Disclaimer: I do not own Wicked or any of the characters involved with it, with the exception of the ones that I create.
Chapter 1: All Dried Up
It had been three days since the so called Wicked Witch of the West had been murdered by Dorothy. A gruesome puddle remained where no sunlight shone, the remains of the Witch. Elphaba's family mourned for her. A boy she had watched over and her old nanny were the last people left. The nanny couldn't stand staying in the stronghold any longer. Too many memories were left over….she couldn't think of anything else to do but tidy up the "house". Walking along, dusting what ever she could find, she worked tirelessly. Finally, she came to the room where the remains were. She started to tear up, despite her best efforts. Elphie…gone forever now. She tried not to look at the puddle too much as she went about her business in the room. Both sisters lost within a short amount of time. One after the other. Fate is surely a fickle thing to be dealt with. She smiled bitterly. One window remained in the room. It was closed. Such a sad place. For the boy I mean. Though he often complained, he loved her dearly. I'll just open this window…let in a bit of fresh air…she crossed the room, careful no to step on the gruesome looking remains. She tried the window once: it was stuck. She tried it again, still getting the same result. A third time she tried, and this time the window came popping open, sunlight filling and warming the dark, dank room. "There. That's much better now." She turned to walk out but as she came closer to the doorway, she heard a hissing coming from behind her. "What in the name of-" She dropped the rag and mop that was being carried.
The sunlight had shone on what used to be the Witch. As it had done so, the puddle began steaming, hissing. As more light hit it, it began to boil. The nanny backed away horrified, speechless. Her face was frozen in a mask of fear. Finally, light shone on the whole of the puddle. It began to squirm, to take shape. It rose in a column of green, and the black cloak by it rose to surround it. It began to spin, like the twister that had brought Dorothy into Oz in the first place. Faster and faster and faster, until suddenly, it stopped. An eerie silence descended upon the room. A shape began to take shape underneath the cloak, the shape of a person. The being lifted its arms, looking at its hands, which were greener than the emeralds rumored to make up the Emerald City. It ran its hands over where its face would have been, and a gasp emerged. Slowly, it turned around to face the nanny. The poor old woman tried to run away, but couldn't. Her legs wouldn't move. The figure faced her, and the hood dropped, revealing the likeness of a green person. "Nanny?"
The Wicked Witch was back.