Goodnight, Oz

The Good Witch looked off into the horizon. The sun was setting, its bright, red glow still barely illuminating the valley that stretched between the northern border of the tall, green wall that surrounded the capitol city of the Land of Oz and the mountains. Her arrow-straight, silky blonde hair blew gently in the evening breeze, the dusk beginning to overshadow the land as darkness crept in. Glinda stood tall, as if she had been turned to stone yet retained her vibrant, lively colors as she watched over the magical land as a permanent sentry.

She wore a long, blue dress that hung almost to the ground, stopping just above her ankles to boast a pair of blood-red heels that elevated her feet several inches from the earth. The silky blue material was bordered by a white pearl looking material that wove its way into the detailed bodice of the gown that dipped sharp underneath her neck to outline the curves of her bosom. The dress fluttered at its hem in the same breeze, flirting with its persistence back and forth.

She scanned the furthest horizon as if looking for something, or someone. Her gaze was tight and rigid. After many moments of her eyes darting back and forth from once corner of her field of vision to the other, she shrugged her shoulders and looked away. It was that instant that it happened, as if the mountains had eyes that were watching her creepily from afar, biding the time until she was unsuspecting and vulnerable, alone in the dusk, the sun almost gone from sight.

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