To their left, the red and white road twisted and curled through a forest of maples and larches painted in their autumn colors, and evergreens that decorated the ground with cones. To their right, the red and white road wound through a plain of wheat, dried and ready for harvest, then rose up onto a Hallowed Hill. Atop was a tree with its gnarled limbs reaching up to the sky like the hand of the undead reaching out of its tomb.
Dorothy shivered. She didn’t know where the ruby slippers had taken her, but one thing she knew for certain was that it wasn’t Christmas.
“I was afraid of this.” Scarecrow shook his head and pointed. “Not even magic could take us directly to Christmas. It could only drop us off on Candy Cane Road!”
It was the only evidence they had. The thin pole with a golden top, a swirling body of red and white, and a third pole that jutted out perpendicularly and held a red flag with curly, white writing.
‘Welcome to Candy Cane Road’
“And what exactly is Candy Cane Road?” said Dorothy. “And more importantly, where is Candy Cane Road? And most importantly, where does Candy Cane Road lead to?”
“To Christmas, of course!” said Scarecrow. “Where else would a road that looks like that lead?”
Scarecrow explained that he had read all about Candy Cane Road. Like how characters from all sorts of places took the road to Christmas each year. How the stripes got thinner the closer to Christmas one came. And how the road was actually one big, three hundred and sixty-five day loop. But for all the man of hay did know, there was one thing he didn’t.
“How do we know which way to go?” said Dorothy.
“Well,” said Scarecrow, “if Candy Cane Road is one big loop, then no matter which way we go we’ll arrive at Christmas.”
“That’s wonderful, but we have no idea where on Candy Cane Road we are! For all we know, Christmas could be just over that hill.” Dorothy pointed to the undead tree, then jutted a thumb over her shoulder, “or 364 days that way. And I’d much rather get to Christmas before it’s summer again.”
And as if the road itself was listening, two poles with golden tops and bodies of swirling white and red popped out of the ground. One to their left, toward the forest. One to their right, toward the hill. Each waving their message.
‘This way 318 Days to Christmas’
‘This way 47 Days to Christmas’
It was much farther than Dorothy would have liked but the longer they stood around talking about it, the longer the trip would take. And what really mattered, was they knew which way to go. All that was left, was the going. That is, unless you’ve travelled a road like Candy Cane Road before.
“Well, I suppose we should start walking,” said Dorothy.
“Walk?” said Tin Man. “There’s a long road that winds through a magical land, and you want to walk?”
A wide smile stretched from ear to ear as Tin Man stuck out a crooked arm. Dorothy couldn’t help but smile as she looped her arm through. It wasn’t Christmas, but feeling like they were back in Oz was just as good.
“The old fashioned way then!” she said. Scarecrow tucked an arm through hers on her left, Tin Man on her right. “On three. One … two … three!”
Follow the Candy Cane Road.
With every thirty paces, the bricks switched from red to white to red again.
Follow the Candy Cane Road.
As they passed through the fields of wheat, they broke apart, they couldn’t resist reaching out to graze the tips.
Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the Candy Cane Road.
As they reached the base of the hill, they came back together, locked arms and ascended. And when they topped the hill, they stopped beneath the grisly tree. Thinking now that it may have been a warning for what lay beyond.
As Candy Cane Road descended the hill, it disappeared beneath a great green mass of tangled vines. The green limbs crawled, dove, and wound, over, under, and around one another, til’ there was no telling where the plants originated or whether it was one plant with thousands of limbs. And it was only at the far end of the patch, near the horizon, that the bricks reappeared and continued on their way to Christmas.
“I don’t suppose those vines are alive,” said Dorothy. “You remember those trees back in Oz, don’t you, Scare?”
Scarecrow nodded. “Only one way to find out.”
Up close the tangled vines were much less intimidating. There were even openings where the red and white bricks of Candy Cane Road were peeking out beneath the creeping plant. Just in case, Dorothy and the others made sure they didn’t step on the vines. They hopped from opening to opening. The task becoming more difficult the closer to the center they came. It was only when they stopped for a short rest that they noticed how peculiar the great sea of vines really was.
“Pumpkins!” said Dorothy.
“& Truffles!” said Scarecrow.
“& Treats” said Tin Man.
It was too good to be true. Growing from the vines were more than pumpkins. Truffles grew in tiny clusters and tasted like chocolate and walnuts. Jellybeans grew in oval pods, ready to burst at the slightest touch, and tasted like apple crumble, while lollipops dotted the vines like flowers whose petals swirled with flavors of maple and smoke. There were even small mugs, steaming with the scents of apple cider, chocolate and cinnamon, and pumpkin spice, resting precariously on the writhing limbs. Though the mugs were hardly big enough to hold much more than a thimble full of liquid. Dorothy was so distracted by the all the goodies she didn’t notice who the mugs belonged to.
“Hey, watch yourself!”
“Oh my!” said Dorothy. By her feet was a gingerbread man with a basket of freshly harvested truffles & treats hung on his arm. “I’m terribly sorry, mister. I had no idea I’d find you here. In a pumpkin patch nonetheless.”
“It’s a pumpkin & truffle & treat patch. Can’t you see, lady?” the gingerbread man took a moment to wipe his eyebrows off and redraw the red icing in a deep furrow. “Sheesh, can’t a gingerbread find some peace and tranquility before the holiday rush?”
Dorothy was flabbergasted by the gingerbread man’s tone. They never meant to intrude. Besides, it was the pumpkin & truffle & treat patch that grew over Candy Cane Road. Not the other way around. She had half a mind to give the attitude right back but the man of bread and ginger wasn’t done.
“Hey, you overstuffed bag of hay!” the gingerbread man cocked a lollipop back and let it fly. “Put my house down!”
Scarecrow was holding a pumpkin up to better admire the carving when the lollipop struck and stuck to the hay sprouting from his head. It stuck much the same way one might wear a flower. But he didn’t notice the addition anymore than he noticed what was happening inside the pumpkin he held. Inside a gingerbread wife and child screamed until their dough throats turned raw. The décor, crafted from the walls that were carved out to make the door and windows, tumbled and slid. On three occasions the cookies were nearly crumbled. And the chaos only continued.
“Watch where you’re stepping!”
A truffle struck Tin Man in the chest. The impact wasn’t much but the surprise was enough to knock him off-balance, forcing him to step on a vine. It hissed and writhed beneath his heel. “Terribly sorry!”
“Eat me, you oversized tea pot!” More truffles rained forth and pinged off the Tin Man’s body like droplets on a tin roof. “Take some responsibility for those clunky feet of yours!”
As the barrage ceased, the Tin Man’s lips quivered and his eyes welled with grease. “Clunky!”
Dorothy rushed to Tin Man’s side as quickly as the hazardous and rude terrain would allow, and took him by the hand before they were all swimming in turkey grease. She realized that these gingerbread families were just trying to get away, she wanted to explain that they didn’t mean to disturb their holiday, that she and her friends were just trying to get away too, but they didn’t want to impose any longer. Not when it was clear by their icy glares that they were unwelcome.
So, with the far edge of the pumpkin & truffle & treat patch in sight, they ventured onward, taking care not to step on the vines, carved homes, or families of gingerbreads picking truffles and treats. But the chaos was only getting started.
“AHHH!”
Dorothy, Toto, Scarecrow, and Tin Man turned and watched as Lion charged down the Hallowed Hill.
When the 80’s left, Lion stayed behind. He bought up every neon wind suit that went on sale. He also got a custom pair of Air Jordan’s to match. He didn’t care what the current trends were and he wasn’t trying to bring the fashion back. He simply liked the vibe and wore it proudly.
Lion hopped through the pumpkin & truffle & treat patch with the same grace his permed mane flowed over his shoulders with. Screams filled the air as gingerbread families ran for cover from the turquoise terror that danced above, yet in all his haste his Air Jordan’s didn’t squish a single home or vine.
“Run.” Lion’s voice was hoarse and ragged as he rested his paws on his knees and tried to catch his breath. “Run!”
“Well, it’s good to see you too, Lion,” said Scarecrow, hands pressed on his hips. “Especially after you up and left without anything but a lousy note! I sure hope this once in a lifetime opportunity is what you said it is. I’d say you owe us an explanation.”
“There’s no time! We have to run. He’s coming!” A roar echoed in the distance. A roar that made the hair on Dorothy’s neck stand. Toto’s too. Lion held his tail close like a security blanket. “That was him! The Madman!”
“Quit your groveling!” said Scarecrow. “This is unbecoming of a King.”
“You don’t understand. He’s a certified crazy person.” Lion gripped Scarecrow and brought his face to his own. “He showed me the certificate!”
Dorothy didn’t know what to make of the situation but the roar and the look in Lion’s eyes was enough to make her second guess about coming to Christmas. She was trying to get away from Halloween, but now it seemed she and the others had found themselves in a real-life horror story, filled with unforgiving gingerbread families and now, a roaring Madman.
“But why is this Madman after you?” said Dorothy.
“There was no other way! No one bold enough to protect everyone from his Madness!” Lion took Dorothy’s hands in his. “Oh, Dorothy, you should have seen it. The violence, the horror! And he wanted to spread it during Christmas!”
“Slow down, Lion.” Dorothy shook her head. “You’re not making any sense. Spread what?”
But there was no time for explanations. Atop the Hallowed Hill, a silhouette appeared with a murder of crows that circled above.
“Dorothy, get us out of here!” said Lion, his voice thick with desperation. Dorothy had never seen Lion so terrified. He was so scared it made Toto, Scarecrow and Tin Man latch onto her in hopes of escape.
Without another word, they were on their way.
Dorothy cradled Toto. Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion held onto Dorothy.
Click.
There’s no place like home.
Click.
There’s no place like home.
Click.
There’s no place like home.
Dorothy’s slippers sparked and fizzled but the pumpkin & truffle & treat patch stood still and the glitter of the ruby slippers faded. Their magic was dead. Gone. Vanished. Dorothy and the Yellow Brick Road Gang were stranded.
The Madman charged into the pumpkin & truffle & treat patch with an enraged bellow. As he stomped, the vines hissed and writhed, pumpkins caved in, and screams of horror and names of loved ones filled the air.
“Gingdra! Gingie!”
Cries and shouts for help escaped the mess of fleshy rubble. The Madman stopped to witness the carnage he create, he reached down to seize one of his victims when the wrath of the gingerbread men and of the patch fell upon him.
Truffles and lollipops became projectiles, exploding and sticking on impact. Vines turned to whips and lassos, lashing and tying the Madman down. It was the chance Dorothy and the gang needed.
“Run!” said Lion. Dorothy, Scarecrow, and Tin Man sprung into action, hopping through the last of the pumpkin & truffle & treat patch, back to the safety of the Candy Cane Road and onward toward Christmas. There was no telling how long the gingerbread men and the pumpkin & truffle & treat patch could restrain the thrashing lunatic. All they could do was run, and hope they made it to Christmas before the Madman caught up. “Nothing can stop us from saving Christmas now!”
But as the patch drifted into the horizon behind them, a pole with a flashing golden head and a swirling body of red and white burst from the ground with a new message. One that the fleeing group would never read or prepare for.
‘Warning! Stickup Ahead!’
