The Cabinet of Dr. Oz

The inspiration for this story was a parenthetical comment in the “Silent-ology” blog: “Man, imagine a straight-up German Expressionist Oz film – now that would’ve been an eye opener!”

And from that day on, the Wizard never left Kansas.

Dorothy opened her eyes. She was lying in her bed in the farmhouse. The color seemed drained from everything around her, and the smell of manure was in her nose. Her aunt looked down at her with concern, then smiled as the girl returned her gaze.

Glinda had told her the Silver Shoes would bring her back, but why wasn’t she on her feet? Why did she have such a headache? She must have collapsed on returning home and been taken to bed. What she had experienced, after all, was stranger than anything most people had lived through. She had killed two women. Both deserved it, and both deaths were accidents, but she had never killed anyone before or even imagined she would.

“It’s Aunt Em, darling.” Did her aunt think she didn’t know that? Yet it felt as if she’d fallen from reality into a dream. A very dull dream. Her aunt picked up a water glass from the bedside table and helped Dorothy sit up and take a sip.

Three farmhands were in the room for some reason. They approached her together, saying things like “You couldn’t forget my face, could you?” What a strange thing to say! As if they had been coached to convince her … of what? Yet she had seen those faces recently. One had a body of metal, one of straw, and the third hadn’t even been human in shape.

“Yes,” she said in alarm, “I know your faces! You were in that other place! Tell her, please. It was a wonderful place, but a terrifying one.”

They forced their faces to blankness. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” said the man who had worn a straw body.

“You must know what I mean. I helped you to get brains, a heart, courage!”

“We aren’t permitted to follow the dictates of our hearts,” said the man who had been heartless metal. What could he mean by that?

“You just had a bad dream,” her aunt said soothingly.

“The place was great and terrible?”

The words came from a man who had just arrived, standing outside the empty window frame. She knew what he was, in spite of the country garb he now wore. She had met him in the guise of a fake fortune-teller, before her involuntary journey. In truth he was the secret master, the one who had made her a part of his plot. The one who had sent her to what was nearly her death.

“You — it was you. The man behind the — behind everything.” She started to rise up but felt dizzy.

“There, there, lie quiet now.” Her aunt gently pushed her back down.

They had to know, didn’t they? Why did they want her to think it wasn’t real?

There was a knock at the door. Aunt Em went to answer it, and then Dorothy heard her say, “Oh.”

“I — I would like to apologize for the things I said a few days ago.” Dorothy thought, no, not her of all people! Mrs. Gulch was such a nasty woman, and she wanted Toto dead!

“Come in,” said Aunt Em hesitantly. The woman entered the bedroom, trying to look contrite. She obviously hadn’t had much practice. “Miss Gale, I regret that I let my temper get the better of me. I am so sorry.” It sounded like a prepared speech. Maybe the parson had made her do it. Mrs. Gulch never failed to attend church, and she respected the clergy.

But she too had been there, and she was the worst one of all! The woman who had hurled fire at her, who had planned to take her life and Toto’s. Dorothy had thrown a bucket of water to save a friend from being burned. What had happened next was etched into her mind forever. It was as if some deadly acid had struck the old woman, turning her flesh to liquid. The sight was gruesome, yet Dorothy had never felt so powerful as in that moment.

Now the witch was alive again, here in her home! Dorothy knew she was the only one who understood. She had to act to save her home, terrible as the sight would be. This woman had to be destroyed, once and for all, and she knew how to do it!

She grabbed the water glass and flung it at the woman. Mrs. Gulch fended it off, and it soaked the front of her dark gray dress before falling to the floor and shattering. Dorothy grinned for a moment, but then fell back in horror as the old woman merely grimaced angrily.

“Well, that’s what I get for trying to be nice!” she said, backing away.

“I’m so sorry,” said Aunt Em, handing her a cloth napkin and looking sharply at Dorothy. “Perhaps this isn’t the best time…”

Dorothy started to rise from the bed, her eyes full of fury. The farm hands held her back. “You all think I had a nightmare!” she shouted. “It isn’t true. It’s Mrs. Gulch who’s the nightmare!” She broke free, shook her fists, and jumped on Mrs. Gulch.

She is the Wicked Witch — the Wicked Witch — the Wicked Witch!”

The fortune teller vaulted through the window, throwing his voluminous greatcoat over the girl. Dorothy fell back on the bed, her meager reserve of strength exhausted. “No, no,” she said between gasps. “He’s the one who calls himself the Wizard. Oz, the great and terrible. But it’s all a lie.”

Nothing she could say would convince them she wasn’t in the grip of a delusion. Or, worse, they knew. The man took Mrs. Gulch aside and quietly said a few words to her. She nodded and quickly took her leave.

The two weren’t enemies, they were in league! Now it was all clear. Oz was not the dream world, Kansas was! Whatever their personal agendas, they desperately needed to keep her from returning, because she was the one who understood.

The man looked down at her face with a sympathetic look. She had no trouble seeing the fear behind it. He was now, as always, the man behind the curtain, the manipulator, the one who had sent her to be killed. Her aunt may have been an innocent victim or a mere dream artifact, but he knew everything. But so did she now!

He pulled his glasses from a pocket, put them on, and studied her face. “At last I understand her mania,” he said calmly. “She thinks I am that ‘Wizard of Oz’. And now I also know how to cure her.”