[ WP ] Somewhere over the rainbow , Bluebirds do not fly , they are fleeing for their lives .

It was n't really her fault, but, unfortunately, Dorothy was the only one to blame. 
 
 The land worked in sinister, magical ways, and, unbeknownst to Dorothy, those ways were not to her benefit. While she was under the illusion that Oz was just a dream for her own personal enlightenment, her whole adventure was all too real, and caused an unseamable rift in the kingdom of Oz. 
 
 Queen Mombi strummed her koto and hummed a dainty tune, when she was interrupted by a banging coming from her prized display case. She simpered at the glass box that rustled and hissed before her. `` Do n't be upset,'' she murmured, placing her instrument to the ground. All interest was lost in her song as she approached her marvelous trophy. 
 
 The decapitated head gasped within its confines. All the other heads in Mombi's display room were used to being dead and remained still and quiet, however, the girl was quite the contrary. The box rattled and shook as she tried to turn her head to no avail. There was simply no neck left to allow her to swivel, only sinewy, flapping pieces of skin that snaked along the stand that beheld her. 
 
 `` I'm sorry, Dorothy, but rules are rules. The Tin Man already tried to kill me once. Why do you think I left him out there? Stuck in the middle of the woods?'' she chuckled darkly. The memory wafted back to her -- restraining the assassin paid to kill her, using her recently acquired black magic to turn him to Tin, forcing him to stand immobile for the rest of his days... or so she thought. It was a pity, too, Mombi was about to release ravens that would peck incessantly at his hardened flesh. She crinkled her nose at the thought, then turned back to the head. `` You let him escape. You and that wretched cur of a Scarecrow. But then again, I do n't have to worry about him anymore either.'' She gestured towards the seat she had vacated, and the girl's eyes bulged in realization. Her screams were muffled, but loud enough to be heard through the thick glass. 
 
 Mombi's seat was simply a mound composed of straw and fabric. Somewhere in the mass, Dorothy saw a plastic eye try to blink. 
 
 Mombi hummed, using one of her many keys to open the display case before her. `` But you gave me an idea, Dorothy. If you touch something from our world, you end up here. If I touch something from your world... make it part of me... perhaps I'll end up there. Then, your world, too, shall be mine.'' Mombi unclenched her gnarled talon-like fingers and gingerly picked up the head. Then, in one fluid motion, she removed her own, snapping Dorothy's in place of her own. 
 
 A whistling gale could be heard as Mombi acknowledged the tornado brewing in the distance. She would soon be in Dorothy's world. 
 
 Mombis' world. 
 
 And in the whipping haze of wind, somewhere over the rainbow, the last of the bluebirds screamed.
