Title: Memento Mori
Rating: K
Summary: A meditation during a storm.
Author Notes: Feedback is always appreciated and I make every endeavour to reply to each reviewer.
Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or any of its associated characters and I am making no profit from this work of fanfiction (more's the pity).
Dedication: For Sarah, always.
Memento Mori
Copyright © June 2007, Ruth
Dark clouds, thick with the promise of a storm, obsured the moon on that dark night. The very air seemed to be tense, taut with anticipation. The labyrinth was a shadow of its former glory, the walls crumbling into dust at the barest breeze, or the gentlest touch. Nevertheless, it remained magnificent in its ruin, a commanding presence of magic and beauty that could not be denied.
Softly, the raindrops began to fall, like a quiet echo of the footsteps of the past. It had not been so very long ago that real footsteps had echoed throughout the labyrinth's walls, creating a far deeper impression on both the kingdom and its monarch than their owner had ever thought possible.
The rain increased and a bolt of lightening flashed in the distance, for a moment illuminating the twisting paths beyond the gates. It was in this moment that the girl appeared, standing as still as stone just inside the beginning of the labyrinth. Her eyes were closed as the rain fell onto her face, the drops stinging her pale skin as they were thrown from the sky. Her clothes were plastered to her lithe form, cumbersome and utterly drenched.
Yet still she did not move.
A rumble of thunder overhead seemed to draw her from her reverie, as she opened her eyes to the landscape that lay before her, stretching far beyond the horizon. When the lightening flashed again she was confronted with the full horror of its decay, once lush, green vegetation was black and charred, its statues and walls sprawled in the dust. She closed her eyes again as a harsh sob escaped her lips, a tear rolling down her face that soon mingled with the rain.
Death and decay lay before her, a seeming accusation.
She sank slowly to her knees on the cold stone, her hair hanging in limp, wet strands across her face as the rain continued to lash down upon her. Gingerly she reached out a hand to touch the stone but drew back in alarm, as it seemed to pulse beneath her fingers.
"What must I do?" She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
What do you think? A voice answered.