Of Orbs and Owl Feathers
A Christmas Story
(Poetry quoted from Sir Shotgun's "Dreams, Wishes, and Tears")
The Christmas tree was a dazzling array of lights. Shimmering reflections bounced from ornament to ornament, from cuddling penguins, to dancing polar bears. Sarah inhaled deeply. The rich scent of pine filled her lungs. The smell was both comforting and invigorating. It reminded her of holidays past, the warmth of family time and good friends coming to call; but it also made her think of the earth, strong and wild, a spiritual essence that gives life.
Next to Halloween, Christmas was Sarah's second favorite holiday. There was something magical about the lights glowing from roof ledges or peering out from behind spruce limbs. The anticipation of gifts, the thrill of wishes being granted filled the air with so much excitement that there was all most a crackling of electrical energy.
Plus, she was home; home, at the split level house with excessive floral décor, shiny wood floors, and a photographic perfection that was attributed to her stepmother's keen eye. One would never guess looking at the silk couch cushions, the clutter free dinning table, or the dust free fire mantle that a ten year old lived up stairs. A menace in a young boy's skin that ran through puddles, drug snow beyond the mud room, threw his clothes on the floor, and who had Sarah by her heart and soul. Toby. Her brother. She was home with him and her parents, and it felt wonderful.
The front door opened and a gust of bitter wind brought her out of her reverie. "Hey sis!" called Toby, tromping in, carrying a package under his arm.
Sarah cringed. "You better scat before Karen realizes you've come through the front door," she said. "She'll have a fit if you leave melted snow on the foyer rug."
Toby mumbled something unintelligible no doubt referring to his mother's 'anal retentiveness.' He slammed the door shut. "Yeah, yeah. Here this came for you." He hands her the package. "Do you know if there's any hot chocolate left?"
"Um, not sure. A package for me?"
Toby is all ready distracted, heading for the kitchen. "Ghads, it's cold out!"
Curious, Sarah looked at the package: her name, Sarah Williams, and address were printed in fine script. The S in her name was done with a fanciful swirl and there was even an ink splatter over a dotted i. 'Like it was written with a quill,' she thinks. 'No return address.' Gingerly, she gives it a shake: a faint rustling and a shift of something heavy. 'Funny, I didn't hear any delivery truck come by. And who delivers on Christmas Eve any how?'
She moved towards the kitchen. Toby had found some hot chocolate, as well as a bag of marshmallows and a package of Oreo cookies. "I know, I know," he says around a mouth full. "Don't let mom see me with so much chocolate."
"I won't breathe a word of it, so long as you give me a few of those cookies."
"Deal. What's in the box?"
Sarah shrugged. "No clue. Hand me the scissors? Thanks. Did you at least leave your snow boots in the mud room?"
"Of course! I don't need mom upset on Christmas Eve."
Snip, snip went the scissors. Sarah rolled her eyes. "Unlike last year."
"Hey, you don't know how brutal the neighborhood kids are! Tommy Hestler, freezes his snow balls!"
Last year, on the eve of Christmas no less, Toby had decided that in order to survive his winter break and the never ending snow ball fights that took place, he needed an arsenal. What better place to attack from than his second story bedroom window? As a result of this brilliant thinking, buckets of snow had to be brought up to his room, made into snow balls, and stored just outside on the roof. Between the heater being forced into over drive by the window being left open and the puddles of water up and down her stair case, Karen his mother was ready to with hold all toys and perhaps food for a whole other year.
Sarah eyed her brother with skepticism. Some days she wondered if that unfortunate night in his infancy had left some ill bred effect on him. The lid of the package loosened under her grip. "How are you surviving this year's campaign?"
"Dad let me use the wood shed. Plus I've got a secret weapon." He leaned across the counter. "Red food dye. Tommy Hestler is gonna freak! Hey cool ornament."
The package lay open on the counter. Sarah stared at it, unnerved and a bit scared. Nestled in folds of crimson red velvet sat a small orb. Its iridescent surface reflected her shocked face. 'No!' she thought frantic. 'It has been ten years!' She realized Toby was reaching into the box. "Don't touch it!" she screamed at him.
Too late. The orb dangled from Toby's finger. "Sorry. I just wanted to see it better," he said apologetically.
When nothing happened, Sarah exhaled in a rush. The orb was fixed with an eye hole and a piece of silver thread was looped through it. It was just an ornament. It was a pretty bauble for the tree. "I-," she stammered, trying to explain her sudden out burst. "Sorry. It's just that, well, it looks so delicate." It was like dealing with a ticking bomb: gingerly she placed it back in the folds. "Obviously expensive. I-I would hate for anything to happen to it. I'll just… go and put it…put it on the tree."
Ten years. It had been ten years. She clutched the box to her as if its contents might fly out at any given moment and begin wreaking some serious havoc. Ten years. What could he possibly want with her now? He. She couldn't even think his name! And Toby, who remembered nothing, who she had sheltered from any reminder, who she had been the best older sister to, Toby had touched the accursed thing! 'If that egotistical maniac, that sonofthebog Goblin King, even leaves a trace of glitter on him I'll-!' Hyperventilation was threatening her lungs and making her dizzy. Alone with the Christmas tree, she slumped to her knees and held her head in her hands.
Reason slowly came back. She hadn't thought to look for a card or some sort of a message. It could very well be just an ornament. A gift from some distant cousin who lived in Canada or some where obscure. Yes. It was from a relative that she hardly knew. She lifted the lid. The orb neither glowed nor hovered. Maybe Karen or her father would know something about it. Maybe.
Ten years. It hardly seemed likely the Goblin King would suddenly take interest in her again. Though, at the time ten years ago, he seemed to have had a good deal of interest in her. She thought about him again- his smile that always seemed to mock, his eyes that always seemed to laugh. There had been something challenging in his stance, daring her to retort or act. Sarah had long since admitted to her self that it had been her selfishness, her wish that had endangered Toby. Why Ja-, or rather the Goblin King had simply played his part. So what if one wintery evening he had been feeling nostalgic and had sent her a gift?
She picked up the orb and turned it in her hand allowing the rainbows to dance merrily across its surface. For a moment she saw her self again in that puff sleeved, sugar coated dress that accentuated her slender waist and displayed far too much of her chest and shoulders. His arm around her waist, holding her, leading her- the sensations came back in a rush. He had made that dress. He had put her on display. A coquet-ish maneuver or sincere flattery?
"No," she said out loud dropping her hand. "It's a stupid ornament." With a resigned sigh, she stood up and found a place on the tree for the orb.
Dinner passed without any goblins interfering or animated disjointed limbs dancing about. It was a proper Christmas Eve banquette. Karen, in true Good House Keeping style served three courses and insisted her son put his clothe napkin on his lap. They ate, laughed, and sang corals until the Eggnog ran dry. Sarah felt the familiar comfort of being at home, clung to it with fervor. This was enough. Her family, with their love and understanding, this was what she wanted. When Karen asked if she was dating anyone at the college, Sarah shrugged feigning disinterest. Not having any one to kiss under the mistletoe meant nothing compared to her family.
Her thoughts betrayed her though as she thought about the anonymous gift now hanging on the tree. It was hardly some gift from a distant relative; a fact she knew no matter how she reasoned through it. And this knowledge tickled a secluded, female portion of her that until now had never shown itself. How delicious it would be to say, "Why yes this is from my charming boyfriend. He enjoys dancing, singing, and prancing about in silk shirts and form fitting tights!" Sarah suddenly felt abashed. No, being home was enough. It had always been enough. Some stupid gift, ten years lagging, did not change that.
Her father was coming down the stairs. Toby had finally gone to bed and now the rest of the gifts could be brought out. All the other years Sarah had shied away from this ritual, going to bed at the same time her brother did, allowing her parents their secret joy. She didn't want to be alone with her thoughts, not this year. Her father looked mildly amused when she offered to help. "Finally giving up on Santa Clause, eh?" he teased handing her several boxes.
"Well, you know, some old guy giving me gifts? It's a little creepy." They laughed.
Karen took twenty minutes to arrange the gifts under the tree. Twenty minutes with her stepmother's OCD usually felt like eternity, but tonight it simply wasn't long enough. Karen could have taken until dawn and Sarah wouldn't have minded. Then when her parents began switching off lights and checking the dead bolts Sarah felt an unexplainable panic rise. "I'm not tired yet," she told them. "Leave the tree lights on. I'll take care of them later."
She intended to stay awake. Without much thought she took up a chair that allowed her to stare down the glass orb. If it was a goblin tainted gift, she would be ready to defuse any mischief. If it was only an ornament… 'I'll have a sore neck and a stiff back for Christmas.' She gave the orb a shrewd look. Whatever it was, wherever he was there was one thing she wanted; one wish she dared to have. "Be nice," she said out loud. She slid down in the chair and leaned her head back.
An hour ticked by. She stayed awake. Outside it began to snow again. The lights from the tree illuminated the window pains and she could see the soft flakes falling. Another hour and her eyes began to get heavy. The lights on the tree shimmered and danced. The orb was turning into one small ball of fuzzy light. Sarah tried to blink away the fuzz, but it stayed. It went from fuzzy to blurry. She closed her eyes and opened them again.
The tree was gone, as was the front room and all of her stepmother's floral decorations. She was at the neighborhood park. Why she had been here a million times! Over there though the trees one could see the clock tower's spire, and behind her was the lake. She turned- yes, there was the water lapping at the sloping shore line. And if she looked to her right there would be the stone bridge! And the obelisk! She suddenly felt quite giddy. Many times as a young girl she had come here to play act, her audience her loyal dog Merlin or the local squirrel population. Though there had also been that owl.
On cue there was a flapping of wings. Sarah spun around, smiling in expectance of the great white bird who had been her villain and her hero on many occasions. He had always sat so patient as she recited some dramatic monologue or pleaded with him to release a stolen infant.
Feathers fell, soft as snow from the sky, covering the green grass and caressing her skin. Where was he? Where was her owl? The flapping ceased and as the feathers cleared she made out a shape. A man was standing before her. A man she knew very well. A man whom she had not seen in ten years. "Jareth!" she said a bit breathless.
"Greetings Sarah." And he made a slight bow his blonde hair falling over his eyes. "Surprised?"
"Yes. Very."
"But not disappointed?"
She had expected mischief, something very gobliny, but this simple, elegant appearance was the last thing she could have thought of. It flustered her. She dodged his question. "Are we dreaming together? I mean, we are dreaming aren't we?"
"Sort of." He made an adjustment to his cape. Sarah realized that it was the same color as the owl feathers. No, more than that. It was as if his cape was the feathers. Every time his cape twitched, feathers would twirl in the air. "I take it you received my gift?"
"That bauble was from you!"
His grin was enough of an answer.
Sarah took in her surroundings again- the park filled with such pleasant memories and that powerful urge to see the owl again. Then she thought about Jareth giving her gifts and showing up in her dream. This man, this king was a fae, a creature of magic who by his very nature often tricked up humans. She was suddenly on her guard. "Wait. Why? Just what are you up to Jareth?"
She saw the squint around the corners' of his eyes. It was so slight, so quick that she couldn't be sure she had actually seen it. It was gone and he nonchalantly leaned his hand on his hip. "I need a reason to cross paths with an old adversary? It's Christmas Sarah! And no matter what any good Catholic says this holiday belongs to my kind."
"Are you saying it was just a gift?"
"Nothing more."
He had sent her a gift. That realization was rather nice, she decided. "Oh, well, thank you."
"Though I must admit that it's not entirely innocent."
Here was the goblin mischief she had been expecting. She tensed.
"Calm yourself Sarah. Tonight I come waving a white flag. I come to remember."
He had walked away from her surveying the park. Owl feathers clung to him, tangled in his hair, and swept the ground as he moved. "When you asked if we were dreaming my answer was rather evasive. Are we on any mortal plain? No. But are we thoroughly conscious of our situation? Yes. What happens here will stay with us when we part."
"Jareth, I don't understand."
"No, how could you?"
She heard the slight laugh, tight behind his closed lips. This was not the Jareth from ten years ago. Despite the sarcasm that endured this was a guarded Goblin King. The old Jareth would have baited her, had her nearly aflame with indignation and pride. But this one… 'It's all most as if he wants to just talk with me.'
"Did you know, Sarah, that every ten years a fae is granted a wish? One wish for whatever he may desire."
"No I didn't know that. But I hardly see what that has to do with me."
Still he kept his back towards her. "I could have wished for gold, or a consort, anything I desired." He faced her, squared his shoulders and smiled. "So here we are."
Sarah glanced around still confused. When a sort of understanding began to form in her head she shied away from it; no, more like coiled away. Impossible. A man like Jareth the Goblin King didn't waste ten years on pining for a mortal and especially a mortal of her caliber- an adversary! She met his eyes. There was that slight taunt squint again. "Me?" she asked.
He had moved two steps closer. Now she could see details on a few of the owl feathers- grey spots, streaked with bronze. "My fondest memory of you that is what I wished for. A sentimental, perhaps even silly wish, but mine to make nonetheless. Have you not noticed Sarah how you are dressed?"
For the love of Mike- he had her in her old renaissance princess costume. The folds of sturdy fabric covered her from head to foot. Sarah looked at her self a bit uneasy and a bit… something else. That small female part of her that had made an unannounced appearance earlier in the evening was back. It wanted to roll with giddy glee and smile. Sarah wanted to hide. Had he really been the owl in the park? Had he seen her at her silliest? She couldn't comprehend such things. "Jareth you didn't wish for this, did you?"
He looked away from her, refusing to meet her eyes. "It is how I like to remember you."
She laughed, taken aback at his confession.
"You dare laugh at me when I am being so vulnerable?"
"No, no, I'm sorry! It's just that, well, that I thought you would want to remember me in that ball gown you made for me."
"That ridiculous concoction of moon beams and sugar? No, my dear one, that was your wish, not mine. You wanted to be treated like a royal princess, so I created the most honey filled illusion of tulle, lace, and chiffon all for your enjoyment."
"Oh."
He hesitated and then added, "Which is not to say that I didn't enjoy you in it. You looked…"
"Pretty?" she prompted.
"Nay, beautiful, enough to make any courtier jealous. But this." He paused and fingered the end of her long sleeve. "Is how I remember you the most. You would talk to me for hours, unabashed and passionate. Some times you would come for days on end, often until far past the respectable hour and I would dine on your voice."
'Imagine having a boyfriend who said such things to you all of the time?' she thought in a rush. That little female side had invaded her brain and taken temporary control. His voice had grown intimate and husky. To her he was suddenly quite masculine. It was all most unbearable having him so close yet without any contact. It would be wrong to assume anything. 'He wished to see me again and well, he's seeing me.' Though, she knew, his hair running through her hands would be downy soft just like the owl feathers and the touch of his skin would be electric.
"So you wished just to see me again?" she managed to ask.
"Uh-huh," he hummed.
"Shame, you should have been a bit more specific in your wishing."
Had that been the female side of her or her own doing? The words had come out so flirtingly, so tauntingly that she bit her lip the moment they were out.
"Well that's the funny thing about wishes, see, they are fickle things, often willful or misbehaving. I had to see you again." His fingers were on her cheek. "To look in your face and know whether or not you've thought of me these ten years."
He was going to kiss her. But there were things he needed to know. "I tried to forget you, but I couldn't. Jareth, I couldn't forget you. I can't have a boyfriend, I can't date, and it's all because of you."
"I waited too long." He was holding her face now, tenderly as if he might break her. "Much too long."
And he did kiss her. He poured his very being in to her- she could taste his age, his ancient race; he left traces of bitter earth and sweet rain. If she could know his soul then it would be the taste he left on her lips. And how gentle he was. With his hand he traced her jaw line and throat, became acquainted with every strand of hair on her head. He made her tremble with each caress.
Then she was falling, falling into softness. Her body was warm and she felt secure and loved. When someone suddenly began shaking her shoulder she started awake confused and disoriented. Jareth's arms were supposed to be around her. And where were the owl feathers? Her eyes focused: early, weak day light was forcing its way through the front window and Toby and shaking her shoulder.
"Sarah! Sarah, wake up!"
"Huh?"
"Wake up, it's Christmas!"
She thought a long list of curse words; words that she had seen scrawled on bathroom walls, heard in dirty movies she never wanted her father to know she had watched, words that were hardly in the Christmas spirit. Disappointment raged inside her. How could he? Kiss and leave- it was cruel! How easily she had let her guard down simply because he had said something poetic and romantic. Her eyes found the cursed orb, light refracting along its surface causing flashes of dancing beams. She bit her lip and took a deep breath.
Toby must not know.
Later when their parents came down Karen forced coffee on her, claiming that her funk must have been caused by sleeping down stairs. Her father turned up the heat to add extra comfort. Sarah took it all in quiet, measured strides. She wanted to smash the orb and possibly forget about Christmas all together. The sight of her brother though made her simply dig her nails in to the palm of her hand instead.
"Sarah, you nearly threw away this note! It was in the box that arrived yesterday."
Karen had the delivery box in her hand and was holding out a piece of folded paper. There hadn't been any sort of note yesterday. Eagerly Sarah snatched it up.
"If wishes were given to a lonely man and I was given just two, I'd wish for you to always love me and the other I'd give to you."
If she had a single wish, just one more opportunity he would be here now. The complications, the differences, the danger, the unknown, the "anything" wouldn't matter. She heard her stepmother move into the foyer- someone was knocking on the door. That would be her wish. Jareth, here. Karen was back in the room. "Sarah, there's someone here to see you."