I'm writing this to help myself process my divorce. I haven't written a word in almost two months and I needed to do something to help get my writing mojo back. I obviously hope you like it. But if you don't, please don't be mean about it. A lot of this comes from a very real place.

Genre warnings: SHAMELESS self-insertion. If that bothers you, don't keep reading.

Thank you, please enjoy.

Alanna sat half-naked in the middle of her kitchen floor. She had been in the process of stress cleaning out the fridge when the stumbled upon the bottle of sweet vermouth in the back. The now empty bottle lay in her lap like a treasured pet as she surveyed the fresh carnage around her.

And entire chocolate cream pie. Gone. Kielbasa leftovers. Gone. Day old pizza. Gone.

Husband. Gone.

I'm alone.

The words echoed endlessly through her head. She hunted for silence at the bottom of every booze and food container she could get her hands on, but to no avail. She'd eaten practically a week's worth of food and they still rang in her head like a death rattle.

I'm alone again.

Again. Never if, always when. People always left her. She loved so deeply and so fiercely and no one ever wanted it. No one ever wanted her. At least, not forever. Not like they said they would, not like they promised.

Alanna was not an ugly woman. Nor was she particularly contemptible or despised. But she felt like the most despicable, horrible creature ever to curse the planet. People drifted in and out of her life like seasons. Never staying for long, like one dance in a long party. She hated it. All she ever wanted was a place she could be truly loved, truly belong. The neverending transience fueled her self-loathing into a strong and healthy mental illness.

And with the love of her life, casting departing shadows, it consumed her.

They had been together for nearly 5 years. Married for less than two. But he'd have no more of her now. He didn't love her anymore.

He'd lied when he said he was happy, and that who she was was good enough. It had all been a lie. Years of happy and fruitful memories now rotting like toxic waste in her mind. Each one a precious shard of glass cutting her to ribbons from the inside.

She let out a shuddering sigh as she looked around the room in shame and despair. Too exhausted to keep crying, eating, or drinking she hoisted herself off the floor. Precariously wobbling around the discarded wrappers and containers, she let her gaze linger briefly on a sharp kitchen knife. She shook the thought out of her head and aimed vaguely for the direction of the bedroom.

In no time at all she had built a proper nest of pillows, fluffy blankets, and stuffed animals she wasn't sure if she should still love anymore. But she did.

There was Bear, a polar bear to be precise. Gifted to her by her father when she turned 12. He was a most faithful pillow and had held her through many hard times. She imagined him as immeasurably good spirited and loyal. With a deep friendly voice that made him sound just a little bit stupid, but he had hidden depths.

Then there was Morambath, a black panther. Serving as the proxy of an animal companion she'd had in Dungeons and Dragons. Both the character and the toy had been presents from her husband for her birthday a few years ago. He was a silent and vain fellow, but in her mind, he was always reliably loping around the outskirts of their little polyester band of fellows. She made sure he was always placed on a high perch from which he could watch the goings-on.

Next came Onyx. A baby blue dragon. One of those 'just because I love you' gifts from her husband. He wasn't old enough for a proper horde, and he couldn't fly or breathe fire. But nevertheless, he took great pride in guarding her jewelry box. Fearsome in spirit if not in form.

The motley crew all huddled around her now. 4 sets of eyes, one real and three plastic, were bathed in the blue light of her laptop as she watched her favorite film.

The Labyrinth.

She had first seen the film when she was only two years old. Of course, she couldn't understand what the words or images meant. But a few frames got firmly stuck in her head. And until she rediscovered the film at 10 years old, she had no idea where the pictures of crystal bubbles and ball gowns rattling around in her brain came from. When she did find it again, she couldn't stop watching it. Driving her family bonkers with watching it every day, sometimes twice a day. Until she knew every single line like the back of her hand and could watch it in her head during classes. Since then it had always been a favorite. Seeing her through good times and bad. Having done some puppetry in her youth she appreciated the beauty and art in Jim Henson's creation. The music spoke to her on a very deep level. And if David Bowie's voice wasn't enough, there was, of course, his appearance as the Goblin King. A whole generation of girls was punted into puberty by this one part. His otherworldly beauty and intensity never went out of style or dulled as the years past.

Now 29, she was still a captive audience to the 80's glam portrayal of the Fae King.

She fingered the medallion around her neck. The last gift her husband ever gave her. For her birthday just past, one week before he left. It was an exact replica of the pendant of office worn by Jareth in the film. Even though it was forever attached to this painful time, it was still one of her most treasured possessions. And she knew it always would be.

Silent tears streamed down her face. Feeling like she was slowly dissolving. This pain, this loss, this betrayal was so great she could never really tell if she was breathing properly. Everything hurt so much.

If only she could go there, get away from all of this. She clearly didn't belong in the real world. Maybe she could belong there, in the Underground.

Drunk, and not caring a button for sensible thinking or adulting, she suddenly grasped the pendant as tightly as she could. Pain sprung from her thumb where she had accidentally scratched it on the sharp edges, but she barely noticed.

For the first time in many, many years. Alanna wished.

She wished with all her heart. The way only children can. Reaching far down into the tiny, dying part of her soul that could still believe something like the Neverending story was real. That dreams came true. That love could last forever. She wished as hard as she could. Clenching her eyes firmly shut. And spoke words she'd never been foolish enough to utter aloud before now.

"I wish the Goblin King would come and take me away right now."

She held her breath and didn't open her eyes. Just listening. This was the moment. This half second of waiting when all things were possible and anything could happen. This moment was the first hope Alanna had felt in a long time. And she held onto it for as long as she possibly could.

But it passed. Not the slightest stir in the room beside the sounds of the film.

She let out a long, slow, lungful of air and opened her blurry eyes. Letting this small heartbreak merge with the rest.

Blinking rapidly to clear the tears, she focused on getting back to watching the film.

It took her a whole two minutes to notice the mismatched pair of eyes staring back at her. Reflected in the screen from where the face that held them leaned back against the headboard, watching her.

"Well now, this is pathetic." Drawled an alien, melodic voice.

She screamed.