The True History of Oz

Home Connect

The Next Chapter.
Is The First Chapter.

A whispered legend has it that L. Frank Baum took his OZ story from a mysterious series of books called The True History of OZ.

The Wizard of Oz, the beloved movie from 1939, and all the other adaptations and variations – in books, on TV, other movies, several new ones currently in development in Hollywood – are all based on the book The Wonderful Wizard of OZ by L. Frank Baum.

The problem is, that that source material – Baum’s book – is, according to this legend, wrong.

Or, to be more precise, L. Frank Baum took the idea for his OZ from The True History of OZ, written by a native of the actual OZ named Calista Z. Turns out, Baum stumbled upon this strange 5-volume history while going bankrupt running a general store in the Dakota Territories in 1890. How they came to be in the back room of his general store in the Dakota Territories is a book unto itself.

Baum, at first, did not like these stories. They were dark, violent, full of revenge, terrible secrets, gangs, vice, war, apocalyptic magic, and more.

Nevertheless, Baum, so the still unproven legend has it, recognized the power of the stories and the characters and the world in which they lived. He appreciated the ultimate lesson and theme of those books, which was: If change is possible, then hope is justified.

After reading and re-reading the 5 books dozens of times, he decided to turn it into a children’s story. He made it cute, silly, and sweet, and, of course, it then became one of the most beloved books ever, and he became a fabulously wealthy man.

From a bankrupt shopkeeper, to one of the wealthiest men in America, in a few short years, from one short book. Very curious.

But the real story of OZ, according to Calista Z., who was there, was not cute. Or silly.

Or sweet.

At all.

In other words, there are other words.

This is:

The True History of OZ.

Chapter One! The True History of OZ: VOLUME ONE – The Tin Man Runs the Town

PROLOGUE

Who has endured more than me? Who has had their life, their love, their literal beating heart, torn from them? Who has endured the kind of treachery that I have? Treachery that turned me into a monster. My humiliations will burn everything down, and each thing that burns will make me grow stronger. I am unstoppable. Amee will regret leaving me and I am better, I am stronger, alone. Nick would be sad, wondering what he’d done wrong, wondering what he could do to fix things, for everyone to just go back to living simply and quietly. There is no Nick. Just me. I didn’t seek this Destiny, but I will embrace it. Why would The Mysteries turn me into this monster unless this was my true way? To be this monster, my Destiny? One who’s had to endure what I have had to endure?

My Destiny, it is clear, The Mysteries decree: To rule this criminal underworld. To use my strength, my will, my revenge. To destroy.

CHAPTER ONE

The forest is breathing. Haunted breath. Beautiful and dangerous. In the sigh of dangerous breath, sometimes a word is formed. Maybe a name. Calling out. And – it’s your name. Is this imagined? Is the Haunted Forest sighing, calling you, and if so, why? Is there reason or logic to apply, or being applied? Or is it Magic. If the forest is alive and breathing, if it has always been so, if it is both life-giving and haunted, a sanctuary and a death sentence, all things always, then can it truly be called Magic? If it has ever been so, this state of being, this understanding between nature and the people of OZ, is it Magic, or is it just life as it is known? And if it is just life as it’s known, then what is Magic? Is Magic a fact? A fact of this life? Is it a fact made permeable, malleable? Perhaps Magic is a fact that can absorb new meaning.

A clay pitcher, set on a table.

A simple thing. An everyday thing. Perhaps you notice the craftsmanship that went into the creation of it. Your father made it himself. It has meaning as an object, it has meaning as a memory, and this memory includes the uses you put to it. Objects, memories. What other meanings are possible? Magic is applied, and suddenly this plain pitcher made years ago by your father, as a present to your mother, shaped by his own hands, fired by his love for her, becomes something else. The water it holds is now poison, the water it holds escapes, scalding, it fills the room, this terrible spell – or the pitcher explodes, The Wizard appears, a fate is decreed, a life is saved or ended. Is the pitcher the same as before? A mere pitcher. No, it is not. It is no longer just an object. The memory, and the use put to it, is transformed as well, a new configuration. Magic. Magic is the third state of meaning. Object, memory, and Magic.

Magic is fact here in OZ. This third state of meaning, Magic, makes reality malleable, thus facts are malleable. If the field of possibilities is limitless, then reality is unbounded. How can you be sure of where the edges of the shared reality of OZ are? You cannot be sure. You cannot. Magic, the fact of it, is both risk and reward.

All of this to say – Nick is surrounded by Magic, right now, in this very forest. Magic is not on his mind since it is everywhere and nowhere at once. The haunted whispers of the forest are unnoticed as well. A world of whispers, hauntings, spells, surrounds you, but this all lives at the edge of perception when it is all as matter of fact as the air itself, as the songs of the birds as they cut and dart masterful angles through the trees, as the fog that glides alongside Nick. The fog, the songs, the thick, sweet air of the forest, all accompany Nick on this walk, a walk he’s taken hundreds, maybe thousands, of times. It is beautiful, and Nick knows this, he appreciates it, he feels the everyday Magic deep down inside him, and he is happy.

This path takes him to the Sawmill, and this time to himself is perhaps his favorite time of this and every day. He walks with purpose, for the easy reason that he feels like a man with purpose. A young man, yes, but a young man who feels like things add up, in a good way, that you do the right thing, you want the best for others, you get to the Sawmill on time, treat everyone with respect, and life will take care of itself. This adding up of life’s details is an equation that makes sense to him. There is darkness everywhere, of course, and Nick knows that at any moment life can take a strange turn, that the Mysteries can decide that Fate has been too kind, or too predictable, that the calculus that Nick is making unconsciously must be disrupted. A new variable introduced. He is not exempt from the inexplicable torments, the variables, that the Mysteries visit upon the unsuspecting of OZ. He is not exempt, but he is not cowed, for the simple reason that, to Nick, all is not bad luck! Some drift, expecting the dark black Wolf of Fate to show its dripping fangs sooner or later, and so they lay in wait, not to defend, not to surprise the beast and battle her, but to accept. Life is hard in OZ, always has been, and the sleepwalkers, the Vile-takers, remain in motion, but they drift, no destination, no purpose, they simply await the Wolf.

This dark black Wolf of Fate can strike anywhere, at any time, that the Mysteries decree. There is no announcement, only consequence. Of course! But why should Nick worry about that. He thinks of life as good, his life in particular as good, and should a Wolf show up at his door, that Wolf will find that she has a fight that she must truly prosecute, for Nick is strong, he is brave, his heart is true.

Read the rest of Chapter One  at TheTrueHistoryofOZ

Sign up to uncover the secrets of The True History of OZ