"Sssaarah."
A lone figure tossed and turned among the rumpled bedsheets. Beads of sweat
adorned her head like a crystalline crown.
Her body's jerky movements caused her sleeping cat to jump up and hiss into
the darkness.
"Sssaarah."
Her body contorted again as her arm reached out into nothingness.
"Jareth!" she screamed into the empty air before she bolted upright.
Her eyes were wide with fear, her breaths coming in short gasps. Her heart
beat against her chest heavily. As she looked around the room, her
surroundings became more familiar and she began to calm herself. She
shakily wiped the sweat from her brow.
It was a dream.
But it had felt so real! It wasn't like any other dream she had before. She had felt his pain, could feel her own! He had been calling out to her, but she couldnt find him. The forest was just too big. She felt as if she were running in circles. But then she had wandered into someplace she had never seen before. It was beautiful. A Garden full of light and warmth. The wind seemed to speak to her. It was then she realized the voice had not been that of the Goblin King, but of this place. "Sssaarah." It had called her here. She went to touch a beautiful white rose, but as she reached for it, it turned blood red then black. She screamed as it shrivelled and died. The entire Garden seemed to then begin to die. She didn't understand. She called out to the wind to ask what was happening, but her only reply was a cry of agony. This time it was Jareth's voice. She was instantly in a dark place where she could see the body of a man who had been beaten and tortured. Blood dripped from his back where a whip had lacerated his skin. She gasped audibly at the sight. She carefully reached toawrds the body, weary of what face she might see. As she gently turned him over, she tried not to scream. The blood on her hands was forgotten as soon as she saw his once beautiful face. It was mangled. Dried blood stained his face along with dried tears. She softly wiped the blood form his mouth while his eyes fluttered open. "Ssaarah." Again the voice of the garden, but through his lips. Before she could utter a word, two ugly things tore him away from her. His hand reached for her and she tried to reacj for him. "Jareth!" she screamed. But it was too late. He was gone. And the room was dark, so dark. She felt so alone.
She shook her head of the remnants of the dream, wiping tears from her eyes. It was only a dream. But why did she feel like something just wasn't right? After a moment's more of thought, she got up to wash her dried and sticky face. She turned on the light in the bathroom, looking down at her feet. She shuffled to the sink and turned on the tap, eyes half closed. When she looked up into the mirror, a horrible shrill scream could be heard through the house. The blood was smeared over her face where she had wiped her sweat and tears. She now looked at her hands in the light and saw the blood on them. Hastily she began to rinse her hands of the crimson stain, tears flowing freely again.
It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a dream.
It was a dream.
But it had felt so real! It wasn't like any other dream she had before. She had felt his pain, could feel her own! He had been calling out to her, but she couldnt find him. The forest was just too big. She felt as if she were running in circles. But then she had wandered into someplace she had never seen before. It was beautiful. A Garden full of light and warmth. The wind seemed to speak to her. It was then she realized the voice had not been that of the Goblin King, but of this place. "Sssaarah." It had called her here. She went to touch a beautiful white rose, but as she reached for it, it turned blood red then black. She screamed as it shrivelled and died. The entire Garden seemed to then begin to die. She didn't understand. She called out to the wind to ask what was happening, but her only reply was a cry of agony. This time it was Jareth's voice. She was instantly in a dark place where she could see the body of a man who had been beaten and tortured. Blood dripped from his back where a whip had lacerated his skin. She gasped audibly at the sight. She carefully reached toawrds the body, weary of what face she might see. As she gently turned him over, she tried not to scream. The blood on her hands was forgotten as soon as she saw his once beautiful face. It was mangled. Dried blood stained his face along with dried tears. She softly wiped the blood form his mouth while his eyes fluttered open. "Ssaarah." Again the voice of the garden, but through his lips. Before she could utter a word, two ugly things tore him away from her. His hand reached for her and she tried to reacj for him. "Jareth!" she screamed. But it was too late. He was gone. And the room was dark, so dark. She felt so alone.
She shook her head of the remnants of the dream, wiping tears from her eyes. It was only a dream. But why did she feel like something just wasn't right? After a moment's more of thought, she got up to wash her dried and sticky face. She turned on the light in the bathroom, looking down at her feet. She shuffled to the sink and turned on the tap, eyes half closed. When she looked up into the mirror, a horrible shrill scream could be heard through the house. The blood was smeared over her face where she had wiped her sweat and tears. She now looked at her hands in the light and saw the blood on them. Hastily she began to rinse her hands of the crimson stain, tears flowing freely again.
It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a dream.