I shrank towards the wall of the house. From there, I saw a tall man, made entirely out of tin, emerge from the bushes. His head, arms, and legs were entirely jointed upon his body. He sported a large axe with a handle that was encrusted with many diamonds. He glanced around the village, yawned, and turned his head towards the farmhouse. Gasping, he took a step back. He stood there for quite a while, gaping at the decrepit farmhouse.
I was so scared I could hardly breathe. I remembered the frozen look of terror on the little peoples' faces. As much as I tried not to think about it, I couldn't prevent the ghastly image from popping into my head. Just then, I remembered the stories Mama told me. About a dancing scarecrow, a cowardly lion, and a man made entirely out of tin...
No, it couldn't be...
Oh God.
I'm in Oz.
It all makes sense now. The little people (Munchkins, I think she called them), this 'tin man' (What was his name? Nick Chopper?)......
I relaxed a little. If the tin man knew Mama, then surely he must be friendly. Slowly, I stood up and began to proceed towards him. He saw me coming. He cast a wary eye upon me and said in a cautious tone, "Be you friend or foe?"
"You knew my mother."
A deep silence fell over us. He sighed, a sigh of despair and agony.
"Aye, I knew her." He sighed again. "She was a pretty lass."
I studied the ground, afraid to say anything. He did likewise. Finally, I dared to speak, dared to utter the awful truth.
"Er...ahh...she's...ah...dead."
He looked up, startled. He didn't move for what seemed like the longest time. Then he sank to the ground with a clank and began to weep.
He sobbed and sobbed, mourning the pretty lass that was my mother. All of a sudden he ceased to move, as if he was frozen. Oh crap, I thought. I killed him. But then, a groan reached my ears. The groan seemed to be coming from the Tin Man. I moved closer to him. The groan turned into the words 'Oil can'; his words were barely audible.
I remembered Mama telling me about her first meeting with Nick Chopper; how she and the scarecrow found him standing in a clearing with his axe uplifted and how he moaned for his oil can.
I dashed inside the house to find the oil can that Grandpa kept in the hall closet. I pried the closet door open and grabbed the can. I hurried outside and began to oil the Tin Man's joints. Slowly, he came to life. He flexed his arms and legs, making sure they functioned properly.
"A little more here," he instructed, pointing to his left knee. I did as I was told. He stood up, slowly but surely, once again stretching his limbs. He sighed once more, but this was a sigh of relief. "I apologize. When I get wet or cry, I rust," he said.
"Yes, I know." There was silence. I swore I could hear birds chirping off in the distance. I looked over at the bloody scene in the village. "What happened there?" I pointed towards the dead Munchkins.
"It is a rather lengthy story," he replied. "Sit down and I will tell you."