What We’re Reading: House of D’Antonio

House of D'Antonio

The views shared throughout this review are solely the opinions of Blu Moon Fiction Staff. As always, we recommend reading the book for yourself and should you disagree with our views we encourage you to tell us. The reviews published by Blu Moon Fiction have been read for content, spelling and grammar.

The very first thing I noticed when receiving my copy of, The House of D’Antonio by Reece Cooper James, was the beautiful cover. The young woman on the cover is very striking and the translucent figure gives a sense that something of the paranormal may be happening.

Flipping to the back of the book we read of Roman D’Antonio king of Brocklehurst and surviving ruler of the House of D’Antonio. He alone is charged with traveling through dimensions to seek out Abigail, whose bloodline is the key to breaking the D’Antonio curse. Abigail has been bred to understand her family’s legacy as one of great responsibility; in her world she envisions Roman as her imaginary friend. From the explanation you should infer  this novel is one that features the two meeting and blending worlds in a way that either successfully ends the curse or doesn’t. Unfortunately, that is not what you get.

The most noticeable thing when you open the book is the possibly triple spaced layout. There are a few minor typos that can be overlooked if you desire to power through. If layout doesn’t put you off and for some people it may, then continue reading and learn all about  Abigail “Abi”Trenaulde.

Jodi’s Kill – An excerpt from the Novel Globes Disease

By: Lance Oliver Keeble
Jodi Sakarui considered herself a bit of a rebel. Her family were conformists, at least that’s how Jodi saw it. Compared to her family and their traditions, she was a black sheep. Even though there were better, more positive words in Japanese for rebel, she often heard the word “Gaijin” (foreigner). It was a terrible name to call a Japanese person. That, among other words she preferred not to think of, only inspired her to rebel that much more. Her family lived in a two story Victorian in La Mort Douce. The exterior looked like a traditional home from those stupid black and white movies she had seen on TNT. The moment you walk in, the looks and smells were that of any from the Homeland. Which homeland? Japan? As far as Jodi was concerned, Japan was not her home.

 “Why should I follow tradition?” Jodi mulled, “For fuck sakes we have been in America for four generations. Grand-Dad was put in the American camps, what? Like a million years ago? Back in 1942 or some shit like that, right? For all intents and purposes, I am an American now. Shit! Who am I kidding, who looks at my round face, yellow tinged skin and almond shaped eyes and thinks American? I am no more a Japanese than I am American. How many Asian women have been crowned Ms. America? Two?” Jodi thought sarcastically.

At 16, Jodi looked 13 and often dressed a lot younger. Imagine a gothic catholic schoolgirl. She often wore pigtails captured in red bows, black pleated skirts, patent leather boots, leggings, her arms covered in torn lace and uniform shirts in whatever color fit her mood. Jodi smoked cigarettes and marijuana, drank beer, cut up in school, and fought regularly. All in rebellion against her buttoned down upbringing. Her mother refused to give her a car like the rest of her friend’s parents, so she rode her skateboard wherever she was inclined to go. She found it funny to show up at family functions, dressed like a punk rocker or a Goth-Girl. In fact, she had even considered being a Suicide Girl, but even that seemed conformist at present, beside, it wasn’t as if she would make the Showtime special.

She scoured the web site and became elated by what she read. She saw every color, every hue and every size girl you could imagine. When the two TV specials came out, she freaked. She was beyond excited, she TiVo’d both of them, waited until her mother was asleep and watched them back-to-back. What a fucking surprise; they were all white and skinny on the show! ‘Oh God! Jodi’s thinking was excessively negative, and her thoughts were making her want to throw up. 

“Fuck this!” she thought, “It’s time to get out”. Night skating wasn’t new to Jodi. She did it all the time. In fact, the night she got attacked was a night she had climbed out the window and headed to the skate park. That didn’t stop her though. The weather was just beginning to warm up, spring was approaching and the moon lit up everything like the overhead lights at the basketball court opposite where she skated. It certainly was easier than trying to skate during the day and having to fight with the other kids who asked her questions like, why she was there or if she was waiting for her boyfriend. When they found out she was a Bowl Rider, she was cool until, they realized she could out skate them. Then they wanted to kick her ass or told her to, Fuck Off! Mostly they just assumed she played for the “other team” and shunned her completely and called her a dyke.

Jodi didn’t like being discriminated against. Especially by people who had no more claim to the sport of skating and surfing than she did. Jodi remembered once being told that California skaters were inspired by surfing and surfing is Hawaiian. Jodi didn’t even know if that was true, but it fueled her indignation. She told herself to, “Snap out of it! Concentrate, open the window and bail quietly.” All this thinking was a distraction, it caused her to feel worse. Jodi resolved to revel in being an outsider. Jodi collected herself, grabbed her board and her backpack and climbed out of her window into a night lit by a perfectly round moon.

All the dogs in the neighborhood were howling as she made her escape. She closed the window quickly so the sounds wouldn’t carry through the house. Jodi never considered that the howling could have been a warning of danger or anything else; she was intent on her mission tonight. She had been on her computer all day waiting to see if any sexual deviants would hit her up. Finally, some old pervert did. She was going to exact justice like that TV show, but she would do it better than Chris Hansen and with no budget or studio backing. 

Jodi recalled the night of her accident. She remembered skating through the tunnel, on her way home from the park, when she’d seen this rad looking guy smoking a joint. The hairs on the back of her neck had tingled a bit, but Jodi ignored the feeling because the guy seemed so cool. He’d worn a long, dark coat, like those guys in old black and white movies or those vampires in movies where the super-hero guy with a sword hunts them. He was sexy, dangerous looking and strangely inviting with the aura of a man who could sweep a girl off her feet. She had wanted to see more of this man’s face. So she thought, “What the hell”. Jodi slowed down, picked up her board, and walked over to him; swaying her hips in an oft practiced sexy walk. She quietly cleared her throat and in her most seductive voice, asked him if he had any matches.

Instead of reaching in his pocket for a light, the mystery man had grabbed her with a smooth swiftness that completely startled her. Initially Jodi had frozen, but then her survival instincts kicked in. She’d hit him with her board, elbowed his throat, and given him every move that had saved her before with guys who’d gotten out of line. “Shit!” He was the strongest person she had ever encountered. When she finally saw his face, all she could focus on was his eyes. They were dark, cold and deadly staring back at her. The veins in the whites of his eyes had appeared to grow with every pulse of her heart. With no effort at all, he’d lifted her, embraced her like a child and moved to lay her down. Jodi had thought then that it was all over. She’d be raped then killed and her body left in that tunnel. Fear consumed her. She thought about all the stupid things she had done; defying her parents, skating through that tunnel, talking to the gorgeous killer. She’d wiggled and squirmed, but nothing had freed her from his grasp.

Her heart had raced, adrenaline had made her temples ache and she’d squeezed her eyes shut; tight enough to add to the throbbing pain in her skull. She had known her life was over but she could neither face her killer nor certain demise. She had realized pretty quickly that she was his prey and he would never let her go. Jodi’s heart had beat double-time as his cold, stale breath moved closer. Directly over her, she had heard the most guttural, unholy growl she’d ever heard in her short life. Her attacker had looked up, snarled and hissed in response. She’d dared to open her eyes when his grip loosened. In an instant, things had changed. Suddenly, Jodi’s attacker had become the prey.

The impact of what hit them had tossed her into a wall. Jodi had lain there with cuts and bruises from head to toe; bleeding through her clothes onto the cold concrete. Her pain had somehow overcome her delirium and kept her awake long enough to smell the oddest scent she had ever inhaled. Not simply animal yet not simply man, but a raw, metallic mixture of both. The tunnels fluorescent lighting had been poor, so she had only seen shadowy forms dancing in a deadly whirl of snarls and violence. The battling figures had resembled a scene from Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah. “Stupid movie, why in the hell would that come to mind?” Jodi wondered just before she blacked out.

The rest of that experience remained foggy. When had the ambulance come? Who’d called them? Why wasn’t she dead? While the rape kit hadn’t shown signs of sexual assault, Jodi had still felt violated. She never understood why the doctors and nurses repeatedly said she only had bumps and bruises, “How the hell did I heal so fast?” she wondered, “I was shredded”. She remembered looking up inside the ambulance when she’d heard the sirens; she had been bleeding from cuts, bites and scratches over her entire body. Jodi still felt the scars, even after the physical evidence had disappeared. 

Jodi was already harboring anger and the attack served only to fuel her fire. She continued to channel her anger by combing the Internet looking for him and predators like him. Jodi overwelhmingly felt the need to get even. 

The cold night air shook her from her memories and puckered her skin. Parts of her that weren’t covered with clothing seemed more sensitive to the frosty air. The click clack of the wheels from her board bounced off the concrete. Night was so much more still than day to her. Jodi could tell Indian Summer was almost over; the air felt crisper, cooler. Jodi felt alive at night, even more so after the attack. She seemed more sensitive to everything. She found herself picking up a cacophony of sounds from traffic, sirens, street voices, wind, rustling leaves and so much more. All of them seemed to assault her hearing.

All those sounds together resembled the hushed murmur often heard during a school play. It had been a little less than a year since that frightful night. While Jodi had survived the experience, she was worse off for it, as she had become even angrier. She thrived in the night and enjoyed the potential danger. In fact, Jodi welcomed it. 

Jodi turned in at the park, headed over towards the swings, and carelessly kicked the dew dampened sand around, keeping her eyes out for needles and doggie bombs left by the local addicts and yuppy puppies. She settled onto a damp plastic swing in her punk skirt and kicked herself back and forth for a while. Eventually she stopped her momentum with her feet, reached in her jacket pocket and pulled out some envelopes wrapped in old rubber bands. Out fell a carefully torn advertisement she’d found in the back of the free newspaper. It read, “Globes Disease, do you have it? Do you black out? Do you wake up in strange places? Do you have unexplained fits of rage? Do you heal faster than normal? If you answered yes to these questions, you may have Globes Disease. Call us, direct or collect, at 1-518-555-9653 or visit our website at WWW.GlobesDisease.com.” 

Jodi picked up the crumpled ad and put it back in her pocket. She unbound and examined the letters. All had return addresses from Japan. Most of the letters were in Kanji, except the envelopes themselves. Some pages were in English and those were for her. They were all from Jon Ichiban Sakarui. Jodi was annoyed. Her mother neither said anything positive about her father nor let on that he even cared enough to make contact. She realized he wasn’t perfect or as buttoned down as her mother’s family. He was like her, Next-Gen Japanese. For the first time in her life, Jodi didn’t feel as different after reading the letters. She was not in search of validation through older men. She had a father; she did not need a perv to be her daddy figure. Jodi felt anger and resentment for her mother gaining ground inside her.  

When Jodi found the letters earlier that day and confronted her mother about them, it did not go well. Her mother threw out words like Haji, which means shame, claiming she was trying to save her from the influence by the new ways of western culture. “That is such bullshit! Isn’t pinning all your unrealized hopes and dreams on your children some kind of child abuse?” Jodi was furious and didn’t want anything to do with her family. She hated them almost as much as she hated the crusty old fucks that derived pleasure from feeling up young girls. “HAH! My mother wants to protect me from the new ways, but the old ways are fucking me up more than western culture ever could.” Jodi’s thoughts drifted again. She told herself, “They will all pay.” She was gonna take out this one last pervert, then her family and when she was done she would call and find out about this Globes Disease thing.

With luck, being a minor would keep her from the electric chair. Telling the authorities about her affliction might get her labeled crazy and earn her a stay in the loony bin for a while. Nevertheless, at 18, she could claim she’d been cured of her psychoses and be released with her records sealed. When all this was over, she would go to Japan, seek out her father, start a new life and finally be happy. She understood many Japanese left Japan for smaller towns and rural areas, because the big cities in Japan had caught up with the western world and their modern ways. Many of those cities had become so modern, there was no way the residents could live life in the old way. Cities like Osaka, which is where she would go.

A sedan pulled up and ended her daydreaming. A businessman exited the vehicle, approached her quietly and sat on the swing adjacent to her. Jodi’s rage began to build, bubbling like an ancient volcano. She would use her entire teenage lifetime and focus it on this moment. She held herself in check for this purpose. She needed to maintain control. Jodi felt his excitement grow as she acknowledged him with a nod. The night air was thick with tension. Jodi’s skin heated, causing steam to rise from her skin. She held back just a bit longer, like a child who desperately had to pee, but had to finish the next level of a video game before going. She needed that ache, that urging pain before she could issue her brand of judgment. The man leaned closer; a buttoned-up wolf in sheep’s clothing. He would soon discover who the real wolf was. She reminded herself to lock into her mind that while she was in her mindless rage to be sure to visit her mother. The time had arrived and this creep was the catalyst Jodi required. Jodi was ready to rid herself of all the adults who would do her harm. As she readied her mind and stoked her rage, Jodi could hear the thump of her own heartbeat. The last thing Jodi remembered feeling was the stranger touching her leg; the last thing Jodi heard was this perverted stranger’s scream…

April Author: Lance Oliver Keeble

lance oliver keeble 1

American author; Lance Oliver Keeble has a passion for the arts, but his talent for creating realms of fantasy have given him a particular niche. A long time fan of the Sci – Fi/Fantasy genres, in his youth he continuously practiced his prose by writing lyrics, poetry, and short stories.lance oliver keeble 3

For over three year’s Lance has written superhero comic strips for three trade magazines. He is currently developing one of his comics into a Graphic Novel as well as working on the editing stages of the prequel to his current novel Globes Disease.

Lance has published poetry in anthologies and magazines; and continues to write and submit short stories, he’ll be penning the 3rd book in his Globes Diseases series soon.

Some of his favorite authors include; Nnendi Okorafor , Stephen King, Neil Gaiman, Clive Barker, and his 6th cousin six times removed, Edgar Allen Poe. (allegedly)

Lance credits his mother for encouraging his love of books and writing. He continues to live in Los Angeles with his wife and daughter; is a Father of 7 and a Grandfather of 4.

What We’re Reading – American Gods

American-Gods-neil-gaiman-657066_600_860

 

I’d been really hype, I’d managed to grab tickets to a literary event in Atlanta and was determined to seem farther along in my business than I was at current. I was going to read up on black authors and authors in my genre, I was going to devour novels like a starving man stranded in the desert. I had been pouring over lists and catalogues for days compiling my shining achievement a Must Read list of 50 books specifically from the Urban Fantasy genre.

This is my swimming pool. I’m a fairy following, vampire documenting witch, with an affinity for the elements and an unnatural affinity for speaking to the GODS. I create them, and their worlds manifest themselves in my memory. I’ve traveled through earth, around it and above, my realm has spanned the cosmos and interrupted normal time patterns.

Yet, after spending half a salary on new books to begin my new expedition into a world of Gods and monsters I found myself staring at the same 3 pages for at least a month. I couldn’t get into the story, the character of Shadow didn’t really grab me. The mystery of American Gods was eluding me.

It opened simple enough , plopping us at the end of a prison sentence; we meet Shadow a young man who’s looking forward to a life of vanilla normalcy once he finishes his time for armed robbery. His wife Laura will be waiting as will his old job. He even picked up a new hobby, he’s recently become infatuated with coin tricks.

A few anecdotes aside, the first chapter or so of American Gods wasn’t enough to pull me in. The book sat closed bookmarked by a transpass for another month or so. Mid July I did manage to make it to chapter 3. The most profound moment at that point; had been reading and then visualizing a woman, who had literally consumed a guy with her womanly virtues. It was this moment that hooked me, i’d been dying to learn more about this Goddess, to discern why she posed as a prostitute and to discover who she’d really been.

Much like  during my time with the Nicholas Flamel series, I found myself researching the Gods origins. As mythic fiction is more my passion, seeing how others write it intrigued me. I’m still reserving all my opinions until I get to the end ofo the book, but the slow set up would definitely be something I’d change in my novels.

Gradually I began to see a true backstory, the world outside the world of Shadow the grieving convict. The world as it was for Wednesday his mysterious new employer. It’s obvious that Wednesday is one of the afformentioned Gods on the cover. He reserved in providing information but happily drags Shadow along to meet a hosts of characters. There is a significance in the coins that I feel speaks to Shadows true nature, but even now I’m not sure what or who he is really supposed to be.

Shadow wins a coin from a self – proclaimed leprachaun after a bar fight and he gives that coin to Laura at her funeral.  I am familiar with the tradition of leaving coins over the eyes of the dead to pay their passage into the underworld. However, I am unsure how I feel about gifting a magicalk coin to you alduturous dead ex-wife.

It seems to bring her back to life somehow, as Laura acts as a sort of ghostly guradian angel, literally murdering to keep Shadow safe.

I stopped last night two pages into chapter 7. The book has over 600 pages and I’m on 157. Originally I thoguht i’d be done the book by August and as of august 16, i’m about 25% through. Here are my take aways at this point.

There is an underlying war that may or may not be happening between the Gods of Myth and the new gods of what i believe to be “Technology” and “Money” or something along those lines. CIA style drones Wood and Stone beat poor Shadow silly during interrogation which ends with one’s death at the hands of Laura. It is definitely becoming interesting but it does drag a bit. I’ll continue to crawl through the chapters. I’m looking forward to seeing how this plays out.

My 2016 Reading Challenge!!!

Earlier this year I wanted to really commit to making myself a better writer. As my high school writing teacher would say writers –write, and therefore to become better writers you must read and then write some more. Who knew that while i was rolling my eyes then I’d be going back to those words now. In the thick of writing my very first trilogy I find myself grasping at anything not a research book to read. My imagination was truly becoming depleted. It was then that I decided to go back to the list of books I wanted to read. Initially I compiled the list for research. When deciding to write a book you have to decide on a genre and my genre is Urban Fantasy. I jumped in head first adding any book that seemed remotely interesting. Some titles sounded familiar though I hadn’t had the pleasure of reading them. They went on the list. Other novels i’d never heard of an hadn’t known they even existed. They also went on the list. I spent a large portion of time looking into Mythic Fiction. As my sub-genre it’s good to know the competition and what ideas have already been tried. At one point my boyfriend the afro-centric individual that he is commented about a lack of African American representation in my genre which sent me down a path to find not only black characters but black authors as well. The effort was definitely worth it. When i finished i’d collected more than 50 books in which to read this year. My 2016 goal is still 50 books of the Urban Fantasy genre. At present I’m starting with Neil Gaiman’s “American Gods”.  I’m attempting to read at least two books a month. Wish me luck!

 

Feel free to start on this list where ever you choose!

 

50 books I want to read over the next year.

 

  1. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland – Lewis Carrol
    1. Through the looking glass (sequel)
  2. Moon Called:Mercy Thomspon  Book #1- Patricia Briggs
  3. Dead Witch Walking: The Hollows Book #1 – Kim Harrison
  4. American Gods #1 – Neil Gaimen
  5. Mistborn:The Final Empire
  6. The lies of Locke Lamora:Gentleman Bastard Book 1 – Scott Lynch
  7. Vampire Kisses:Book 1 – Ellen Schraiber
  8. Sister Sable: The Mad Queen #1 –
  9. The Magicians – Lev Grossman
  10. Modern Faierie Tales – Holly Black
  11. Iron Thorn – Caitlyn Kittredge
  12. The Name in the Wind – Patrick Rothfus
  13. Practical Magic – Alicia Hoffman
  14. Courting Darkness – Yasmine Galenorn
  15. Something Wicked – Catherine Mulvany
  16. Divine by Mistake – PC Cast
  17. Woven – Michael Jensen and David Powers
  18. The Mephisto Covenant – Trinity Faegan
  19. Dancer’s Lament – Ian C Esslemont
  20. Age of Myth – (Book One of the First Empire Series) – Michael J Sullivan
  21. The Cainsville series Book#1- Kelly Armstrong
  22. The Conjure Woman – Charles Chestnutt
  23. Kindred – Octavia Butler (Showed up on various sites)
  24. The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms – N.K. Jemisin
  25. Who Fears Death – Nnedi Okorafor
  26. The First Law Trilogy by Joe Abercrombie
  27. Brandon Sanderson’s The Way of Kings
  28. Anansi Boys – Neil Gaiman
  29. Vampire Huntress  – L.A. Banks
  30. Amber and the Hidden City by Milton Davis
  31. Knights of Breton Court (series) by Maurice Broaddus
  32. Brookwater’s Curse (series) by Steven Van Patten
  33. Immortal (series) by Valjeanne Jeffers
  34. Brown Girl in the Ring by Nalo Hopkinson
  35. Taurus Moon (series) by D.K. (Keith) Gaston
  36. The Brothers Jetstream: Leviathan by Zig Zag Claybourne
  37. Redeemer: The Cross Chronicles by Balogun Ojetade
  38. African Immortals Series – Tananarive Due
  39. My Soul to Keep – Tananarive Due
  40. So Long Been Dreaming: Postcolonial Science Fiction & Fantasy
  41. Mindscape – Andrea Hairston
  42. Filter House – Nisi Shawl
  43. The Lunar Chronicles – Marissa Meyer
  44. Shards and Ashes – Anthology (Melissa Marr, Kelley Armstrong etc.)
  45. The testing – Joel Charbonneau
  46. Superhuman – Michael Carroll
  47. Vampyres of Hollywood – Adrienne Barbeau, Michael Scott
  48. Etruscans: Beloved of the Gods – Morgan Llywelyn, Michael Scott
  49. The drafter – Kim Harrison
  50. Undead and Unwed:A Queen Betsy Novel – Mary Janice Davidson
  51. Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake Series
  52. Jennifer L. Armentrout’s Wait For You
  53. Jamie McGuire’s Beautiful Disaster
  54. Colleen Hoover’s Slammed
  55. Cora Carmack’s Losing It.

The Little Red Hen

Little Red Hen and Bread

It started with a cream cheese garlic spread I’d made on Easter. I’d been craving it and all I needed to finish it off was a piece of bread. It’d been a few days since I’d shopped and sadly I had none. My friend Tam was over and she is a vegetarian. I felt it’d be rude to eat the chicken pasta I had in the fridge and I secretly wanted the rest of my spread. I’d planned to make bread at some point as I have a passion for baking and this seemed like the perfect moment. I asked if she wanted to help and she happily agreed. While I set out the ingredients for the bread, we’d decided to modify a garlic Little Red Hen Book 2bread stick recipe to suit our needs. I started thinking of one of my favorite childhood fables; “The Little Red Hen”. An avid user of the phrase, “not I says the cat” a residual verbal tick I picked up from repeated usage.

I wondered if my friend, fellow nerd and book lover had ever heard of the child hood story. It turns out she had and it was also a favorite of hers.

“The Little Red Hen” is all about a little hen who finds some grain. Her goal to make some bread, but first she has to grow the grain into the wheat and so on and so forth. Along the way she runs into other characters of the farm; all whom refuse to help in growing the grain to make the bread.Bread 1 Over time the hen harvests her wheat and makes her bread and of course all the farm animals wanted some of the it. Unlike the mushy goo of Disney’s children stories modified for a more delicate generation this fable ends with the little red hen devouring the bread all by her lonesome while the lazy animals watched.

This moral story of  hard work and the consequences of laziness most likely originated in Russia. The popular US version I remember, written by Margot Zemach was published by Little Golden Books. Our story was more about hunger and the desire to work out of laziness. (I’d refused to walk to the supermarket around the corner) Tam actually helped me make the bread and so had a few helpings herself.

We are Wicked in July!!!

wickedThis month we’re reading Wicked, written by author Gregory Maguire. It follows the life and historical demise of the infamous Wicked Witch of the West. The story is set in the a new version of Oz far from the warm and fuzzy rendition we’re used to. Originally published in 1995, the book is now a full series. I had only heard of the musical first. As a student at a performing arts school, “Defy Gravity” and Idina Menzel were my only references to the character of “Elfaba”. That being said i must now admit i have also never seen the full musical but I have captured scenes of it off on Youtube.

The series has been on my To Read list since 2005, and finally a full decade later I canIdina-Wicked-2 say i’ve cracked the spine of a borrowed copy from a co-worker. I will be adding the musical to my must watch list but for now let’s get to the book. “Wicked”, is nothing like it’s L. Frank Bean’s, “Wizard of Oz” and is in fact more like a prequel to the adventure of Dorothy and Friends. Our protagonist is, Elfaba the so-called “Wicked” witch in a time of civil unrest in Oz. The heroes we love, like Glinda and even the Wizard are given darker overturns as the novel challenges you to pick a side.

The opening scene brings us in the midst of a conversation between Dorothy and friends on their familiar voyage through the woods during “The Wizard of Oz”. Elfaba is concealed in a tree spying as they quite explicitly gossip about her origins. This mature adaptation of a childhood classic definitely lays the foundations for readers to quickly abandon memories of Judy Garland cradling her frightened Cairn Terrier , (yes that’s the specific breed of dog TOTO was.) and places you in the ruby red slippers of one of fiction’s greatest villains.

Wicked Musical
For more on the Wicked Witch of the West, check out the full article on our Origins blog!