Postcards from Oz

The Scarecrow needed no sleep, and so often at night he would keep watch. Now, camped with the hastily assembled Royal Army of Oz, the Scarecrow often wandered the perimeter at night. He thought every little bit helps, and his button eyes saw just fine in the dark.

It was now, the night before the assault on the Witch’s land that the Scarecrow came upon the Wizard of Oz. Oscar sat on a small perch above a cliff, a clear view of the west, it’s dry rocky terrain different shades of blues in the light of the moon.

“Ah Wizard, it is late, I did not expect to find you awake, and out here at the edge of our camp.”

The Wizard looked over to the Scarecrow coming out of a tangle of bushes, clumsily getting his clothes snagged on brambles.

“You. The Scarecrow.” He did not look happy to see the Scarecrow.

“The only name I know of to be called,” said the Scarecrow. He pulled himself free of the bush, and took a seat on a flat rock nearby. “My understanding is that old men like you should be very much asleep at this hour. Is something wrong?”

“Everything is wrong Scarecrow. I see why you ask for brains. “

“In my limited time of knowing you Wizard, I have come to understand you’re not a very nice person, and out right rude at any given moment. I understand this though, as you have been a man of great position for a long time, and such power drifts you away from manners towards the common people.

But with me, you are always rude. Always quick to anger. Am I wrong in sensing that you have a stronger dislike for me than most others?”

“No. You are not wrong.”

“Ah, as I suspected. Why?”

“You have seen that I possess no magic. I am not a Wizard of Magic, but a Wizard of Machines. Of science. But you; well I look at you and my mind screams. You make no sense. You are purely a creature of magic.”

The Scarecrow nodded, “The man of science does not like the man of magic.”

“I don’t like magic period. Where I come from, one plus one equals two. Here, in Oz, one plus one equals talking chicken. It’s madness this land.”

“And yet you rule it.”

“Better to rule than serve. Grab power where you can Scarecrow. And never let it go. But I don’t hate you for being magical Scarecrow. I’ve been here so long, I’m used to the madness of Oz. It’s not hate that I feel towards you.“

“Then what do you feel towards me Wizard?”

“You know. Do not play with me Straw Man.”

“You fear me.”

“Yes.”

“Because I am magical. You do not understand what drives this body to move, to talk, to feel.”

The Wizard pointed at the Scarecrows chest. “I could tear open your shirt, and find only straw and sticks. What scares me worse though, is not that you exist, but how you exist.“

“You are asking who made me.”

The Wizard nodded.

“You are wondering how I came to be, when magic is outlawed in your territory.”

“Yes.”

“And you are making me think about how outside your borders, sat four Witches; women who control magic.”

“Life is the most powerful force I have encountered. To create it out of nothing is powerful magics indeed.”

“Of which only a powerful Witch could control. You imply one of the Witches made me.”

“And that is why I fear you Scarecrow. I hope to never know why one of the Witches of Oz created you.”