Sarah's Diary

He calls to me often, luring me in with that soothing, tempting voice of his. He calls my name, and I can picture him, standing on the balcony where I admitted those fatal words, looking into his glass bubble, staring at me, calling for me to join him.

I don't know if I wish to join him or not. I know he can't control me - I admitted it to his face, the last time we were together on the balcony. "You have no power over me." I can still hear his agonized screams as the staircase collapsed and I ended up back in my room.

Toby has shown no recollection of his kidnapping, nor his thirteen hours with the goblins. He has yet to talk, even though he should be able to. It worries my stepmother ever so much - thankfully, it's keeping her distracted from scolding me. My father is focused on her and Toby as well, and I am left to my own devices, just as I like it.

It gets lonely sometimes, though. Hoggle and the others cannot visit me anymore. I am not sure if it is because he is keeping them away from me, as bait to draw me in, or if they can't manage to work it into their day. I really hope it's because he's keeping them away, though I do not wish them harm.

What if they are coming to harm in his grasp? Often I think it would be best if I join him as he asks. He obviously cares for me, and the castle is no doubt rebuilt and would be a comfortable place to live. It's not like there's anything here for me; no boys interested, no one willing to be friends, not even a little brother to talk to. It's positively depressing.

When he calls, his voice is full of the same remorse and sadness that I find mine is. He misses me, and I miss... I miss the wonderful fantasy land I left when I took Toby home. I do not miss the Goblin King much, though I do find myself thinking about him often. I've started a collection of drawings, piecing them together bit by bit whenever I can remember something. It helps me stay happy, thinking of my secret world of wonderful things beyond imagine.

I have the fairies down, and the worm on the wall, Ambrosious, even Hoggle and his plastic jewels. The fierys are harder - they were always moving, so it was hard to really picture them in the still, 2D form I am required to draw them in. Perhaps if I return to Jareth he can do something about my restriction to the second dimension.

My sketchpad is half-full of Jareth, the Goblin King, and his army of goblins. His face remains partially blank - I cannot capture his look; the conflicting emotions that cross his face, his eyes that always seem so deep. I could get lost in his eyes, but he did not let me see them enough in those few moments we were together.

My favorite picture of him is where he is sitting on the Escher staircase, his body sprawled along the steps. His hand is outstretched towards the viewer of the picture, his glass bubble poised upon his finger tips, a questioning smirk in his eyes. I left his mouth undone, as I always do - I can never get it right. Nothing can capture the lips of such a complicated man.

I wonder what he would say, if he saw my sketchpad. Probably some snarky remark about how much I've missed him. Perhaps I have, but I do not admit it to myself. I'm keeping in denial - would it make me a horrible person, to regret leaving such a terrible creature as him? Of course, I don't really believe he's evil. Just... power-hungry and tricky, possibly even a bit misunderstood.

As I sit here to write this, my thirty-first diary entry - you are my only friend, my one true confidant, you see - he calls to me. It's as if he's right here with me, standing next to my bed, leaning in to whisper into my ear. I can almost feel his presence in the room. I do not doubt it is possible for him to be here with me, but I believe there's something holding him back. Perhaps a sort of boundary?

There I go again with my 'perhaps', my 'it's possible' - I write those words far too often, don't you think?

He's calling me again. What if I'm crazy? What if I'm mentally insane and I dreamed it all but I'm stuck in this fantasy. Would one draw such pictures, if they were only a fantasy? I suppose it's possible, isn't it? Why am I asking? You're not going to answer. You're a book, for goodness sake!

There is a tapping at my window. I must go see what it is...