Dear Readers,

As you can see, I have deleted "Hungry Heart." I apologize to those who were following it, but I had some new ideas that just didn't want to work with that story, so I am replacing that one with this one! Enjoy.

Code Green

Chapter One: There are Few Who Deny

There are often times, in the life of an author, when the writer feels the presence of a character, sees their created world, and against all reason, for a split second in time, believes that the world of their written imaginings is real. Before the writer can question their own sanity, however, realism is again found, and the story continues. For, after all, the characters, lands, and stories are naught but fanciful visions of a dreamer. All authors understand that their day dreams are not, and never were, true.

Sarah Williams was not one of those authors.

See now how she sits at her window seat, staring out at the woods and creek beyond in a daze of sorts? Her hazel eyes have the translucent film of contacts fit snugly against them, for in the course of years, she has not passed unmolested through the time tunnel of age. Streaks of gray, barely visible, intertwine with the dark strands of her braided hair, a source of slight irritation for Miss Williams. Not yet thirty years old, she still feels aged, but she is exceedingly beautiful, more than ever before.

Let us now intrude upon the remembrances of the dreamer...

Sarah sighed, her fingertips tapping against her scarlet lips as she stared out the window. The window was open, and the breezes of an oncoming storm rustled through her long hair, pulling layered strands out of her braid and into her face. The air was rippling with electricity, she could feel it, and thunder rumbled in the distance, drawing closer. And somehow, despite the perfect setting, the opportune atmosphere, she couldn't think of a single thing to write.

It had been fourteen years since she had written her first and only novel; nine years since it had been published. It had been a play first, then a book, and now there were discussions of turning it into a movie. There was only one problem. The producers who wished to transform Sarah's book into a film desired her input with a passion. They wanted her advice about scenes and characters, and Sarah longed to give the wanted advice, but she couldn't remember. Her adventure in the Underground, the journey that had prompted her writing and set free her imagination, was difficult to remember in details. She could vividly recall her emotions from her journey, but everything else was hazy and vague.

Sarah turned her head and gazed across her room, trying to remember. She had come to visit her parents in the old house, setting aside her business trips for later so she could find her memories and creativity again. Her room was greatly changed from before. Toys and stuffed animals had been replaced by books and photo albums. The vanity and its mirror were long gone, its space now dominated by a desk and laptop. Photos and art decorated the walls, now stripped of their wallpaper and painted a warm sea green. Karen had done a splendid job in the room, and Sarah was grateful, but she could find no inspiration.

Everything in the house had changed. It was updated and refurbished. Tobey was off at college, far south in Florida. Nothing was the same. Except, perhaps, for the park.

Sarah hurried to her feet and grabbed her rain coat, rushing to get to the park before the storm hit. She bustled out of the house and then jogged towards the park, glancing skyward to the storm clouds as she crossed a busy street and continued on. Even the town was changed, having grown immensely in population and development. Sarah herself had been involved in several development constructions, having the quick mind and mathematical skills that contracts required. She had had her hand in the re-constructing of the town's main street, and she smiled as she hurried across the street and then up a path to the park.

The bridge was still there, and this she crossed, gazing at her reflection in the creek below before arriving next to the benches of old. The grass was again a rich green, with wild daisies scattered across the lush blanket of emerald. Everything was the same, save for the winged creature that had once been here. There was no barn owl to be found, but a large crow sat perched on a stone structure, blinking down at Sarah.

Sarah smiled and held out her arms, grinning at her own appearance.

"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child which you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great!"

The crow rustled its wings, and Sarah chuckled to herself, shaking her head.

"This is ridiculous. Me, a full grown woman, thinking something will happen. Well, may as well try and get it over with." She sighed. "Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be, come and find me, please. I am seeking your company."

A clap of thunder rattled through the angry sky, and, as if on cue, the ominous clouds unleashed their heavy burden. Lightning laced through the clouds, and the rain poured down in torrents. Sarah wrapped her coat tightly around her body and then ran, racing full force towards her house. If this was some sort of joke by the Goblin King...

Karen was waiting inside the front door with a towel, and Sarah wrapped it around herself before hurrying upstairs and taking a hot shower. She was frustrated as she dried off and then dressed in her pajamas, a black tank top, plaid pajama pants, and her favorite furry blue slippers. She was content but tired as she returned to her room, and she was glad when Karen informed her that Karen and Mr. Williams were going out to dinner. There would be no need to be social tonight.
Never had her bed, now a queen-sized mattress with lilac-colored spread and sheets, looked more inviting. There was just something so comforting about a fluffy bed on a stormy day. A soft sigh slipped past Sarah's lips as she turned off her bedroom light and then lay down on the bed. A short nap before dinner would do no harm, and she could leave her contacts in. Fifteen minutes would be more than enough time for a good rest.

Sarah closed her eyes, letting her thoughts drift to her adventure of so many years ago. She could clearly remember smells, like the odor of the Bog of Eternal Stench or the perfume of Hoggle's peach. She could vaguely see her friends from before, but she couldn't remember the details. Which eye had been covered by Sir Didymus' patch? Which leg had Hoggle limped on? Was Ludo's fur red, or orange, or both? And what was the name of the Goblin King?

She had never doubted the truth of the Labyrinth. She had never even considered that she had dreamed her adventure or that it hadn't happened. It had been too real, and it frustrated her to no end that she couldn't remember it better. Her adventure had changed her life, had made her more respectful and had made her realize that life just wasn't fair, and that was how it was. And he, the Goblin King, had changed her more than anything else had. She could still hear his voice, could still see his glowing eyes, gazing down at her with... What was that emotion? That was something she still could not understand. He hadn't been angry, and the look in the ballroom hadn't been haughty, but what was it? And why did it haunt her still?

"Well. It's you."

The voice, deep, rich, and sarcastic, startled Sarah just much as if the voice had screamed at her. She gasped and sat bolt upright, her heart racing violently, and looked in the direction from whence the voice had come.

There was a dark figure sitting in the chair at her desk.