Disclaimer: not mine, copyright Labyrinth Enterprises (at least, that's what it says on my copy of the movie. Thank you Mr. Jim Henson way up high for creating such loveliness.
Short chapters this time, and more of them.
If you like Jareth, this tale will upset you.
The Pied Piper
Prologue
High, high, higher. To glide on the wind in this strange, strange world. To watch how the toy cars found their way over the asphalt, headlights bright, taillights cosy.
He would never understand this world. And always know why people would try to leave it.
Down, down, down he went. Shifting form unseen in the dark, walking from the ally into the busy street. It was not a nice street, to be busy so late at night. Women, young and old, scantly clad and eyes heavy with make up, their lips forming sweet words. Staring at him as if he were a prise to be won. He was arrogant enough to believe he might be.
Because he was not handsome, he was beautiful. Looking for all the world like a thirty something with a short unruly mob of almost white curly hair, ice blue eyes with uneven pupils making for a mesmerising stare, high cheekbones and a the pale tight skin of a young girl. Black shirt and black leather jacket, his slender hips tightly hugged by his jeans. The high heeled boots made him taller than he actually was and both those boots and the elegant sway he walked with made him a natural object of desire. He knew it, toyed with it- ran away from anything serious. Illusive.
Widows of midnight shops, the rag tag theatres only showing porn, the little corner where the fraud laid out her deck of cards to spell out your future. It would be at least an hour more before the girl would grow tired of her crying baby sister. So, with time to spare and a slight grin on his face, he went there to amuse himself.
When he left that place, he was too shocked to do anything but to go home, and forgot all about that baby.
Short chapters this time, and more of them.
If you like Jareth, this tale will upset you.
The Pied Piper
Prologue
High, high, higher. To glide on the wind in this strange, strange world. To watch how the toy cars found their way over the asphalt, headlights bright, taillights cosy.
He would never understand this world. And always know why people would try to leave it.
Down, down, down he went. Shifting form unseen in the dark, walking from the ally into the busy street. It was not a nice street, to be busy so late at night. Women, young and old, scantly clad and eyes heavy with make up, their lips forming sweet words. Staring at him as if he were a prise to be won. He was arrogant enough to believe he might be.
Because he was not handsome, he was beautiful. Looking for all the world like a thirty something with a short unruly mob of almost white curly hair, ice blue eyes with uneven pupils making for a mesmerising stare, high cheekbones and a the pale tight skin of a young girl. Black shirt and black leather jacket, his slender hips tightly hugged by his jeans. The high heeled boots made him taller than he actually was and both those boots and the elegant sway he walked with made him a natural object of desire. He knew it, toyed with it- ran away from anything serious. Illusive.
Widows of midnight shops, the rag tag theatres only showing porn, the little corner where the fraud laid out her deck of cards to spell out your future. It would be at least an hour more before the girl would grow tired of her crying baby sister. So, with time to spare and a slight grin on his face, he went there to amuse himself.
When he left that place, he was too shocked to do anything but to go home, and forgot all about that baby.