Unspoken Wishes
By Robin Cabe
Chapter One
Happily Ever After
Sarah stepped out of the pulsating building and smoothed her shirt. Behind her a night club roared with music, dance, and merriment. The black sky flickered a few masked stars in the illuminated sky. Bright lights from all the euro-clubs created a false daytime and projected eerie shadows across the sidewalk.
Inside the club Sarah's former classmates continued their drunk stupor. She had excused herself to go back to the apartment that they had rented, a nice flat with a view of the Mediterranean Sea that was just up the street from the nightlife of Malaga, Spain. Sarah was never much for alcohol and had grown weary of the vague way her friends had become from the smoke and drink, so she left them together with another sensible friend so she could return to the apartment and rest. She had become slightly tipsy from three shots and a few drinks her friends ordered her, and it had made her feel entirely too sleepy. The smoke in the air had sent her head spinning and logged her chest with ash, so the fresh salt breeze felt even more intoxicating.
She stumbled along the uneven sidewalk, looking more drunk than she actually was, and soon came to the lobby of their rented apartment. All around her the nightlife was buzzing and, as she had noticed, smoking. She coughed feebly while passing a smoking couple and wandered to the lifts. She pushed a button illuminating the number eleven and swayed as the floor lifted. She was alone now, and reached into her bra to remove the key to their room along with seven euros and twenty cents. She also had a paper copy of her passport, a rather uncomfortable padding along her breasts. She snickered at the amount of items with which she had lined her bra, and was glad to not have to be constantly watching a purse.
One last ping and the doors slid open. She stumbled down the hall and to the left; no, right, and opened the door to the room. She immediately kicked off her heels and hopped into the shower. Cold water refreshed her and washed the gray soot from her hair. It brought her mind to the rain, and wished silently for blessed storm clouds to break the heat. She didn't like the sun much anyway, and wanted to witness a tropical storm.
Sarah wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel and went to her drawer to find something to wear. The cold water woke her up considerably, so she decided to make some tea and sit on the balcony. Glancing out the window, she realized that a wind had picked up and that the sky was beginning to blot away with clouds. It was still warm, so she pulled on some black silk shorts and a lacy camisole.
In the kitchen, Sarah found the red tea kettle and put some water on to boil. She walked over to the balcony and opened the door. A fierce gust of wind rustled the curtains and shook the tapestry on the wall. She quickly stepped outside and shut the door carefully behind her.
The view was completely romantic. Lights sparkled along the coastline and the lighthouse on the peninsula flicked around in steady circles. Cruise ships lumbered along in the distance, their light adding to the glow of the area. Below, music from several clubs and a casino echoed through the streets. The gentle murmur of traffic on the highway behind the apartments blended with the soft lapping of the waves breaking by the shore.
Three weeks ago, Sarah had graduated from college. She was now twenty-three and mature beyond her years. She had completed a double-major in English and Theatre and won several awards for performances both in and out of school. Her English professor had given a speech commemorating her for her short stories and praised her unpublished novel about a girl and a fantasy kingdom. He had compared it to The Chronicles of Narnia and Alice in Wonderland, each works which she highly respected. He hoped she would find the courage to have it published, but she still insisted that it was too close to her heart to share with more than her close friends. Nevertheless, everything she had ever wanted was falling into place in surreal perfection.
Now, alone in the apartment, Sarah felt a complete failure. She realized that the alcohol could have depressed her, but all-in-all she was unhappy. Five friends had decided to take the trip to Spain: two couples and Sarah. It had rarely bothered her that she did not date; guys just never seemed to take an interest in her. She had engaged in brief relationships, but always felt as if she were betraying herself. She enjoyed the thrill of a relationship, but whenever she was with a boy she felt somehow hypocritical.
She took some therapy with a psychiatrist earlier in the year. He suggested that maybe she was a lesbian or bisexual, to which she replied no. She certainly had an attraction toward men, but not any she had met. The shrink asked Sarah about her dreams, literally, and told her to begin keeping a diary about her nighttime fantasies. At this point she had stopped seeing the psychiatrist, because she could not reveal her dreams to anyone without giving away her most precious secret.
She thought back to eight years ago, when she had just turned fifteen. That was when they began. She remembered the labyrinth with such clarity and her dreams all seemed to stem from her adventure. She remembered her friends, Hoggle and Sir Didymus and Ludo. She talked to them in her room in those dreams, as if she were not asleep but only sitting up late. Those had stopped once she moved out of her house and into the college apartments. Then her dreams faded into darker, more frightening images. Every night she saw a white owl appear. It would watch her, fly with her, be with her, but never make a sound. Many times it simply remained part of the background. It became so much a part of her dreams that she became frightened if it did not appear, but she would will it to return and it would.
Many times, she dreamt that she was once more in the Labyrinth trying desperately to save Toby but she would fail. Or maybe she would reach the thirteenth hour and suddenly Toby would turn into a goblin before her eyes. The Goblin King would laugh deeply, but she could never make out his face. She would strain to see him, but all that revealed was a silhouette of a man.
On other nights, when she felt peaceful and rested, she dreamt of masquerades and parties where she would wander among the crowd, searching for someone. To her surprise, she would inevitably freeze as she saw Jareth, the Goblin King, face her in his mask. He would begin to lower it and she would wake abruptly.
Sarah wanted desperately to believe that her adventure was real, but the more she thought about it, the less probable it seemed. That little leather-bound book, Labyrinth, which she had been studying at the time must have began her dreams, but why would they return every night for eight years? They were so realistic that they were frightening.
Nevertheless, the dreams also comforted her. Jareth had become a sort of security, always there in some way. The owl, clearly another form of Jareth, gave her strength and compassion. She wondered how she could allow her mind to attach to dream characters. She found herself thinking of Jareth all the time, wondering if she had gone mad.
Sarah snapped to reality as a car horn honked. She felt suddenly overwhelmed and isolated, wishing that Jareth would appear. Tears spilled over her cheeks and she tried to smear them off quickly, but it was no use. She folded her arms across her chest for warmth and comfort as the sky began to cry with her. Below her, she heard a couple giggle and go inside their apartment. Without realizing what she was saying, Sarah whispered aloud, "I wish Jareth would come take me away right now."
The clock in the square below began to toll. Sarah counted the chimes: one, two, three. They continued. She peered out to sea. Six, seven, eight. Their solemn tone seemed to silence the noise all around, and Sarah straightened in slight alarm. Ten, eleven, twelve. The chiming had finished. Then chimed once more: Thirteen. Sarah dropped her arms and leaned forward to try to look at the clock in the square. It clearly read thirteen o'clock. She gasped involuntarily as the wind picked up to a frenzy. She turned to face the force, her eyes now watering from the biting wind.
Then she saw it; a white owl was sweeping gracefully through the sky directly toward her. She stepped backward in a mixture of shock and fear, and the sleek bird flew closer. She tripped over the deck furniture and sprawled on the ground while hitting her head. Everything spun momentarily, and as she looked back to where the owl should have been she felt a shadow close over her. Towering above her was the slender and imposing Goblin King, his cape fluttering about him, one gloved hand resting on his hip.
Sarah tried to rise but her head dizzied her and she stumbled back against the wall, stuttering, "It's you," and attempting to rise once more.
"Yes, it certainly is me. You wished for me, and I came for you. Here," he reached out a strong leather-clad hand and helped her to rise. She accepted his help cautiously.
"Why did you never come before," she began to tilt again but he caught her around the waist firmly.
"You never said the words before. But now you have because now you are ready," his liquid words stirred sensations within her that made her tremble with fear. She attempted to step away, but he pulled her closer. His face was only inches from her own.
"Sarah, I have been waiting for you for a long time," she felt fainter with the open ended statement.
"Why would you wait for me? I defeated you in your labyrinth, I took back Toby, I angered you, you said so-"
"Because, sweet Sarah, you know as well as I that words can mean very little, though they can also mean so much. And I also believe that you understand the power of emotion. You are an actress, you thrive upon emotion cloaked with words," he stepped closer, his lips nearly brushing her forehead, "And your emotions have brought me back to you once more."
Sarah began tilting again, this time in the wake of his words. Sarah pushed from his forearms and he released her carefully, worried she would fall again.
"But I am also a writer, and I know that words often mean more than they should." How many times had her scholar friends tried to over-analyze her novel with symbolism and given their psycho-analysis of the antagonist and protagonist. Of course, she found it ironic that the antagonist was now stirring the same emotions that her friends had read into after scrutinizing her unpublished work.
Jareth began to circle around Sarah, who remained frozen in contemplation. He could sense her struggle of emotions, but knew the only conflict was from shock.
"Sarah, I have a crystal for you," he produced a glistening orb from the air and rolled it across his hands. "But this is no crystal for a girl that only dreams, this is for a woman who follows her heart."
Sarah looked into his eyes, startled when she realized that one remained dilated. It was a pool of black that she seemed to fall through. His other eye adjusted to the lights from the kitchen. He seemed to stare directly into her heart, which caused her to tremble again.
He circled behind her, still playing with the crystal. She felt him move right behind her, felt his warmth along her back and bare legs. His hair brushed her neck and when he spoke it was only a whisper in her ear, "I never forgot about you," and this time his lips did brush her ear lobe, "And neither did you."
With these words, the crystal floated over her shoulder and hovered in front of her. She could see reflected inside her own face, frightened and windswept. Slowly, her reflected hair blew itself into a graceful hairstyle and she saw a beautiful flowing black gown morph from her thin camisole. She began to look about as in her dreams at the parties.
Jareth nudged her arm from behind, and timidly Sarah reached forward to break the crystal. A sensation like cold water washed over her and thrust her into the dream. She was searching the party for someone, when from the mist appeared the form of Jareth. It cleared and revealed his customary black boots, deep blue tights, and a long leather jacket that buttoned along his left side and trailed to the ground behind him like a cape. The collar of the jacket was tall and flipped up behind his head, which appeared last of all. His strong jaw line seemed to beckon her closer and so her image moved toward him.
Once she stood directly in front of him, she looked again into his eyes and seemed to slip into a trance. He said nothing, but began to dance with her. Music drifted through the mist, providing them a haunting tune. Her heart began to race and her hands quaked from the pulse of blood surging through her veins. The music reached a climax and Jareth drew his face closer, closer. Her eyes closed and she gasped away into a faint. Sarah felt her body on earth sink into warmth. Jareth caught her as she fainted and the wind shifted, enveloping them in his cape. They disappeared as quickly as that.