Lost in Oz: Rise of the Dark Wizard

By Joshua Patrick Dudley

A new power has risen in the land of Oz, known only as the "Dark Wizard." The Dark Wizard intends to steal Glinda's Great Book of Records, which keeps track of everything that has ever happened in Oz, as well as each event as it currently happens. He plans to use it to set all the most evil plots of destruction into motion at once.

Never fear, citizens of Oz! Joshua, Tamara, Tommy and Laura are also searching for the Great Book of Records, to erase the fact that they had ever been in Oz. The only problem is: Joshua is stuck in Mifkets Asylum, so when his prophecy comes calling in Oz, who will pay the price?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9780359373253

Book preview

Lost in Oz: Rise of the Dark Wizard

Lost in Oz: Rise of the Dark Wizard

by Joshua Patrick Dudley

Copyright

Lost in Oz: Rise of the Dark Wizard

Copyright © 2019 by Joshua Patrick Dudley

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Edited by Laurel A. Levesque

Cover art by Joshua Patrick Dudley

First Edition: March 2008

Second Edition: November 2018

ISBN 978-0-359-37325-3

Published by JDuDs Productions

Chapter 1: Mifkets Asylum

Silence is all that surrounds me, an idea that to most would be a luxury. My situation differs greatly from any person who would consider this amount of quiet a good thing. I’ve been trapped in this tiny rat cage for three days now, waiting patiently for the never-ending darkness to dissipate and glowing light to flood over my face. The most light I’ve seen is the small sliver that dances across the room when the guards shove a tray of food through the tiny slot in the door. The light ends quickly as the guard’s hand disappears through the panel protecting the hole and it slams shut. A loud clicking noise assures me that I have been locked in and have no means of escape.

Back to darkness. Back to silence. My mind has given up on plotting a clever way to defeat the many guards that line the hall; to discover the perfect way out before the alarms begin to wail. It’s just no use. I’m just too tired. Too tired and too disappointed. I survived a war and now I’m being held captive. At least I’m not alone. Tamara’s breathing assures me that she’s still alive and well. The thought of having my twin sister here with me is something I could only pray for. Though I’d never want to wish this ordeal on her, I’m happy she’s got my back.

Across our cell, I hear a stirring as Tommy and Laura awake. My two best friends in the whole world survived our Oz-cation and are also trapped in this forsaken place. All of us labeled unstable, delusional and possibly suffering from post-traumatic shock, by my psychiatrist here. Dr. Carol is an amazing woman and I constantly praise her and her efforts towards returning my mental health, but there is nothing wrong with me. I know that I am not crazy; I know that I was in Oz.

I can still distinctly remember meeting Dorothy Gale, her dog Toto, a talking Scarecrow, Tin Woodsman and Lion. I can’t forget meeting the great Wizard of Oz and discovering he had sent for me. The prophecy revealed to me by Jack Pumpkinhead still plagues my mind twenty-four hours a day. Good and evil are but one under the mask of greatness. The two shall bear their only son, ruler of both places. As I let the words escape my mouth for at least the thirty-millionth time, I can hear the moans of my friends begging me to stop the madness. I know I’m not insane. I know I was in the castle of Bastinda, the Wicked Witch of the West, when Dorothy doused her with the lethal water. I know I watched the powerful Wizard of Oz, my true father, turn to dust before my eyes.

None of that matters here. Even if it did matter, no one would care. We’ve been reduced to our animal instincts and frequently don’t speak, simply moaning or growling in each other’s direction. The talking stopped at first when we lost our voices from screaming at one another. Then we just never started talking again. No one can accept the facts and move on. They all want someone to blame, to pin the entire mishap on. Tam insists it’s entirely my fault because I took the lead in Oz. She says if we let her lead us we would be home and in our own beds, not here in a living nightmare. Tommy and Laura blame each other for various reasons that I’ve yet to understand. Their conversations involve so many sadistic undertones and spiteful sarcasm that I have a hard time following anything they say. I don’t care anymore. I don’t need to blame anyone.

Our visit to Oz was brought on by some sort of natural disaster, just like Dorothy. I’m not exactly sure, but I believe we somehow found our own tornado taxi with a prepaid travel ticket to Oz. Whether it was a natural occurrence or sent by Oscar Diggs, the Wonderful Wizard of Oz himself, I’ll never know. I do know that I want to get out of this place more than I wanted to get out of Oz. The strangeness of Oz is more appealing than even twelve seconds in this place, let alone three whole days. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t stop my mind from thinking for long enough to focus on a plan. Everything is overwhelming and it’s taking a toll on my body and mind. My eyelids dance back and forth off one another and I feel my neck give slightly and my head tip forward.

NO! I scream at the top of my lungs and shoot myself into sitting position, assuring myself that I am fully conscious. Taking a deep breath and steadying myself, I attempt to stand. This is not an easy task; in fact, it’s rather daunting. The straight-jacket that holds both my arms at my sides makes almost everything impossible to do. All that is easy is sitting but I’ve been sitting for far too long. As my lower half reconnects with the padded floor, I sigh and roll onto my side.

We should’ve followed Alice, I mumble under my breath, hoping for someone to challenge the idea. If we’re not going to speak to each other, we can at least fight to pass the time.

Joshua, shut it! Now! Tamara screams at me.

But… I begin, hoping to push her over the edge. It works.

Joshua Patrick Dudley, she sternly begins. "We just got back from a two-year vacation in Oz that we only booked a two-week tour of. I’m in no mood to be chasing another psychotic, blonde, twelve-year-old idiot around in another big, scary, stupid, fantasy land. Shut up and sleep or something."

Okay, Bastinda. I raise my eyebrow toward her, hoping she knows I’m challenging her, even though she can’t see me through the blackness.

And stop calling me that old puddle’s name! Just shut up, Josh!

Does anyone else want to talk or fight with me? I beg my other two friends.

No, they both reply in perfect synchronization.

The attempt may have been futile, but at least I tried. No one else even puts forth minimal amounts of effort to make the best of the situation we are in. I stand by my idea that we still need to stick together. It worked in Oz, well sort of. We got home, and we didn’t get home by arguing and not speaking. We got home by being a team. If I can just find something that will encourage all of us to come together and work as one, I know that we will find a way out of here.

I hear shuffling outside the door and snake my way over to get a better listen. Resting on my elbows, I place my ear so firmly against the crack of the door that I wouldn’t be surprised if it slid right through.

They caught the girl, a full-toned voice grumbles.

Which? a smaller, squeakier voice begs for the gossip. Alice Liddell, the girl that was in the same room as these lunatics right here.

I can only imagine him sneering in the direction of our door, with such a disgusted look on his face I could almost vomit for him. I can’t believe he just called me a lunatic. If only I could scream out and tell him just what I think of him, but I can’t. I’d only get my restraints tightened and an injection of something that drops me like a sack of bad potatoes. I have to keep my cool.

Where was she? The squeaky one chirps.

She fell down an old well that is being dug up for the new building addition. As soon as she wakes up we’re going to find out just what happened. The enormous man sounds pleased as he lets the words salivate out of his mouth, like he’s drooling over the newest, juicy development on his favorite TV crime drama.

How’d she get out? The woman asks, now showing great amusement in the story and, I think, in the burly man.

There was a faulty panel in the wall and she followed the sewage pipes out. Dumb kid, she took a knockin’ to the head when she hit. She’ll be even more messed up than before.

You are so bad, the munchkin of a woman snorts sarcastically.

That’s why I get paid the big bucks.

I can’t listen to this anymore. I rip my ear away from the crack and try as hard as I can to stop my gag reflex from setting a terrible event into motion. These employees are sick. Half of them have more mental problems than the patients. They treat us like vermin and feed us the same. I have never been in a place where I have felt as little respect as I do now. I’ve been reduced to nothing, nothing but a caged animal and apparently my story is a crowd pleaser.

For the last three days, I have sat at the crack of this door, listening to all sorts of people saying terrible things about me. The floor nurse makes her rounds every morning and night, to distribute whatever kind of medication they are forcing down our throats. Before she enters the room, I hear the scrape of our chart being pulled off the back of the door. Just as I hear the page turn, I hear her chuckle to herself and then whisper our recent developments to another nurse.

Can you believe these kids? In Oz? Come on. They’ve got to be the looniest kids we’ve ever had. She and her crony share in a brief chuckle before the door slides open and I receive my vitamins.

She’s nothing compared to the man who gives us our baths. Once a day, a man comes around with a large plastic tub which is filled with freezing cold water. He plunges us directly in and then straps us down to keep us in place while he washes us.

We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, now would we? he says with a smile. He always smiles, which makes it worse.

Shaking those haunting thoughts from my head I try to focus on escape. There has got to be a way out of here. Alice got out, but she fell down a hole. Who does that? Honestly. No, there’s got to be an easier way.

Guys, I start, ready to empower my friends.

Shut it, Josh, Laura instantly interjects. Something that is quite unnatural of her.

No, I won’t shut it. I shout, maybe a bit too harshly. We’ve done nothing but mope around since we been in here. We’re starting to act like the creeps that actually do belong here. How are we ever going to get out if they don’t see us acting normal?

Who cares? Tamara moans.

I do and so should you. There’s got to be a way out.

The only way out is just to rot, Josh. That’s all we’re here for. I hear Tamara roll onto her other side, away from me. Obviously, this conversation is over.

Good and evil are but one, under the mask of greatness. The chanting bounces through my skull again, plaguing me to figure it out. I know what that part of the prophecy means. I remember discovering the fact that Bastinda was impersonating the Wizard of Oz and all of her dark intentions were sweeping through the land. I saw her climb out of the mouth of the giant head that the Wizard used to disguise himself.

That’s all my fault somehow. I changed the story the story of Oz. I know that much of what happened on my journey in Oz is not what was supposed to. I know that my very presence in Oz set off some chain of events that was out of my hands. I never meant to destroy Oz, but I never volunteered to go. Somehow, I was brought to Oz and now I am responsible for whatever state it is currently in, good or bad.

The two shall bear their only son, ruler of both places. The final verse rings trough my ears and sends icy pain up and down my spine. I wince, but it’s no use. I have to accept the fact, that somehow, I am the son of the Wizard of Oz and the Wicked Witch of the West. That I am the rightful ruler of Oz. How can that be? I specifically remember Jack Pumpkinhead telling me that his father was Princess Ozma of Oz, the rightful heir to the throne. So how could it be possible that I am next in line? She’s still alive; there is no way I could be taking over the throne.

Shaking the exhausted thought from my mind, I close my eyes and try to find peace. I feel a slight swaying motion in my body though I am absolutely positive that I am lying still. The gentle rocking calms and soothes me as I imagine being a child in my mother’s arms. Before the thought has time to sink in, I hear the jingle of keys accompanied by footsteps approaching our door.

Dudley, a distinguished voice states my name, as if waiting for my response. As the door creaks open and light washes over me, I squint my eyes and try to see who’s speaking to me.

Uh, yeah? I answer.

On your toes, you have a visitor.

Are you sure? I wonder. No one has come to see me in the past three days, why would they be here now?

Get up! The voice demands. I still can’t