Author’s Note: What happens to the witch Elphaba when she flees Oz in the musical Wicked? This story developed from a prompt to find a different look at a fairytale story.
Elphaba walked on the dusty road for miles with only tumbleweeds crossing her path.
The dense monochromatic atmosphere made even her verdant skin look gray and lifeless, merging with her surroundings. After leaving Oz under the calculated cloak of her assumed demise, she a Fiyero were separated by a whirling dust storm, leaving her alone glaring into the desolate horizon.
Opposed to the vibrant kaleidoscope vision of the technicolor land of Oz, the landscape was bleak and colorless, filling her with uncertainty and fear of a force that swept them away to this land.
Restless to find Fiyero and concerned for his welfare, she pulled out her spellbook, still hidden in her witch’s cloak.
“I have to find him right away. He could be hurt,” she said hurriedly flipping through the pages. “I’ll try a simple locator incantation. 123. Let me see, find the one who is most special to me.”
Nothing happened.
“What’s going on?” she said nervously, thumbing through the text for a stronger spell.
“I’ll use a lost love spell, it’s more powerful. My eyes are dark. I cannot see, by the powers I wield, reveal my love to me,” she chanted.
Still nothing happened, sending Elphaba into a panic.
“Is it the incantation or me? I do feel drained. What if my powers don’t work here? I know, I’ll do my first spell. If it doesn’t work, I’ll know something’s wrong.”
She quickly turned to the first page of her spellbook and read it in the origin text, to be sure it would work.
“Abracadabra and alacazam.” She yelled, raising her arms in the air. But again nothing happened.
Elphaba fell to ground and hung her head. “I’m powerless. This place has not only sucked the life out of itself, it’s rendered me useless. Without my magic, how am I going to find Fiyero? How am I gonna do anything?”
Lifting her head, she saw an old farmhouse in the distance. It was so pale it blended in with the cloudless vanilla sky, making it seem more like a painting than reality.
“Maybe none of this is reality. Maybe this is a punishment for falling in love with the wrong man or for just being different. This is my own personal hell and that’s why Fiyero‘s not here with me.”
She got up and walked toward the farmhouse. On the mailbox was one word… “Gale.”
“That sounds so familiar to me, but I can’t put my finger on it,” she said and took a deep breath and approached the front door.
Next to the porch, she saw three farmhands in the nearby pigsty feeding the pigs. She watched them cautiously, hiding behind the corner of the house, careful not to startle them with her appearance. All her life, people were frightened by her mere presence.
“Hey there, young girl, you lost?” one of the farm hands said.
Elphaba curiously looked around and realized he was speaking to her. No one ever called her a young girl before. Astonished by their calm reaction, she looked down at her hands again; they were nearly camouflaged by the opaque setting.
Maybe here I’m not scary, she thought to herself and moved toward the men.
“Yes, I am,” she said politely. “If you please, could you tell me where we are.”
“You’re in Kansas young girl,” the farmhand said proudly with his hands on his suspenders.
“The greatest place on the plains,” the other echoed, puffing his chest out like a peacock.
Elphaba glanced around her sphere. Suddenly made sense. Plain is the best description for this area, she thought.
“What are you looking for?” the third one asked, throwing feed to the pigs.
She paused and thought to herself. What was she looking for? Other than Fiyero, she didn’t have an answer.
“I’m looking for my boyfriend. He’s a scarecrow,” she blurted out and the three men laughed heartily, taking her off guard.
“That’s a good one right there,” the man said with his hands on his suspenders again.
She looked at them puzzled. Why was that funny? He could badly hurt. What kind of sadistic people are these? she thought. She summoned her courage and asked.
“Don’t you have scarecrows here?”
“Sure we do,” chuckled the chest puffing farmhand as he pointed to the field.
Elphaba gasped at first from surprise and then took a second look and signed in relief. It wasn’t Fiyero.
Stuck to the top of a pole covered in black crows was a puppet stuffed with hay. Suddenly she realized that their scarecrow wasn’t real. Confused, she shook her head slightly, trying to make sense of everything.
This place is so foreign. Everything was opposite from Oz, she thought.
The kindly farmhand came up and put his arm around her with one hand still on his suspenders.
She shirked a little, then realized his genuine kindness was completely devoid of terror. No one except Glinda and Fiyero ever showed her any friendship. People either used her for her magic or reviled her appearance and feared her power.
This was different. This man didn’t know her, and yet he instantly gave her the consideration she never experienced before.
“Don’t fret, honey. We’ll help you in any way that we can. Why don’t you come inside and have some pie; that’ll brighten up your day. Then we can figure out what to do next.”
As they walked into the house, she looked around again and thought to herself. This land is strange and lackluster in its surroundings but its people are warm and kind. Oz was beautiful and vibrant, but its people were vile and judgmental. Maybe a bland world could be our salvation. If I can only find Fiyero, maybe we could be happy here in a place unlike home, she wondered.
(c) Copyright 2023 Suzanne Rudd Hamilton
SUZANNE RUDD HAMILTON 