Deep in the heart of the upland Yorkshire Dales, a thoroughly ordinary garden lizard named Lizzie found herself in a rather extraordinary predicament. She had always wondered if the grass truly was greener on the other side of the wall, but she had never expected to find out so suddenly. One afternoon, a violent gust of wind whirled her right off her favourite damp stone and straight into the sky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When Lizzie finally landed with a soft plop, she discovered that the grass on this side of the world was indeed an impossibly brilliant shade of emerald green. The sky was deeply blue, and the air smelled faintly of peppermint cream.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Chuffin’ ‘eck,\u2019 Lizzie muttered, flicking her tongue to taste the air. \u2018The turf is spectacular, but this definitely isn\u2019t Leeds.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Before she could properly adjust her reading glasses, a tiny man in a velvet waistcoat bustled out from a nearby foxglove.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Oh, thank goodness!\u2019 the little man cried, throwing his hands in the air. \u2018The prophecy is fulfilled! You have arrived to save us from the Wicked Witch of the West Midlands!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lizzie blinked her oversized eyes. \u2018I think there has been a dreadful misunderstanding. I am just Lizzie. I am a lizard.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The little man gasped, instantly falling to his knees. \u2018Did you hear that, everyone? She is the Great and Powerful Lizard of Oz! All hail the Lizard!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Within minutes, a small crowd had gathered, cheering and throwing confetti made of rose petals. Lizzie tried to explain that her greatest achievement to date was catching a particularly fat bluebottle fly, but her protests were drowned out by the applause.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Realising that a polite Yorkshire lizard could not simply walk away from such enthusiastic hospitality, Lizzie agreed to help them. She was told she must travel down the Bright Yellow Tarmac Road to meet the true ruler of the land, who might help her find a way back home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It wasn\u2019t long before her solitary march was interrupted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She hadn\u2019t gone a mile before she spotted a bright red, cast-iron pillar box vibrating violently in the hedge. As Lizzie peered closer through her glasses, a small brass hatch clicked open like a mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Oh, vertical drops and aggressive canine encounters!\u2019 the postbox rattled, its internal gears grinding with anxiety. \u2018I want to deliver the mail, truly I do, but I completely lack the proper stamp of courage! One loud bark and my sorting springs seize up entirely.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lizzie patted its cold iron dome. \u2018Nonsense, love. Come along. We\u2019ll see the governor, and I\u2019m sure we can get your paperwork sorted.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A few miles later, the duo came across a velvet wingback armchair blocking the path, its seat cushion sighing heavily. Scattered pages of the Daily Telegraph<\/em> surrounded it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018It\u2019s a tragedy, really,\u2019 the armchair groaned, shifting its springs uncomfortably. \u2018I am entirely stuffed with premium horsehair, yet I desperately want a brain so I can solve the daily crossword puzzle. Seven across is an absolute nightmare, and I haven\u2019t the foggiest clue.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Well,\u2019 Lizzie said, flicking her tongue thoughtfully, \u2018two heads, or a head and a cushion, are better than one. Join the queue.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n The final member of their cast was discovered hiding inside a hollow oak tree. It was a remarkably hefty bulldog, shivering so violently his jowls were flapping.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Don\u2019t look behind me!\u2019 the bulldog whined, burying his wrinkled face in his paws. \u2018It\u2019s following me! The shadowy beast moves whenever I move!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Lizzie looked at the pavement, then up at the dog. \u2018Erm, that\u2019s just your own shadow, mate.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018And it\u2019s terrifying!\u2019 the bulldog wept.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Right, then,\u2019 Lizzie said, taking charge as the eccentric group finally reached the grand gates of the Emerald City. \u2018Let us sort this business out.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n They were ushered into a grand, glittering throne room. At the far end, a massive, terrifying projection of a roaring dragon hovered in the air, surrounded by smoke and flashing green lights.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I AM OZ, THE GREAT AND POWERFUL!\u2019 the projection boomed, rattling the wall ornaments. \u2018WHO DARES APPROACH MY THRONE?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n The clockwork postbox trembled, the armchair quivered, and the bulldog hid entirely behind Lizzie. The lizard, however, merely sighed. Being a creature who spent most of her life hiding from lawnmowers in the garden, she was not easily impressed by theatrics. She scurried forward, ignoring the roaring flames, and slipped behind a large velvet curtain at the side of the stage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There, sitting at a small desk, was an elderly, flustered chameleon tapping furiously on a laptop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Excuse me,\u2019 Lizzie said, clearing her throat politely. \u2018You are making an awful racket.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n The chameleon jumped, accidentally turning himself a startled shade of plaid. \u2018Oh, dear! Please do not expose me! I am not a great dragon at all. I am just a master of disguise. I am a humbug!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Lizzie inspected the laptop, which was controlling the smoke machines and the projection. \u2018Well, that is quite clever, actually. But you really ought to be honest with the public. It is terribly bad manners to frighten people.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018And what about this Wicked Witch of the West Midlands, everyone is so worried about?\u2019 Lizzie added, crossing her front legs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The chameleon looked sheepish, his scales shifting to a dull grey. \u2018Ah, that was a complete misunderstanding, I\u2019m afraid. It is actually just my cousin Brenda from Birmingham. She has a terribly loud voice and a rather unfortunate habit of cackling when she laughs on the telephone, which the locals completely misread.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n The chameleon hung his head in shame. \u2018You are right, miss. I am terribly sorry. For creatures of our kind, like meself and poor Brenda, frightening people is usually the only way to get a bit of peace, but I do see that we have taken the theatricals a bit too far.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the end, the chameleon used his technology to book Lizzie a first-class ticket on a very large hot-air balloon heading towards Northern England. As Lizzie floated gently back towards her county, clutching a souvenir tea towel, she looked down at the shrinking emerald fields below. Oz was magnificent, and its grass was undoubtedly greener, but she decided she much preferred the honest, mossy grey of her own stone wall. She truly could not wait to get back home for a proper cup of Yorkshire tea.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Within minutes, a small crowd had gathered, cheering and throwing confetti made of rose petals. Lizzie tried to explain that her greatest achievement to date was catching a particularly fat bluebottle fly, but her protests were drowned out by the applause<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":3908,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[11,64,12],"tags":[147,148],"class_list":["post-3907","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-book","category-experimental-prose","category-yore","tag-lizzard","tag-oz"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3907","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3907"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3907\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3909,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3907\/revisions\/3909"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3908"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3907"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3907"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3907"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}