A Wicked Life
The stupid, selfish, greedy, priggish little snot! She was actually dying. Cast off from this mortal plain by a child. A brat child! Dorothy had looked at her with a strange mix of wonder, horror, and much to Morella's disgust, pity. "You've killed me," the witch wailed. "Here I go now, take the castle and the Winkies, you foul little demon!" Morella had no time for final contemplation or even fear as the deepest darkness overtook her soul.
When her lone eye opened again, she found herself standing nowhere and supported on nothing. It was the most nothing of any something that had never been. The only thing to see was the dark figure standing before her. Reflexively she tried to throw an enchantment at the robed figure, but nothing happened. No movement of power, no fizzle in the fingers. Nada. The figure waggled one bony finger three times, precisely. Something about that gesture carried palpable authority. In fact, this was the final authority, after one had passed beyond the rainbow. This was Death.
"ALL THAT YOU ARE HAS COME TO THE END" Death said impassively. If Morella had possessed moisture in her anatomy she would have cried. Not for sadness or fear, but for the emotional vacuum before her. An absolute void of Id. No hope or despair. No fear nor comfort. Just the shattering emptiness. The witch felt her own boisterous ego welling up to fill the space.
"So, what now? Are you here to deliver me my final judgement? Are you to wash me away as that brat washed away my gooey remains? I was an Emperess! I deserve a proper funeral! And a burial monument! A year long period of mourning from those wretched Winkies whom I dragged into a state of civilization!" If she had been bound to the rules of life, she may have been winded by that. Instead, she just felt the pressure of nothingness squeezing from every corner of eternity. Death was as silent as one may imagine. "Is this it? I have to stare at you for the ever and the ever? ANSWER ME SPECTRE!" This time she did feel tightness in her throat, though that was purely in her imagination.
"I HAVE NOT BEEN SENT FOR JUDGEMENT. I AM YOUR GUIDE. YOUR FELLOW SOUJURNER. WITH YOUR PARTING ALLOW ME TO LEAD YOU TO YOUR LASTING REWARD" With that a swirling blackness began to encircle the witch from above and from below, hungry claws of shadow eager to steal away her what remain sight she possessed. The one thing in all of the world that she feared almost as much as water, was darkness. Spending any amount of time in a completely lightless life was immediately intolerable to Morella.
"N-n-n-now-now wait a moment!" The witch threw out both hands at her sides, as if to push back the darkness. "There is a mistake! This is surely not my reward. I would insist you reconsider the fairness of the situation, as this is surely an inaccuracy of the life records."
"An error" Death paused the shadows. It was not a question; it was not a hesitation. It was not a challenge or an offended halt. It was as though Death had simply never considered the possibility or even the existence of mistakes happening. "MAKE THIS ERROR KNOWN"
"Ah, well." The witch fidgeted. "It would be hard to say. I just died, I'm in a state of distress. I can't recollect every moment where life has fouled me. But return me from this nightmare. I have no doubt learned my lesson from this experience."
"NO LESSON WAS OFFERED. NO LESSON CAN BE RECEIVED. SHOW ME THE ERROR"
Before the witch could muster a reply, the world came back into being, with shocking brightness, but absolutely mute of sound. The scene before she and Death was playing slowly in reverse order. A brown sludgy mess flowed into the kitchen, chasing Dorothy and a broom as she stepped backwards before the puddle began to rise from the floor, slowly resuming a Winkie-witch shape. Morella cringed as the water flew past her and back into the bucket.
Watching the scene play out in the third person was remarkably depressing and frustrating at the same time. To think she had been assaulted in her own castle, reduced to a state not dissimilar to a pig pen mess, by a six-year-old child still suffering from Emerald City eyestrain (she had overheard the girl talking to the lion about her 'greenish skin color' a ridiculous notion) and here she had to rewatch it from a fresh perspective.
"You brat! You demon outlander! I'll kill you here and deal with the damnable Glinda's blessing later!" The witch shrieked and tried very enthusiastically to strangle poor Dorothy. Fortunately, the witch was less than a shadow, and had no sway over the heroic child. "Blast it blast it and blast it again!"
"ALL THAT YOU ARE HAS COME TO THE END" Death reminded her, in the exact same pitch and tone. Or lack thereof, as he didn't seem to speak in the traditional sense.
"Just... keep watching." Morella hissed lamely. "You'll see how wrong I've been done."
The scene continued to rewind, showing Morella bullying and terrifying Dorothy, starving and taunting the Lion. Beating her frightened slaves. Destroying the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow. Sending wave after wave of Animal assassins to their doom, in the attempt to kill Dorothy and friends. More beatings. Long, grueling work hours forced on the Winkies. Brutal act stacked upon brutal act. From her killing one of her sisters to tormenting small bugs. When they arrived at her birth the visions went away, returning them to the void. Morella, for her part could not fight down the grin she wore. It was indeed a wicked life.
"THERE WAS AN ERROR" Death said to Morella's shock. "YOUR REWARD HAS BEEN ALTERED APPROPRIATELY"
She briefly flashed a mean smile, before the shadows began to swirl around her once more.
"No! NO! This is not my fate! Not darkness! No! I don't want this!" The witch howled as the blackness took her again.
"No dread darkness." Morella whimpered pathetically. She was horrified to be aware but lost in the haunting void.
"Hey gents. Our new guest doesn't like the dark. Throw more coals on the fire. Get it nice and hot." A low, guttural voice said from somewhere in front of her. The witch opened her one eye slowly. High above her dark clouds in front of the moon give the look of a pale giant's skull grinning down on her. Sitting up she saw a shadowy figure backlit by roaring flames. Its skin was a burned red. On its head curved elegant horns. The being leaned down on what looked like a rusty pitchfork. "We got a real celebrity here. The Wicked Witch of the West herself. I must confess, I am a big fan." The Devil grinned. His eyes flashed yellow in the firelight.
"What- Where is this?" Morella tried to sound fierce and commanding, but something had been taken from her, and her voice was weak and hoarse.
The Devil cocked his head as if considering how to answer. "This? This is a place for monsters. A place where bad people get their just rewards. This is your home now, Witchy. So, let's get you acclimated."