Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: An Alternate Universe of the Wizard of Oz.

Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.


Storyteller’s Abode


Dorothy had a wonderful time with the munchkins in their village. She had been celebrated as the killer of the Wicked Witch of the East. The Good Witch Gelinda sent Dorothy down the yellow brick road with the deceased witch’s ruby red slippers adorning Dorothy’s feet. 

The shoes were heels and uncomfortable. Dorothy soon regretted she could not take them off. She was leaning against a fence, resting her feet, when she thought the scarecrow beside her talked.

“What?” Dorothy asked the scarecrow, “Did you say something?”

The scarecrow continued making funny noises which was when Dorothy, a good Catholic, believed the scarecrow was possessed. She decided to burn the scarecrow and the demon out.

Lighting him afire she watched as the scarecrow screeched and fell in the middle of the yellow brick road, blackened hay and cloth all that remained.

Dorothy smiled to herself. Wicked witch of the East, check. Possessed scarecrow, check. Wizard of Oz here I come!


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Day 12 – NaPoWriMo- Descriptive Paragraph Dismembered – “Mother”

Sitting with bright blue-grey eyes, cheery and smiley. 

Small and thin like a tiny bird, she’s only a size four and 5’2″. 

Her hair is of the lightest brown with blond highlights streaking through.

Pretty, petite, and classy. 

Laughing  gregariously when something on TV is funny. 

Working especially hard sacrificing hours on the weekend and after work. 

In a job where she’s the one who knows.

Detailed, meticulous, and to the point. 

Loving and caring, the one to make all things better. 

Practical , knowledgable; she hates being treated unfairly.

 Wearing small dark jeans from the Gap and a navy and off-white sweater. 

Shopping carefully for the right fabric, cut, and shape. 

Telling me everything will be alright.

 I’m not sure how I’ll ever leave her or live without her. 

She is my mother and part of me too. 

She is in my soul like buds bursting into bloom, she blooms in me.