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A Witch's Hat"Did you hear?"
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"The Wicked witch is DEAD!"
"Hurray! The Witch is..."
Dead. Dead. Dead.
Glinda had tuned out the cries of celebration and merriment hours ago, but that one small, ferociously powerful word lingered with her still.
She had to wonder, if they all had the so called Witch's dieing screams playing over and over again in their head, a haunting broken record, would they still be celebrating so?
Probably. When people had hard times saddled upon their shoulders, they always looked for someone or something to foist the fault on. Elphaba, dearest Elphie, green skinned, snarky, revolutionist that she was made the perfect scapegoat. It was easy to blame a wicked person. It was easy to shirk off the death of one they had come to think of as unfeeling and cruel.
It'd been an awful thing, the worst sort of death they could give one with Elphie's particular ailments. What agony she had went through in those last moments, Glinda couldn't fathom.
But she could imagine.
It had been o