The room grew dark as
rainclouds gathered. A summer thunderstorm seemed imminent. She closed
the window and shivered as she recalled the Wicked Witch of the West.
She couldn't imagine her to be cowardly in the least. Perhaps people
like her were mean because no one loved them. If that were true, their
bitter attitude only made matters worse. Well, thank goodness the witch
was dead. It seemed wrong to wish someone dead, but the Land of Oz was
well rid of her for she had brought fear and misery to everyone who came
into contact with her. The little Munchkins were no longer afraid now
that she was gone, and could enjoy a peaceful life once more.
"Even outside of Oz," thought Dorothy, "there are certain leaders who
keep their people in fear." She wondered how they had behaved when they
were children.
She began to think of her friends again. She could not help but wonder
how they were and what they were doing right now.
She thought of Aunt Em and Uncle Henry. How /could/ they disbelieve her
story? It made her sad to think that no one believed her.
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