The Foreigners Of Oz

Sara is a young, misunderstood girl. When at the edge of giving up, she finds hope at a new environment: The Land Of Oz.

When she meets Dylan, a boy from earth who has been there as long as he can remember. They will go through some twist and turns.

But will the new friends ever go back home?

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6. Chapter six "A Walk In Emerald City"

The next day I wake up with nothing to wear. Since I'm new here, Dylan had offered to take me shopping for some clothes to have around while I'm here. I was in a little boutique. There was some things I liked in there, but I found nothing that was my size. Everything was too big. I know it's my fault for doing this to myself. Dylan has been telling me about how people here don't judge, and how no one has to worry about insecurities. Everyone feels welcome, so there's really no reason to have small sizes like mine. I walk out of the store with nothing. Feeling ashamed. Dylan has been waiting outside. "Here, you could have your money back." I say passing him his money he gave me. He's such a sweetheart, so kind and generous. "Why didn't you buy anything?" He ask. "There was nothing I liked." I say, hearing the selfishness in my lie. "But you need clothes. You wouldn't be so comfortable wearing the same thing all the time right?" He jokes. I say nothing, not wanting to tell him the reason. "Why don't I buy you that dress?" He ask, pointing at the green wrap around dress in the window. "I actually did like that one." I say, just above a whisper. "Okay, what size are you?" He ask. "Dylan nothing in there fits me." I snap. I feel so embarrest that a tear starts rolling down my left eye. He comes closer to me, holding my arms to say, "What's wrong? Are you that hurt about an outfit?" He says. I wipe-away the tear from my cheek with the back of my hand. "It's just that... I'm so insecure all the time. That's just who I am, that's just who I've been made to be. And I'm just so afraid that I, I throw up what I eat." I admitt, feeling nervous. Wondering if this might get him to have second thoughts about me. I really like him. He puts his hands to my face, holding them there to say, "Sara, whoever has made you feel like that is missing out on what's amazing about you. You're beautiful and smart. But that's their loss." He says. I blush in awe. "Thank you so much. You're the most nicest person I've ever met." I say, under my breath. "All I want you to know is that I think you're amazing, just the way you are." He promises. I'm surprised. He just now said the title to my favorite song. The one that makes me feel most good about myself. I doubt he even knows it. It's just that everytime I heard that song, it never completely spoke to me. None of them have. I know that these songs are suppose to make you feel good, but I know that there made for someone else. These artist don't know me. As much as I wanted to listen to them, I've just always thought that no one feels this way about me, no one ever wanted to tell me I'm beautiful, but Dylan does. Dylan is that true song, made for me. He really does feel this way about me. Hearing Bruno mars say that this girl he's singing to is amazing just the way she is, and pretending that someone feels the-same way about me isn't as good as hearing Dylan say it to me. I don't really like Dylan, as a really good friend. I really, really like him. He's the only one who wants me to feel good. I'm surprised that he even likes me, but that wasn't as much of a surprise then when he kisses me so tenderly. I'm never wanting to leave this moment. My first kiss with my first (I'd say) boyfriend. We left the boutique and caught a horse and buggy. I can't stop staring at the horse as it changes colors. Every minute it will change, from burgundy, to violet. From violet, to jade. I look at the town. It looks so shiny, and of coarse mostly emerald. Dylan showed me a tour to The Dainty China Country, or China Town for short; a place that's actually made all made of china, china houses, and even china people. It's funny how while I'm just introducing myself to the land, Dylan knows everyone, and everyone knows Dylan. Dylan takes me deeper and deeper into a forest. I'm growing impatient, not in owing why we're in this forest I've never been to. "Where are we going?" I snap. "You'll see." He says, so patiently, as if we have all the time in the world. But as we get even deeper, to the center of the woods, I see what he wants to show me. The trees covered in snow, but instead of the trees being leafless, they have long leafs which are covered in white sparkly snow, looking like it's made of crystals. It's like the most beautiful snow-day I've ever seen. He takes one step to get his foot out of the dry land, and crushed inside the deep snow that goes all the way to his knees, without a problem. Walks deeper into the forest of the purest of whites. He offers his hand so I could come along with him. "Shouldn't we get dressed a little more?" I suggest. "It depends--- do you feel cold?" He asks. I pay attention to my body temperature, feeling the velvety snow sticking to my hand and clothes. It's not even melting on my warm hands, but it's anything but disturbing. "It's actually not." I say comfortably. "That's just the magic of the White Forest, as I like to call it." He says, and I just watch the powdery snow falling as easily as a feather, on his curly hair that stops at his waist. "I never showed this place to anyone. No one knows it except for me--" He fixes his gaze unto mine "-- And now you." I smile, gushingly. "So it never gets cold?" I ask, wanting to know if I got that right. I sit down on the powdery, whole, yet mild snow. Wanting to know what it feels like to clasp my hands on snow without feeling numb, and without the feeling of Jack Frost nipping at my nose. "No it doesn't. You know, my father says that this is where he first found me." Dylan says. "Just like you found me at the cornfield." I say. "Yes, but it's strange. He's never actually came here with me. I've never seen him here. He doesn't come with me to the Kings palace either. It's like I've always been on my own. The only place I ever see him is when we're home." He says. "I wonder why." I say. We just lay there for a while, in silence. After a while, I finally decide to speak up. "So, Dylan, why haven't I lost my memorie yet?" I ask a question that's been shyly bottled up inside, just waiting for the moment to happen. "I don't know. I hope you don't, though." He looks down. "But, Dylan, If you're still a foreigner then why can't you remember?" He gives a simple lift and drop of his shoulders. "Because my father wants me to be a citizen. So when my memorie did go away I didn't want to become a citizen." He says. "But why? What happens when you're legally a citizen?" He sits down next to me, underneath the tree full of snowy leaves. "Being a citizen means you won't go back. And to do that you must let go of your life in earth. You gotta kill the body that's waiting to wake-up." He says. "But you seem so sure about living here." I say. "I know--- love it here--- but what if someday I want to go back, but I have no choice but not to?" He lets me think about that. Him being done and tired, wanting to go see what he's been missing, but being here. But I honestly don't know why someone wouldn't want to be here in Oz. I wouldn't wanna miss out here. "Sara, I don't want you living with any regrets." He begs. "Dylan, this won't be a regret. I really like it here--- I like it a lot better then Kansas." I say, hoping to convince him to not worry about me. "But it won't change anything if you just stay a foreigner. Please don't do anything you just MIGHT regret." I sigh before saying, "Fine, but just because you care so much." "Thank you." He says with a smile as we linger into the forest of everyone's dreams. As we kiss he seems so breathless, but not the kind of heavy breathing someone gets when they're kissing. His skin starts to feel clammy with sweat as he lets go of our sealed lips. "Are you okay, Dylan?" The only way HD answers that question is by dropping into my arms, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. I've been trying to wake up Dylan, but he's completely unconscious. I have no choice but to carry him out of this deep, deep forest. I get to my feet, bending over to pull his unconscious hand. It's a good thing he's thin, but he's really tall, and I'm so weak. When I try to lift him into my cradle with all my streingth, it's no use. He just falls hard on the ground, being obsorbed in the deep snow (still not waking up). I have no choice but to drag him across the woods.
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