Note: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz does not belong to me. It belongs to the estate of L. Frank Baum, etc. So, don't sue me. Enjoy!
The dull Kansas sky turned an even duller shade of murky gray. We could hear the wind howling from afar.
Twister.
I could hear the windowpanes rattling in the midst of the uproar. I hated Kansas, hated the twisters that wreaked havoc upon our small farm on the prairie. Maybe the cyclone would destroy the house. Maybe it would be decimated, turned into a pile of dust, and Grandpa would finally decide that it was time to move on. After thousands of storms like this one, it was a wonder that he hadn't given up.
Especially after the one Mama told me about.
It was a trip beyond the clouds that transported the farmhouse to another world so fabulous and so amazing that no one believed her, except for me. She would put me to sleep with her stories of a dancing scarecrow, a man made entirely of tin, a talking lion, and a wicked witch. Her stories were like nothing else I had ever heard or read about. I wanted to go, wanted to fly over the rainbow to my mother's mystical world. She said that, one day, she would take me there.
But that day never came.
She talked often of her fantasy world (which she said was called Oz) to Granny's friends who came over. Naturally, they thought her mad.
Come with us
Where?
For a ride.
Aunt Em? Where are they taking me?
Just go honey
Mama was dragged off to the county institution, a few miles down the road. It wasn't her choice; but even Granny didn't say anything. The din of the neighbors' gossip had grown too loud for her to handle. Granny didn't care about Mama, she never did. There was an absence of a caring spirit in the house when Mama left, as if the grey plains had sucked the life and joy from the house and all who lived in it.
A letter came from the institution last year.
What does it say?
She's dead; that's what she deserves
How
Drivin' herself crazy, with all them stupid lies she tells
Over the howl of the wind, I could faintly pick out Granny's voice.
"Jonathan?"
I threw open the window and called out in vain, "In the house!"
The black funnel was ever so close. It came nearer, closer to the house. I could now hear nothing, not even the screams of Granny Em. But I could see her.
Enormous clouds of dust stirred. She looked up, and saw the black mass, glaring right at her. She screamed, a long scream, which sounded oddly like,
"Dorrthhhheeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"
The storm claimed her.
I saw no more, only felt and heard. Heard the ripping of the wood, the pleading cries of the livestock, felt the frail house quivering in the midst of the turmoil, and felt the house rise from the ground and into the air.
Only then did I feel and hear nothing.
Just darkness.