The Immortal Gazette: The Wicked Witch of the West
The firelight flickered against the stone walls, casting playful shadows as Alice and Loki lounged near the hearth. They were both unusually quiet tonight—perhaps it was the changing winds of fate or the unspoken tension between them. Either way, Rumplestiltskin’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, and that could only mean one thing: a new tale was about to unfold.
“Alright, you two,” Rumplestiltskin began, eyeing the pair, “gather around. Tonight’s tale is one of power, envy, and the kind of wickedness that sticks—no matter what you do.”
Loki smirked. “You sure it’s not about you, Rumple?”
Alice grinned, poking Loki playfully with her foot. “Ooh, burn! You getting called out, Twisted One.”
Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow, letting the jabs slide off him like water on oil. “No, this one’s a classic. You’ve heard of Oz, yes?”
Alice straightened up, her usual nonchalant demeanor shifting into one of intrigue. “Oz? The land of walking tin men, talking lions, and… that flying house?”
Loki chuckled. “The one with the yellow brick road and all the magic. The one with the shoes.” He glanced at Rumplestiltskin. “I assume you’re talking about the Wicked Witch of the West?”
Rumplestiltskin’s grin widened. “Ah, you know your tales well. Yes, this is about the infamous Wicked Witch of the West—one of the most dangerous witches to ever set foot in Oz.”
The Wicked Witch of the West: Origins and Envy
Rumplestiltskin leaned forward, his voice low, dramatic. “Now, the Wicked Witch of the West—her real name, mind you, was never disclosed—wasn't always wicked. In fact, she was once just a regular woman, living her life, minding her own business.”
Loki raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that how every villain starts out? ‘Oh, I was just minding my own business… and then BAM! Evil.’”
Alice laughed. “Right. Tell me she wasn’t actually a perfectly nice person, and I’ll lose my faith in these stories entirely.”
Rumplestiltskin chuckled darkly. “Well, in some versions of the story, she’s shown as a little misunderstood, yes. But her jealousy was her downfall. You see, the Wicked Witch of the West was deeply envious of her sister—the Good Witch of the North—and the power and influence she had. When the Wicked Witch's father died, the sisters were left to inherit the family land. The Good Witch received the beautiful, prosperous eastern lands, while the West remained dark, foreboding, and twisted.”
Alice leaned forward. “Ah, so it’s about family drama? Greedy sisters trying to one-up each other?”
“Exactly!” Rumplestiltskin snapped his fingers. “But it wasn’t just about land; it was about control. The Wicked Witch wanted the power her sister had. Power that could change everything in Oz.”
Loki raised his hand, his smile lopsided. “So what did she do—curse the land with darkness and flying monkeys? Oh wait—she did!”
“Indeed, she did,” Rumplestiltskin said, tapping his finger to his chin. “After years of simmering jealousy, the Wicked Witch of the West decided to take matters into her own hands. She became obsessed with obtaining the powerful ruby slippers that belonged to the Good Witch of the East—slippers that held immense magical power. But to obtain them, she needed to kill the Good Witch.”
Alice raised a brow. “I’m sorry, kill her? That’s extreme, even for a witch. I thought we were just talking about wickedness, not murder.”
Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “You’d be surprised what people will do when consumed by envy. She sent the house that fell on the Good Witch, eliminating the obstacle between her and the slippers.”
“And then she spent the rest of her days chasing down a girl from Kansas?” Loki snorted. “How boring.”
“Not just any girl,” Rumplestiltskin interjected, “but Dorothy Gale, a girl who had more power than she could possibly imagine, simply by wearing those shoes.”
The Quest for the Ruby Slippers and the Wicked Witch’s Downfall
Alice frowned. “Wait. You mean the witch couldn't even take the slippers herself? She needed some kid to do it for her?”
“Exactly,” Rumplestiltskin said, smirking. “And that’s where the real tragedy lies. Despite her magic, her darkness, and her ruthlessness, the Wicked Witch of the West was thwarted by a little girl and her band of merry misfits—a lion, a scarecrow, and a tin man. You can’t make this stuff up.”
Loki laughed. “Oh, it gets worse, doesn’t it? She sends her flying monkeys after Dorothy and still can’t win.”
“That's right,” Rumplestiltskin said. “The Wicked Witch’s obsession led her to underestimate everyone—from Dorothy to the wizard himself. In the end, she met her fiery demise, thanks to a bucket of water. Water—her one true weakness.”
Loki grinned. “Water. That’s how the mighty fall, huh? A splash, and bam, all that power goes poof.”
Rumplestiltskin nodded gravely. “She was the ultimate example of how jealousy and obsession can consume a person until they’re left with nothing. No power. No control. No victory.”
Rumplestiltskin’s Twist
With a sly grin, Rumplestiltskin leaned back in his chair. “But, of course, this story doesn't end without a twist.”
Alice narrowed her eyes, clearly intrigued. “I’m listening. Please tell me you cursed a bunch of people in a similar way?”
“Oh, no,” Rumplestiltskin said with a smirk. “But I did once create a cursed object for myself—an object that would remind me of my own obsession. My golden mirror, you see. A reminder of my past mistakes. And every time I look into it, I see my old self. My twisted past.”
Loki, ever the skeptic, leaned forward. “Let me guess—when you look in the mirror, you see your true self—a hideous beast with long, messy hair, bad breath, and a tendency to scream at things that go bump in the night?”
Rumplestiltskin shot Loki a glare. “Very funny.”
Alice smiled sweetly. “No, no, I think it’s an image of a greedy little imp, surrounded by golden trinkets he doesn’t need. Rumple, Rumple, Rumple, we all have our pasts.”
Rumplestiltskin grimaced. “You two never let me forget, do you?”
Alice shrugged. “It’s fun. Besides, it’s always about the past. Especially when it comes to witches and their vanity.”
Loki stretched, yawning. “Well, whatever the case, at least the Wicked Witch of the West met her fiery end. Deservedly so.”
Rumplestiltskin’s eyes darkened. “Jealousy and greed are dangerous things, Loki. Trust me—I know.”
And so, the story of the Wicked Witch of the West ended, not with the triumph of evil, but with the ruin of an obsession that consumed her until the very end. The fire crackled, its warmth a stark contrast to the cold, calculating nature of envy.
🖋️✨📜🖤
