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Home›Nonfiction›Culture›Welcome Back, Dorothy

Welcome Back, Dorothy

By Amber Jenkins
November 26, 2018
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How does one do it? Stand here in the dark and not fight against the urges that burst through the very core of your existence. Some say it’s easy to give up on caring. If one has nothing to care about then what regrets will they face? But I ask myself every morning, “Is death the only thing worth fearing in life?”

There is monotony in my life: wake up at seven in the morning, make a pot of coffee, and watch the news until nine. At least that was the case until three months ago when the darkness encompassed me only for a moment. Fear was the only thing I knew in that instant and I hated it. Years of being completely alone on the farm made me believe that I had experienced everything. There wasn’t anyone to help me to understand what was going on.

When my eyes opened, after what felt like five minutes, I knew something strange had happened. I was no longer in Kansas, at the farmhouse that I had spent so many years tending to after the passing of my aunt and uncle. No, instead I was once again in a place I never expected to be. I spent the last ten years convincing myself Oz was nothing more than a dream. Some strange fantasy brought on by the mind of a sick fifteen-year-old. Now, at twenty-five, I am here.

Nothing changed, yet everything had. Slowly sitting up, trying to reorient myself, I wondered how I ended up here. My mind was taking forever to register how I appeared in the Magical Land of Oz. After all, ten years ago I had been told once I went home I would never be here again. Or so they had said…

Soft, white light surrounded the area I was in, a light I longed to see during my ten-year exile from this place. The fear I felt left as soon as the light took the shape of a body. Oh, how I had longed to see her again, Glinda. She is the only person in existence that seemed to truly understand my wants and fears.

“Sorry to have summoned you again, Dorothy, but times in Oz are dire,” Glinda spoke.

I still remember my time in Oz all those years ago, when my house landed on the Wicked Witch of the East and my inadvertent melting of the Wicked Witch of the West. Though I had yet to meet the Good Witch of the South, I knew she was there. Glinda was the Good Witch of the North, the one who guided me the last time I was here.

“What’s going on, Glinda?”

Of course, I was scared. We had destroyed the evil and rescued Oz all those years ago. Now I found out things weren’t as I left them.

“There is a prophecy, one that has been centuries in the making. Everyone thought it was nothing more than a story created to warm the hearts of the newest generations of Ozians. They tell of a girl with chocolate hair that will destroy the evil within Oz. As you and I know, that part has already happened, but it was the other part that wasn’t clear.”

I watched as Glinda hesitated, paused a moment as if to see if she should proceed. I could feel that flicker of fear increase again. I never knew I was part of a prophecy but my house falling on one witch and accidentally melting the other with water had happened. I will never forget those days, ever.

“What could be so wrong that you brought me here? The first trip was pure coincidence, Glinda, you know that,” I spoke quietly, afraid of what she might say.

“There is civil unrest amongst the Ozians, the rest of the prophecy goes on to say that same girl with the chocolate hair would make one final trip to Oz. It will be her last because once here she will not be allowed to leave. Three trials she must pass, and if she survives, will become Queen of all Oz, uniting the races. If she fails, well then…the land will forever plunge into civil unrest.”

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Latest Comments

  • Ivor Steven
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    February 19, 2026
    Thank you very much for reading my poem here on CHW magazine. It was a fortuitous ...

    Beyond My Outpost

  • Ivor Steven
    on
    February 19, 2026
    Thank you for reading my poem here at CHW; I appreciate your thoughtful comments, EugiI

    Beyond My Outpost

  • Cheryl Batavia
    on
    February 18, 2026
    Ivor, the photo is perfectly paired with this poem, both reflecting the uncertainties of this era.

    Beyond My Outpost

  • Eugi
    on
    February 18, 2026
    Beautiful said, and excellent rhyming, Ivor. Where do we land where there is peace and light?

    Beyond My Outpost

  • Susi
    on
    November 3, 2025
    Beautiful, Ivor!

    Paddling In Time

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