follow the yellow brick road
The wicked witch is barely down and out for the count when Dorothy grabs the shiny Manolos from her feet and the Munchkins start singing for joy. It’s too easy; and Dorothy knows this. Just like she knows that her own army of flying monkeys isn’t part of the story.
She’s not entirely innocent; not when it was her house that crushed the wicked ( Read more... )
Her coffee’s too hot and her heels too high and every morning she burns her tongue and breaks her neck as she takes her place at the top.
(It’s beautiful on the outside, hollow on the inside and the foundations are cracking under her feet.)
Beautiful prose with these lines. She's working so hard and sacrificing so much for the life she thinks is so much better, and every morning she barters away a little more of her goodness, her innocence away.
But the Wicked Witch isn’t all that wicked (she was like Dorothy once, a long, long time ago) and all she ever wanted was what was hers to begin with. The Wicked Witch allied herself with the good witch a long time ago - back when Glinda wasn’t that good.
I love the metaphors. Blair - a wicked witch who isn't truly wicked, just lost her innocence much too early and has learned how to fight back to stay alive. Serena - a good witch with a dark past.
The scarecrow has no brain. The farmer’s been controlling him from day one; telling him where to stand, who to associate with. The Wicked Witch, too.
But he breaks away from it all and decides enough is enough. He needs to make his own choice, follow his own path. He needs to do things for himself, not for others.
He just doesn’t know what it is.
I took the whole paragraph. It's completely, utterly him. Desperate to break free of his puppet's strings, but completely lost without them. He's been controlled for so long, he can hardly remember how to think for himself anymore.
“Be careful out there. I hear a storm’s brewing.”
He’s glancing in the directing of the U.E.S and she involuntarily shivers. He catches this and with a wave and a smirk, he’s gone.
(Jenny takes heed his warning. She ties down the lawn furniture and nails up her windows. Sitting in the bathtub, hands over head, she prays for the best.)
I like it for some reason. Something along the lines of Chuck not wanting to see yet another girl fall. Jenny's desperation to grasp onto what she's worked so hard for. Win.
With an absent father, he was never taught how to be a lion, and his mother was busy hunting and providing to take much notice.
Hunting and providing (for bank accounts to marry and divorce and walk away with half of) Lily made me smile, despite the sadness of Eric's tale. The lion minus courage metaphor is once again an onslaught of win.
It’s confusing and doesn’t follow the designated plot line and Dorothy begins to wonder whether she’s in a dream within a dream or something surreal like that. Glinda watches silently from the sidelines, interference kept to a minimum, for Dorothy’s benefit, not hers.
The Scarecrow is blown down with a gust of wind (he’s an easy victim) and, not surprisingly, it’s the Tinman who absorbs most the impact; heavy blows leaving little dents and non existent pain.
The lion roars as loud as he can, but it’s not enough.
She pushes forward, cautiously. The wizard will save her. The wizard will lead her home.
Beautiful scene. Once again. I love the idea of the roaring lion and the war brewing and Jenny's faith being put in someone else once more. Dead on.
Instead she clicks her heels three times and wishes to go back to a time, a place, a feeling that resembles home.
Love this. All she wants is everything back to where it was, even if that means Kansas.
Blair reigns from her spot on the steps, a familiar scarf around her neck and notices the ex-queen and raises her coffee towards her.
(Game recognises game, no matter the outcome.)
Last one, I promise. Familiar scarf (I stopped to squee after reading this.) and raised coffee. It feel s like a bit of a justification to me, a gesture that maybe she accomplished something after all.
In short: great job. I'll be happily awaiting more.
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