from the 1900 novel by L. Frank Baum, re-set in 2026
adaptation by Scooter Willis (this chapter simulated by the assistant at the adapter's request, 2026-09-21/22)
Kansas, 2026 - a modern working farm like the Kent farm in Superman: a white two-story three-bedroom farmhouse at the end of a gravel drive, a red barn, a green John Deere tractor, solar panels on the roof, a Starlink dish at the eave, an old Ford F-150, a Tesla, and a red 1968 Mustang convertible, a hundred acres of corn burnt gray by drought; an outside storm cellar beside the house with two steel doors set at 45 degrees. The family is struggling. DOROTHY is sixteen going on seventeen: tall, slim and athletic - the build of a runner or a volleyball player - with an angelic, classically beautiful face, long dark brown hair in one braid; confident, fearless, a tomboy who hates how remote the farm is and does not care how she looks; in this chapter she wears a loose number 22 basketball jersey, loose shorts and high-top basketball shoes. TOTO is a big white American bulldog (played by the real dog Astro), broad-chested, short white coat, dark eyes. Nobody in sight. The white house at the end of the gravel drive, the red barn, the tractor in the yard, the solar panels catching the first light, the Starlink dish, the F-150 and the Tesla by the barn, a red convertible under a tarp, and the gray corn around it all.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer’s wife.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+Their house was a white two-story farmhouse with three bedrooms, at the end of a gravel drive,
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+with a red barn behind it, a green tractor in the yard, solar panels on the south side of the roof, a Starlink dish at the eave, an old F-150 and a Tesla at the barn,
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+and beside them, under a tarp, a red 1968 Mustang convertible that had been her father’s, and a hundred acres of corn planted around it all;
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+and the bank owned most of it.
+The flat gray country to the edge of the sky. No tree, no other house, no one. The plowed land baked into a gray mass with cracks running through it; the corn burnt gray at the tops.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+Not a tree nor another house broke the broad sweep of flat country that reached to the edge of the sky in all directions.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+The sun had baked the plowed land into a gray mass, with little cracks running through it.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+Even the corn was not green, for the sun had burned the tops of the long blades until they were the same gray color to be seen everywhere.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+Once the house had been painted, but the sun blistered the paint and the rains washed it away, and now the house was as dull and gray as everything else.
+Beside the house, two steel doors set in the earth at a slant, shut. Nobody about.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+It was reached by two steel doors set in the earth at a slant, which opened outward, from which a flight of steps led down into the small, dark hole.
+Empty. A stove, a cupboard of dishes, a table and chairs, a rack of boots by the door. On the counter a phone, face up. On the wall a framed photograph: a small home-built plane on a grass strip, a man and a woman beside it, a girl of eleven between them.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+When Aunt Em came there to live she was a young, pretty wife. The sun and wind had changed her, too.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+They had taken the sparkle from her eyes and left them a sober gray; they had taken the red from her cheeks and lips, and they were gray also.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+She was thin and gaunt, and never smiled now.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+When Dorothy, who was an orphan—
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+her mother and father had died five years before, when the small plane her father had built with his own hands was caught in a tornado—
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+first came to her, Aunt Em had been so startled by the girl’s laughter that she would scream and press her hand upon her heart whenever Dorothy’s merry voice reached her ears;
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+and she still looked at the girl with wonder that she could find anything to laugh at.
+Tools laid out on the tractor's fender in order. Rough boots by the barn door. No one.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+Uncle Henry never laughed. He worked hard from morning till night and did not know what joy was.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+He was gray also, from his long beard to his rough boots, and he looked stern and solemn, and rarely spoke.
+An empty outdoor court on the edge of a small Kansas town. Dorothy, alone, in the 22 jersey and high-tops, dribbles once and puts up a long three from well behind the arc. Nothing but net. Toto sits under the hoop and watches the ball drop through. She gets it, walks back out, shoots again. Nothing but net.
+Another three. Net. Toto's head follows the ball up and down. Dorothy does not smile; this is work.
+DOROTHY
+One more, Toto.
+She shoots. Net. Toto barks once. She scoops the ball and walks for the gate; Toto trots after her.
+The red Mustang, top down, fast, radio loud, Toto upright in the passenger seat barking at the wind, Dorothy's braid whipping. A chain-link fence, soldiers at a gate, low gray buildings, a sign: QUANTUM LEAP - gone in a second, dust standing in the air behind the car. Then miles of corn, gray and failing, to the horizon.
+The Mustang comes up the drive too fast and stops in a cloud of dust that rolls over Uncle Henry, bent over the tractor's engine. He straightens, gray from beard to boots, and says nothing; he looks at the sky instead, which is grayer than usual. Dorothy is out of the car and running for the house, Toto after her.
+Aunt Em at the sink with her back to the door, thin and gaunt. Dorothy in the doorway in the jersey and high-tops, Toto pushing in past her legs. The radio still faintly from the yard.
+AUNT EM
+There are chores on this farm that don’t get done while a person throws a ball at a hoop. The dog stays outside. And take those shoes off—you’re tracking in dirt.
+Dorothy puts Toto out on the step with her foot, does not take the shoes off, leans on the door frame.
+DOROTHY
+Basketball is my way off this farm. It’s a scholarship, if it’s anything.
+AUNT EM
+The school doesn’t even have a girls’ team.
+DOROTHY
+Then I’ll try out for the boys’ team. There’s no rule against it.
+Aunt Em finally turns and looks at her: a woman who was young and pretty once, and does not smile now. Dorothy laughs - one short laugh - and Aunt Em's hand goes to her heart.
+Uncle Henry sits on the doorstep looking up at the sky. Dorothy stands in the doorway with Toto at her side on the step and looks up too. Through the door, Aunt Em at the dishes. Aunt Em's phone lies on the counter beside her.
+AUNT EM
+The county alert went off an hour ago. I turned it off.
+UNCLE HENRY
+Sky says the same.
+From the far north a low wail of wind; the long grass bows in waves. Then a sharp whistling from the south, and as they turn that way, ripples in the grass coming from that direction too. Toto's ears go back.
+Uncle Henry stands up.
+UNCLE HENRY
+There’s a tornado coming, Em. I’ll go look after the stock.
+He runs for the barn where the cows and horses are kept.
+Aunt Em drops the dish and comes to the door. One look at the sky.
+AUNT EM
+Quick, Dorothy! Run for the shelter!
+Toto bolts from Dorothy's side and hides under the kitchen table.
+DOROTHY
+Toto! Here!
+Dorothy goes after him. Aunt Em runs out to the storm cellar beside the house, throws back the two slanting steel doors and goes down the steps into the dark. Dorothy gets hold of Toto; halfway across the kitchen the wind shrieks, the house shakes, and she sits down hard on the floor.
+From outside, from a distance: the white house whirls around two or three times and rises slowly into the air, the cellar doors shut in the ground below it. No one visible.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+The house whirled around two or three times and rose slowly through the air.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+The north and south winds met where the house stood, and made it the exact center of the tornado.
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+In the middle of a tornado the air is generally still,
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+but the great pressure of the wind on every side of the house raised it up higher and higher,
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+until it was at the very top of the tornado;
+NARRATOR (V.O.)
+and there it remained and was carried miles and miles away as easily as you could carry a feather.
+Dark. Wind. Dorothy on the kitchen floor, Toto beside her, the room tilting slowly; the house tips badly once, then rocks gently, like a cradle. She holds the table leg and rides it.
+Toto runs about the kitchen barking, now here, now there. Dorothy sits quite still on the floor and waits.
+DOROTHY
+It’s all right. We wait.
+The kitchen door has blown open on black roaring air. Toto too near it - and out.
+DOROTHY
+Toto—!
+Her face. Then one white ear sticking up over the sill, held by the wind. She creeps to the door, catches the ear, drags him in, and forces the door shut.
+Hours. Dorothy alone on the swaying floor, the wind shrieking, her hands over her ears. At last she crawls over the swaying floor to her little room at the back and lies down on her bed; Toto climbs up and lies down beside her.
+Her eyes close, and she sleeps.