I can't say it!"
That was the last anyone had seen of Dorothy. When Em attempted to check on her niece later, to see whether she was all right, she was surprised to discover Dorothy was gone.
Her suitcase was missing as well, along with a fair number of her clothes and prized possessions.
Now that Em thought of it, considering what had taken place, it would be no surprise if Dorothy really had run away.
What would they do, now? If anything happened to Dorothy, Em would never forgive herself. None of them would ever forgive themselves. If only they could go back, and change some things…
They'd gladly give anything, everything they had in the world, just to have Dorothy here with them, safe and sound.
After what must have been an eternity, the shrieking winds at last died down, until there was complete, ill-omened silence.
Henry sent Hunk out, to check and see whether it was safe. A few minutes later, Hunk came back and gave the signal that they could come out into the open again.
When they set foot out of the cellar, and surveyed the area, Hickory clapped a hand to his face and gasped, "Oh, no! Oh, no—I don't believe it!"
"Holy hispid hares, look at that!" said Zeke, equally thunderstruck.
All around them, as far as they could see, everything was destroyed, essentially knocked flat.
Good-sized trees had been ripped up from the ground by the roots, their broken branches scattered haphazardly about. The picket fence surrounding the farm was reduced to a mere pile of splinters. They looked toward the barn to find that most of the structure wasn't even there anymore—nothing but a mountain of smashed wood and tiles. The land itself seemed changed, every last trace of dust scoured away. Mercifully, the house was still there, but there was a good deal of damage about it. A fair number of shingles were missing from the roof, nearly all the windows were busted open, and the front door had been torn right off its hinges. Some of the timbers from the sides of the house had been stripped away, as well.
They dared to enter the house, for further investigation. The inside proved to be just as bad as the outside, if not worse. There was a lot of dirt and debris on the floor, as a result of the broken windows. In the kitchen, many dishes were smashed into bits; in the parlor, the furniture was all topsy-turvy, and nearly every picture had fallen from the walls and shelves.
Hunk whistled through his teeth. "Hoo, boy," he muttered, "this ain't good at all."
Hickory carefully moved around a certain way to avoid stepping on a large piece of a broken vase.
Em made everyone separate and go off in different directions, to try to look for Dorothy. Even Henry took part in the earnest search.
"Dorothy!" Em called anxiously, when they could find no trace of the child. "Dorothy—where are you? It's me, Auntie Em! We're trying to find you! Where are you?"
There was no answer. At least a thousand disturbing scenarios raced repeatedly through everyone's minds, about where Dorothy might be, or what might have become of her. In their hearts, they all prayed fervently that they would find her, and that, somehow, she would be all right. Finally, just as they were on the verge of hysteria, Zeke stepped into Dorothy's room.
And, as if by magic, there she was!
She was lying in a peculiar position on her bed, her head tilted to one side, her eyes closed. A strange halo of dark red encircled her head, and it took Zeke a moment to realize the red was blood. Toto, miraculously unhurt, lay quietly at the girl's side. He pricked up his ears and raised his head when he noticed Zeke coming in, but he stayed put.
"Hunk!" Zeke didn't hesitate to holler. "Hickory—come here!"
Both were at the doorway within the blink of an eye.
Neither of them had to ask what was wrong; they got their answer straight off. Hickory gasped aloud at the sight, and Hunk made a swift beeline to the bed, shouting urgently, "Dorothy!"
Dorothy didn't stir. Hunk touched her hand, and she didn't do anything. "Dorothy?" he said, more tentatively.
She did not respond.
"Dorothy, are you all right?" Hickory asked fearfully, as he joined them.
Nothing happened. Dorothy just lay there, still as a doll, silent as death.
Hickory sat down on the edge of the mattress and very gently upheld Dorothy in his sturdy arms, while Hunk examined her carefully. Sure enough, there was a horrible, bloody lump at the back of her head. Then all three men became aware that the window to the room was missing, and that numerous shards of glass littered the floor. The pane lay in pieces.
The men realized the window must have struck Dorothy when it was blasted loose in the storm.
"Dorothy?" said Zeke softly. "Can you hear me, honey?"
She said nothing.
"She's not…she's not…" Hickory faltered, unable to give voice to the awful question.
"I don't think so," said Hunk, knowing what his companion was thinking. "I think she's only knocked out." Yet his face looked troubled.
Right at that moment, Em and Henry appeared. Em let out a sort of muffled scream at the sight of her niece cradled in Hickory's arms, unmoving and bleeding, and was there herself in two seconds. Henry made no sound at all, but his eyes were several times their size and his lined face was very white, even more so than his white hair.
Hunk and Zeke simultaneously moved to the side, and Toto hastily jumped to the floor (no one said a word about the dog being there), but Hickory remained right where he was.
"Dorothy!" said Em in a strangled voice, sinking down onto the bed alongside her. "Oh, Dorothy…Dorothy, my little darling…"
"She'll be all right, Mrs. Gale," said Hickory, sounding more hopeful than he actually felt.
"Hunk, fetch some cold water," Henry instructed. "Zeke, you go and get some clean rags, as many as you can find."
Neither had to be told twice, and they were both out of there and back in less time than it takes to say "mulberry".
For two long days, there was great sorrow and anxiety in the Gale household. It seemed there was a good chance that Dorothy might die. Em stayed right by her niece's side every minute, never once leaving her alone. Every now and again, the men stepped in to lend a hand or two, or just to see whether there was any improvement. The men all worked diligently to put the farm back together, mending the fences and rebuilding the farm, as well as patching up the house itself. It helped to keep busy, though the hard work did very little to alleviate their worry.
Hunk didn't even complain when he inadvertently struck his finger while nailing a loose board into place, and not a single word of bickering passed between him, Zeke, and Hickory. They just did their jobs quietly and peacefully, speaking only to ask for help with something, or for a fresh can of paint or another box of nails to be passed to them.
Finally, on the third day, while Hunk, Hickory, and Zeke were replacing the missing shingles on the roof, Henry came out to them and announced happily that Dorothy had at last woken up.
Thrilled at the news, their hearts suddenly lighter than they had been in days, the boys immediately deserted their task and rushed inside the house, just as fast as they could. They entered the room right as Henry was saying to another man who stood at the window, "She got quite a bump on the head. We kinda thought there, for a minute, she was gonna leave us."
Dorothy, who was indeed wide-awake, and looking quite well considering her ordeal, protested to her uncle, "But I did leave you, Uncle Henry; that's just the trouble! And I tried to get back for days and days—" She started to rise up from the bed, but Em gently pushed her back onto the pillow.
"There, there," Em soothed the little girl, "lie quiet, now. You just had a bad dream."
Then Dorothy noticed the others in the room.
Hunk reached her first, and he knelt down on the floor beside the bed. "Hey—remember me?" he asked Dorothy, a hopeful smile brightening his face. "Your old pal, Hunk?"
"And me, Hickory?" added Hickory, who'd settled onto his own knees next to Hunk.
Zeke, standing directly behind the two, said with a hint of dry humor, "You couldn't forget my face, could you?"
Dorothy smiled at them all, looking genuinely pleased to see them. Then her smile quickly faded.
"But it wasn't a dream," she said, "it was a place." Pointing to each of the men, including the man at the window, she went on, "And you—and you—and you—and you were there!"
"Oh-oh!" chortled their visitor, while the other three just laughed.
They couldn't help themselves. It wasn't cruel laughter, in the slightest. They were just so happy and so relieved that Dorothy was all right; if they didn't laugh, they may as well weep.
"But you couldn't have been, could you?" said Dorothy, now putting a hand to her forehead, looking disoriented.
When Em came back, having left the room briefly for something, Hickory and Hunk jumped to their feet and backed away.
Resuming her seat on the edge of the bed, Em told her niece, "Oh, we dream lots of silly things when we—"
"No, Aunt Em," Dorothy interjected, "this was a real, truly live place." A reminiscent gleam came to her eye. "I remember that some of it wasn't very nice," she mused, "but most of it was beautiful. But just the same, all I kept saying to everybody was, 'I want to go home.' And they sent me home!" When they just laughed again, she asked, "Doesn't anybody believe me?"
"Of course, we believe you, Dorothy," Henry said mildly, as Toto leaped up onto the bed, and Dorothy gathered her little dog into her arms.
Hunk, Hickory, and Zeke, standing by alongside one another, merely smiled.
Whether what Dorothy had just been through was a dream or not, they thought, the only thing they cared about was that she was here, with them.
They were all together, safe and well—and that was what truly mattered.