The Sound of a Thousand Terrible Things Headed This Way

Not in Kansas Anymore...

"Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."

–Dorothy Gale to her dog, Toto, from The Wizard of Oz

A/N: I'm BAAAAAAAACK! Life has been life-ing, and I completely forgot about this story, and lost the inspiration to write (writer's block is a LoVeLy thing), so here, have what I've written so far and uh...tell me whatcha think I guess

   The year was 2024. It was just another Thursday night. My father and I had just gotten home from Colorado, where we had been since about 10 o'clock that morning. My father worked at a church friend's shop in LaPorte, and since the Incident, I had to go with him nearly every time so I wouldn't be home alone. And although I mentally complained about having to wake up so early sometimes, I enjoyed the drive–marvelous sunsets and usually sunny days, especially now that it was getting close to summer–and I treasured the time spent with my dad very much.

We were out late because I had dance practice that night, which was 6:15 to 7:45 in the evening on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But tonight, our teacher, Anne Hall, let us out a few minutes early which was nice because usually dance ran late, and my house was an hour and a half drive from the studio.

I had just gotten my dance bag–a black duffle bag with the dance school logo and my name embroidered on one side, and a few personal decorations of my own hanging from the zippers or pinned into the fabric–and my school bag, which was a purple backpack with my laptop, its charger, my Bible, and a few random supplies like pads, hand sanitizer, and a Celtic Woman CD in it. I usually packed a book to read as well, since technically, I wasn't allowed to be on my phone, but I'd forgotten it today. Anyway, I was standing with the car door open, my diabetic bag–a black, fake-leather backpack-purse- thingy–and my school bag across my back, dance bag in one hand while the other held out the small blue cooler bag we had packed to carry my insulin and a few snacks for my father to carry inside, since I had the coffee cup from earlier to carry inside in addition to the other bags I was carrying.

And then I saw a blinding flash of light, and I'm pretty sure I passed out, because after that, things got kind of blurry.

~

   When I finally come to, after what feels like hours of restless sleep, I wake with a blinding headache that tells me I slept for far too long. Why hasn't anyone decided to wake me up? I think. I was supposed to clean a house with my mom and brother today. Did the people cancel? I certainly hope so, I think as I shift around in bed, eyes still closed as I try to return to the sweet realm of sleep so I can escape this stupid headache.

But something's wrong. This doesn't feel like my bed, or my covers. In fact, what I'm laying on doesn't feel like a bed at all. It almost feels like concrete.

Beeeeeeeep!

The blare of a car horn sounds off, so close to me it literally makes me jump. I let out a little cry of fright, eyes snapping open as I sit up straight, casting about in fear the way I usually do when startled out of sleep–or a doze–even if it's just by thinking someone's standing over me when no one's actually there.

I blink in confusion as bright sunlight blinds me for a split-second before my eyes adjust properly. I flinch as I feel the wind, hear the deafening roar of an engine as another car passes me. What is going on? I think, panic and anxiety already rising in my chest.