The Wizard
There once was a great and powerful wizard who ruled over all the land. It was said his eyes could pierce for miles and there was nothing he did not know. The people of the land traveled to the wizard, asking him for gifts, although only when there was a great need, for the wizard was quick to anger and slow to forgive.
The wizard lived alone. His house looked as if no one lived there at all. Covering his window was a thick, heavy curtain that always stayed closed, no matter if it was day or night, hot or cold. And in air that never moved, alone with his machines, the wizard sat behind his curtain. Warily watching the outside world.
But he never felt at home.
Throughout the long years the wizard watched many people come and go. Some he saw only from a distance, traveling down dusty roads he had never trod upon. When that happened the wizard stayed awake long into the night, staring blankly into the dark. Some he saw all too close, as they came and pestered him for so many things. The wizard often became fed up with it all, and refused to answer even the most heartfelt entreaties. Most travelers soon learned to avoid the dusty house and the dark curtain.
But as the years passed and the travelers came and went, a few kept coming back. Coming back again and again until the wizard couldn't help but notice them.
There was the Scarecrow, with his lack of a brain. Straw sticking everywhere, tattered clothing, bumbling, fumbling, yet somehow always managing to land on his feet. His mouth running constantly to make up for his lack of brains. Trying so hard to be likeable, to be loved, a painted smile forever on his face.
The wizard wondered what would happen if he were to wash away the paint.
There was the Lion. No king of the jungle, he. Cowering at his own shadow, flinching away in fear, shoulders hunched and stuttering over words. Always trying to be bigger, better, something he wasn't. But never running away…
The wizard wondered what would happen if he stopped listening to the whispers of those around him and started listening to himself.
There was the Tin Man. A metallic creation, forged in heat and pressure. Burned until there was nothing left but steel. No heart, no feelings, no emotions. No hopes and dreams. No! Such things in metal led to imperfections, and cracks, and dull surfaces. No such things could be allowed behind the shiny shell.
The wizard wondered what would happen if she realized that sometimes, feelings forged bonds stronger than steel.
There was Dorothy. Who wanted nothing more than to go home. Always different, always denied, using layer after layer to hide her own soul. Flitting from place to place, never stopping, never staying, never finding anyone who would unlock the layers.
The wizard wondered what would happen if she found someone who held the key.
And so the wizard watched them from within his dusty shell. Watched them live and grow and fail and learn and love and lose. At times, the wizard had the strangest feeling that their eyes could penetrate his curtain. When that happened, he drew away, and lost himself in his machines for a while, and promised himself that this time, yes, this time he would stop watching.
But he couldn't stay away.
And despite himself, watching these travelers, the wizard was swept up, and in, and forgot to watch the one place where it was most desperately needed...
The path to the curtain.
The door slammed, bumping dust off long-unused shelves. Shaken, the wizard looked up. And there, in the middle of the floor only his feet had touched for so many years, stood the travelers.
The Scarecrow. The Lion. The Tin Man. Dorothy.
And they swept his curtain aside.
The wizard stood helplessly, looking weak and frail. No longer did he look like the person whose eyes could pierce for miles. In the light from the uncovered curtain all was exposed.
He was just a man. And he had no gifts to give. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain…
No heart. His was broken long, long ago, and he'd never been able to pick up all the pieces. No brains. Just stupid stubbornness and tired determination. No courage. He had nothing left to fear since he'd lost everything he cared about. Lost his family. Lost his honor. Lost his life.
Lost his home.
The wizard stood in the growing silence and found his head too heavy to lift up. Couldn't make himself meet the gaze of the people who had placed so much of their hope, so much of their trust in him. He had failed them.
Failed them all.
When the silence grew too much to bear the wizard spoke, his voice raspy and soft from lack of use.
"I'm sorry."
Then he turned his back on the travelers and prepared to leave.
But what the wizard had forgotten is sometimes, curtains don't just keep people from seeing in; sometimes they keep you from seeing out.
Four hands reached as one and stopped him from moving. The wizard looked up.
"Don't go," said the Scarecrow, a real smile on his face, "You gave me a brain, showed me how to think, made me who I am today."
"Don't go," said the Lion, standing easily, proudly, "You gave me courage, showed me how to stand up for myself, made me have the confidence to be me."
"Don't go," said the Tin Man, love easily visible on her face, "You gave me a heart, showed me what loyalty means, made me someone who can finally trust."
There was a brief pause. Then Dorothy stepped forward and gave the wizard a bone-crushing hug.
"Don't go," she said, stepping back slightly to look him in the eyes, "You gave me a home."
And standing there, looking at his Scarecrow, and his Lion, and his Tin Man, and his Dorothy, the wizard's throat clenched.
And he realized he was home.
He had been home all along.