Wednesday, January 21, 2015

In Class World Building

Everything is disgustingly sweet, even if the recipe called for handfuls of salt. It seems impossible for the food to be anything but sweet. The wine is bitter, but leaves an aftertaste of ripe berries. As though drinking pure strawberry nectar mixed with raspberries. The chalice that holds the beverage is large, golden and heavy. As though to personify what the drink is truly like. Though light and sweet, it will leave a deep impact later on through the night.

The food is beautiful and smells delicious. Everything seems to be glazed over with sheen. No matter the lighting, it all sparkles and shines. The ham that is perfectly cut and presented tastes almost entirely like honey, as though the meat were the glazing rather than the honey itself. The potatoes taste of sugar and the vegetables are topped with chunks of cotton candy and syrup. The audience present gorges themselves in the food, stating it to be the best meal yet. You cannot stand the sight of the food, much less the taste.

The tablecloth is golden with accents of blue and pink. The colors clash and it hurts your eyes, but you tell the residents it is beautiful. The residents nod and agree with filled mouths, bits of food fall from their mouths and you cringe. Of course you cringe, these are not civilized people. But they brought you in and offered you food, so you grin and bare it. The candles that scatter throughout the table offer enough lighting, the setting sun amplifying the mood, which is unsettling and not fun.

-

“did you hear of the baker near milk river” “yes, yes I did, poor man” “I know! All he did was ask for some milk. How horrid for the creature to bite his nose off. A baker who can’t even smell, won’t be buying his baked goods anymore. Can’t trust his wife, her nose isn’t very good.” “I heard last night that the King of Mo is expecting another child!” “Oh, how grand! More kids. Too bad we don’t have our own. We should take one or two.”

-

It was a sign, nothing entirely important or standoffish. You stare and stare, not quite sure why it is that you’re so enthralled by a plank of wood supported by another piece of wood. Perhaps it is the vines and the moss that grows around it, mainly at the base of the sigh. Or perhaps it is the wording of what the sign is saying

THADA WAI

What does that even mean? Is it a name? You ponder and wonder. The bright red paint, or so you hope it’s paint, is chipping. However it does not fade, as though it had been written just the previous day. The fields surrounding the sign are clean cut, not at all abandoned looking like the sign. It smells of fresh rain and melted sugar. It’s overwhelming, but you do not question it for you are headed towards the Village of Mo. This does not make you stop questioning your surroundings though, or rather what is written.

Thada wai? Is it another language? Is it code? Are you headed for a death trap that could be easily avoided if you only knew the code? Would the people of Mo even set up a death trap? They probably would. All the sugar must have gone to their head by this point, made them think a trap like that was funny and cute.

Thada wai. You say it out loud, taste it on your tongue. You say it one more time. Sounds an awful lot like ‘that way’. You want to smack yourself. The people of OZ are direct and painfully obvious. Their spelling not the best, but clearly it has to mean ‘that way’. You still wonder, what way? The way you came from or the way you’re going? What is that way? The death trap? The bright sun that hits your back seems to mock the situation. The sun is shining and everything is good, go forth to your death. You don’t like the sun at that moment or the sign (or the people of Mo for safe measures).

-

It is the King of Mo. You know this, you recognize this, and you’ve seen the man’s face and many children. He is the king of kings! But not really, not truly. Does he even have a name? Yes, he is king and yes, everyone recognizes this (as you do), but how did he come to be?

There is a queen, children (one too many of them), loyal subjects (or so they claim), and the candy around them makes the citizens light headed. Perhaps that is why they follow him without question. You want to question, but you cannot. You question and you may find yourself in another land. Probably one of the many large deserts. You do not like the desert, so you do not question.

This is why you like the people by the Root Beer River. They question and so the King does not spare a glance at this village. They barely get by and do not let the sweet air sweeten their bitter personalities. You respect them and appreciate their defying nature. But you cannot defy, you fear being shunned, so you never visit the village by the Root Beer River. Word has reached your ears of their talks to take the power from the King of Mo. You find this amusing, for you know of other royals that wish to take the thrown as well. The poor king, constantly being defied by those around him. Do his children defy his too?

You would if you were his child. He is not a smart man.

-

In the village there is one person that has power, or so everyone says. That person is you. You are the only one with the ability to have science to your readily disposal. It is not magic, magic, it is potions and chemicals that put together cause a reaction. Colors change and smoke appears. It appears like the magic the Wicked Witch used long ago, before she died. But you know the truth and the truth is that you do not truly wield magic. Only science. That is okay though, because science is another form of magic and this reassures you and those around you.

It is a dangerous art, using chemicals and other forms of potions to find an answer. One wrong move and you can be blown or turned into a dog. Who would want to be a dog? (You do, you really like dogs, but you’d rather not say this out loud) If you were a dog, though, you wouldn’t be able to help others during their times of need.

-

It is the last day of the week and far too early in the morning for you to enjoy the brisk air. The couple next door, you do not remember their names, knock eagerly at your door, shouting your name. You go to them and listen to their please of joining them for breakfast. It is a tradition of theirs, you see, to wake up early, gather fruits, and make an extravagant breakfast for citizens of the town.

You, unfortunately, were the next victim.


You say yes, of course you say yes, and follow the two towards the dense woods near the village. It smells of fresh fallen lemonade, the citric acid burns your tired eyes. The fruit are ripe and taste even better with the sour taste of the lemon. You appreciate this new fact and smile at the couple as they ask you how it tastes. You pluck berries (strawberries especially for that is your favorite) and they take candies.

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

The Village of Saccharine

Located in the Valley of Mo, near the Maple Syrup River, the Village of Saccharine is known for the overwhelming scent of maple syrup that lingers in the air and the too friendly residents. Labeled as the village where the citizens don’t know the first thing about personal space or privacy, it’s no wonder many don’t venture into Saccharine.

The homes are made of wood and painted in vivid colors, standing out as far as the eye can see. From neon pink to bright green, the homes only enhance the sweetness of the candy that surrounds Saccharine. All doors are kept unlocked and often even wide open for the rest of the world to see what is meant to happen behind closed doors.

Like the candy that grows on the trees, the citizens of Saccharine are incredibly sweet; however, too much of them can make you ill. Their permanently plastered smiles make most who pass by feel uncomfortable and as though they entered a nightmare rather than a dreamland. The wardrobe far from comfortable, ridiculously colored tights with pants and shirts that puff out. The people tend to waddle more than walk in order to not crumple their puffy pants. They all dress like royalty, but keep a conscious effort to never outdo the King of Mo, for he is the king and one must never outdo the royals.

Much like the rest of the residents in the Valley of Mo, everyone in Saccharine is immortal and as such there are few children that live there. With the lack of children, a majority of the citizens have childish personalities in order to bring ‘cheer’ and ‘innocence’ to the village.


The Village of Saccharine is also known for residing one of the friends Dorothy Gale has made throughout one of her many journeys’. Known as the Raggedy Man, he came in to the village of Saccharine one sunny afternoon and decided to stick around longer than anticipated. Stating that the villagers are great pals and one of a kind, the man doesn’t seem put off by the unnerving village.