By H. L. Davis

I stumbled into Kansas in a flash, choking on a cloud of dust. “Too like… Morrisa’s… dramatic entrances,” I coughed. Waving my free hand about my face to clear the air, I frowned and regarded the wand still grasped in the other. Why had it brought me here in such a rude fashion?

Once I could take a satisfactory breath, I declared, “It’s not as if I asked you to make footwear, old friend. Perhaps we should visit Wimberly’s Wands for a thorough inspection when we arrive back home.” With a sniff, I tucked the instrument into the sash of my opalescent gown—a gift from my recently-wed goddaughter, Princess Elle, to celebrate my new position on the Fairy Godparents’ Council. The vote was unanimous, my popularity having soared since the astounding happily-ever-after Elle found with my magical help—well, and the glass slippers I’d purchased from my cousin Fiona’s shoppe.

Nothing must ruin my first job in my new position. Especially not a temperamental wand.

I retrieved my compact, anxiously powdered my nose, and put it away again. “Now to find our poor charity case…”

An alarming “yap!” sounded behind me. I whirled around gracefully. There stood a young girl with auburn braids, freckles, and gray eyes—just as described in her Wish File—with a revoltingly shaggy creature in her arms. I gave my most dazzling smile.

“Dorothy Gale! I am delighted to meet you, dear child.”

The girl grinned, and another yap! came from the tiny beast she held. Sharp teeth bared between its dark lips.

“And greetings also to your… pet rat?”

Dorothy laughed. “This is my dog, Toto.”

I refrained from wrinkling my nose. “What a nice doggie.”

The creature snarled, squirming.

“For shame, Toto!” Dorothy’s hold tightened. “Don’t frighten the beautiful lady. She’s a stranger here.” Dorothy looked back up at me, her gaze curious and bright. “I couldn’t help but notice your purple hair. And the wand you were talking to. And the way you just… appeared. Are you…” She cleared her throat. “Are you my fairy godmother?”

“I am not.” The light in her eyes dimmed—Come Daphne, don’t completely crush her!—and I quickly added, “That is to say, I am your fairy godmother for this one special day, here to grant you one special wish!” I cupped a hand around my mouth and lowered my voice. “And I think we both know what that is.”

“Really?! You’ll take me away from Kansas?” Dorothy bounced on her toes.

My nose tickled as more dust rose. “Indeed!” I scanned the drab, flat landscape around us, the only hints of civilization a small gray cabin and a large gray barn. “I would also wish to leave Kansas as soon as possible if I were in your shoes.”

“Can Toto come, too?”

“Of course! I’m sure a change of scenery will improve his suspicious spirits significantly.” I pulled my wand from my sash. “And now, my dear, for your fresh start!”

Flick, swish!

Sparkles sputtered weakly from the tip of my instrument.

“Come now, old friend,” I muttered, gracing Dorothy with another brilliant, if tight, smile. “Let’s not be embarrassing.”

Flick, SWISH!

A puff of black smoke sent Dorothy and me into fits of coughing.

“Is it supposed to do that?” she rasped.

“It’s been… dramatic of late!” I croaked. The smoke dissipated, and a breeze pulled at my skirts. I granted my wand a quick nod of approval. “But it would seem the winds of change have finally arrived to whisk you away to a wonderful new world!”

The breeze strengthened. Sunlight dimmed, and black clouds blanketed the sky. A low rumbling to my left grew ominously in my ears.

A tornado raced our way.

I attempted not to panic, my voice shaking with… authority… as I scolded my wand. “No, you useless thing! I need blessed winds of change, not a roaring cyclone!”

“Quick!” Dorothy grabbed my hand. “To the house!”

We ran toward the tiny gray structure, the ugly dog barking madly, dust swirling menacingly about our heads. Dorothy threw open the door, hastened across the room, and snatched up a rug that had concealed a cellar door. “Hurry!”

Crack!

The house gave a mighty jolt.

I fell in a heap of satin and chiffon upon the floor, my tiara dangling from my brow. Dorothy landed with a thud beside me, freeing Toto, who sped in circles around the room.

Through the window, I saw the terrifying truth: We were rising above the prairie, up, up, up into the twisting, raging storm. My heart pattered like pixie wings, my stomach churning in a threatening storm of its own. Blasted motion sickness!

Dorothy looked at me, braids disheveled, eyes wide with fear.

I set my lips in a firm line. “Now listen, you,” I hissed at my wand. “Take us to Dorothy’s destination this instant!”

FLICK, SWISH!

With a crash and a screech, the house stopped. Toto whimpered and ran trembling into Dorothy’s arms. I stood shakily, replacing my tiara upon my periwinkle curls. “That’s more like it,” I snapped.

I helped the frightened girl to her feet. “Now, Dorothy Gale,” I soothed in my sweetest tones, “let’s see your new home!”

I pushed open the door. Dozens of short forms in tall blue hats were gathered on the grass, their mouths gaping.

Oz?!

Drat.

“My poor Munchkins…” I stepped outside, Dorothy shuffling along behind me. “I apologize for our rudely dramatic arrival. I…”

I froze. Striking silver shoes were sticking out from under the house, pointy-toed and—Horrors!—still on someone’s feet. The logo for Fiona’s Fabulous Footwear shimmered on the soles.

Morrisa.

A Munchkin voice sang out: “The Wicked Witch of the East is dead!”
Dorothy gawked at the motionless footwear.

Simmering snapdragons!

Amidst cheers and hats thrown to the sky, I flounced toward the yellow brick road, gesturing for Dorothy to follow. A visit to the Emerald City would provide answers about my wand and this horrid disaster.

It must!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

H. L. Davis is a Christian, wife, and homeschool mom who calls the South home. She first discovered the joys of writing at ten years of age, and it is a craft she is delighted to pursue once again. She is particularly fond of fairy tales, whether it’s retelling old favorites or weaving magical stories of her own. You can follow her author journey on Substack and Instagram.

---

More Stories | Instagram