Chapter I - The Circus
"I'm not sure about this, Lily," Sarah murmured nervously, a thin layer of perspiration spreading across her brow like a faint tidal wave. "It could be dodgy." Or worse, it could work…
Lily tossed her thick, faux-blonde hair as she laughed in her infamous care-free manner.
"Don't worry Sarah, these guys are always phonies. I just wondered what it would be like! It'll be fun, come on!" She yanked her best friend's hand and dragged her in the direction of an averagely sized circus tent.
The Autumn Carnival was in full swing, echoing around the nearby suburban streets. It was being held in Fross Park, a large green in the middle of the town filled with oak trees and a mediocre play area, an algae-covered pond and scattered benches. It had a notorious reputation for being treacherous at night, and most opted to skirt around the edges rather than entering the thick shadows. Leaves that littered the ground had mulched down into a slippery mass since the recent rainfall, and a dark sky made the whole affair bitter, ominous and overwhelming for Sarah. The lights of the Ferris wheel shone out across the fairground like pressing stars, but with less elegance and a cold artificiality. The music was shrill and loud, penetrating Sarah's ears through her ear muffs and making her grit her teeth. But Lily had wanted to go.
The marquee Lily had set sail for was smaller than a fully-fledged circus tent, but large enough to hold a good twenty people, and was made of red and black stripy material that shimmered with damp. Inside were a few rows of seats surrounding a small circular stage, which had a single spot light on it. The rest of the tent was dark, so people shuffled to find a seat.
"Please let's sit at the back!" Sarah begged, pulling off her ear muffs and tapping Lily.
"You're no fun! Fine, we'll sit here." Lily plonked herself down on the end of the back row, removing her scarf and hat.
The audience, which was largely made up of people trying to convince others they were sceptics, hummed deliriously in anticipation of the act. Sarah sat silent, a weight growing in her stomach of which Lily was completely oblivious. It was not in Lily's nature to be perceptive, especially when she had set her sights on something. A hush descended on the room as a shrouded figure entered from a curtain from the back of the stage, and took a standing position in the spot-light. He spoke in a low, French voice that rung around the tent.
"Bonjour madams et monsieurs. Welcome to the Cirque d'Esprit. I am your host, but it does not matter who I am. What matters are those with a voice, longing to reach out to the ones they used to know," He turned to a sad looking woman wearing a fleece in the eyes, "Used to love." The woman flushed.
Sarah, meanwhile, angrily dug her nails into her hands and wondered if he was actually French, or if he even knew what 'Esprit' meant. Lily had leant forward, her pale eyes widening comically.
"Tonight, I will connect with places that I like to call 'beyond the realm'. I hope that I will be able to reconnect you with people who you had almost forgotten."
Sarah's throat grew tight; she could not handle the silent atmosphere when he stopped speaking. To her relief, a low piano piece began to play.
"Now then, let me see," the host closed his eyes and placed his palms over his lids, as if he was playing peek-a-boo. "I am getting something, yes… Does anyone here begin with a C? No, a K…" He trailed off.
Everyone looked around nervously until a man in the front row uttered, "Yes, me."
The host smiled. "Please stand up, is it Kevin?"
"It's Keiran," replied the man, stuttering slightly. He was a short man of about forty-five, and he appeared to be there with a rather awkward teenager, presumably his daughter.
"Yes, Keiran…" the man paused, and moaned low. "I sense great sadness in your life. There is someone in a realm beyond that wishes to speak to you."
Keiran looked hopeful. "My wife?"
"Your wife! It is her! She wants to tell you something. She says 'I am sorry for leaving so soon'."
Keiran's eyes widened, and he sobbed aloud, "Oh, my new wife! She died last year. We had only been married a few weeks! It's just me and my Megan now," he gestured to the young girl, who stared at the French man accusatively, "Her mother left us a long time ago." Sarah could feel the room lose something; a barrier had been broken, and they all stared on, mesmerised. As Keiran babbled, Sarah wondered how he could offer up so much information in front of so many strangers.
"Is she okay?" Keiran spluttered.
"She loves you very much, and will always be watching over you."
As Keiran unleashed a great sob of joy, Sarah felt something snap in the back of her mind, something that resembled anger, but only worse. She had never wanted to come to the show or even the carnival at all, but as usual Lily had insisted. Her greatest fear would be if the host somehow knew about her dead mother, Linda; even now, she felt like a criminal in the audience, like people could smell her fear. She hissed to Lily, "I am out of here! This is sick and devious!" Lily sighed and shrugged, turning back to the stage.
Sarah stood and tried to creep out of the tent when suddenly the music stopped, and an audible, shared gasp filled the silence. Then a French voice rang out, cutting the air, urging Sarah "STOP!" Swinging round, Sarah was shocked to see the changed expression on the host's face. His hands had fallen, his expression wild and his eyes glazed over, almost foggy, like he was not wholly present in the room. Sarah scoffed in disbelief at his new shock tactic, that is, until he pronounced, "Sarah." She stopped breathing.
"Sarah, there is someone here for you, some one beginning with…G? No…J. Yes, J. It is very clear."
Still, no breathing.
"He says 'I am coming for you, Sarah, I am coming for you in your dreams. Now watch as your world falls down around you.'"
Without a further noise, the man collapsed into a bundle, clutching his head and moaning. His voice had been low and unfamiliar. Sarah froze on the spot, suddenly inhaling deeply having forgotten temporarily that she needed oxygen. No one went to help the man, since he had already begun to rise. "Oh dear me! I sincerely apologise for dropping in front of you all. Now, shall we proceed?"
Clearly, the man had no recollection of what had just befallen him. The room stirred nervously and equally tried to put the occurrence behind them. Sarah, however, had dashed from the tent, followed by Lily trailing behind.
Outside, Sarah's head grew heavy from the cold and the light drizzle annoyed her beyond comprehension. It was as if she was seeing the world entirely differently. Fairground lights danced before her eyes, spheres of light tossing and turning as if being manipulated by fingers. The faces on the side of the Ghost Train spooked her; they were not serpentine or demonic, but underworld and gruesome. Masked figures that breathed fire, juggled, and contorted their bodies flickered around her, and Sarah felt each and every obscured eye gather and pierce her face. Her heart pounded loudly, the tempo matching the beat of the drum that accompanied the fire-breathers. Everything around her reminded her of something too distant, something that history had done much to fade. Her head spun, and Lily appeared at her side to hold her arm.
"Are you okay? Man, that was pretty damn scary. I mean, did you see his eyes? And who do you know that has a name beginning with 'J'?" She too looked wild and excited, so Sarah grimaced.
"Lily, stop! You are twenty next month, how can you still believe in this kind of stuff?"
Lily removed herself from Sarah's side.
"Because it makes me happy, and it used to make you happy! That's why I took you to this stupid fair in the first place, to try to make you feel like a kid again. Remember when we used to sit in the garden at midnight and make oaths? Remember the solstices and our fairy hunting?"
Sarah dropped her green eyes in evasion. Lily knew no real response would come. For many years now, Sarah had been different to the girl she had befriended in high school. She was like every other person: she had hobbies, liked some music and art, read books – was normal. But beyond that, there was nothing else. The light that used to glint behind her façade of normality used to let Lily know Sarah was a free spirit, a believer. Now, she was just a husk.
"Let's just go back to the flat. It's too cold out anyways."
Lily sighed in defeat at her reply.
"Okay, that sounds good to me. To be honest this place gets boring kind of quickly, and I don't want to be stuck in murder-park too late!"
They began to shuffle in the direction of the exit; earlier the girls had opted to walk, since their street was only a ten minute walk away. By the time they had reached home, Sarah had grown more troubled by what had gone on that evening. Three things nagged at her the most. One: how had the performer known her name? Two: she knew literally no one that began with the letter 'J'. It annoyed her that the latter question bothered her, as she still doubted the art of 'going beyond'. And finally, three: Who was supposedly 'coming' for her, and how were they going to get into her dreams?
Sliding into bed, Sarah tried to shake off a feeling she had experienced since leaving the circus tent: one of being watched. This is all idiotic she thought, this is how they get you, how they fool you. He had no idea who I am, how could he? Perhaps he heard me talking to Lily. It was so obvious to read Keiran's problem, maybe he tried to read me…but he was so specific…Sarah plaited her hair into a long braid.
Lily had already turned in, giving Sarah the sulky brush-off she did so well, and so Sarah felt slightly lonely and ultimately unsettled. It made her reluctant to sleep. Don't be so ridiculous, she reassured herself, you are supposed to be smarter than this. You are as bad as Lily! Shoving her head under her pillow, she flicked off the light and eventually plunged into a deep slumber.
Images from the carnival infected her dreams that night. She was walking through the fair in an old white dress, her bare feet squelching in the undergrowth, and everywhere she looked was blinding lights shining out from the darkness. There were many tents, but she was only looking for one: the black and red circus enclosure. There was a sense of urgency in her step, as if she was looking for something or someone, but had forgotten what, or who.
She turned a corner, the wind getting trapped in her long, dark hair and chilling her skin, and came face to face with the tent. Fire breathers appeared from the tent and formed two lines, spitting fire in a low arch, jugglers throwing fire to each other hypnotically. Trying not to get burned, Sarah walked down the corridor of fire and entered through a soft velvet curtain into the arena. Inside, the seats were empty, but gentle piano music cut through the quiet eerily. The room was dark and oppressive, as if a heavy mist had settled. No one appeared to be there, so Sarah progressed forward into the spotlight. The music grew louder as she approached the light, and when she stepped into the glow it was almost unbearable to listen to. But as fast as it had started, the music then stopped. The spotlight left Sarah, went red, and landed on the curtain that lead to the back stage area.
Out of a haze that emanated from the curtain came a tall, slim figure, dressed head to toe in black. He wore dark leather boots with black leggings, and an ebony velvet shirt, all set off by a long, almost translucent cloak. Sarah nervously met his eyes, though they were higher than her level. The man that stood before her had scintillating hair, like it was made of both silver and gold, which stood up and defied gravity, with some loose strands falling over his shoulders. His eyes looked supernatural, mismatched and surrounded by the slightest shade of red on the skin. He cocked his head to the left absent-mindedly, and smiled in a bizarre fashion, a hand on his hip and the other brandishing a cane with a glass orb on top.
To say he was beautiful would be an understatement. Sarah thought she had never beheld such an ethereal being. But as much as he was striking, there was something sinister, truly malicious about the way he gazed at Sarah. All her feelings of being observed earlier that evening accumulated into his single stare. She felt sick and flighty, but could not move her feet. They were glued to the ground.
"Who are you?" She whispered.
The figure stood upright, lowering his bent arm. He frowned mockingly.
"Sarah, I am wounded. I had hoped I had made a lasting impression on the girl who nearly ruined my entire world." His voice fell from his thin mouth like a thick syrup and glazed the air between them.
Still unable to move, Sarah's nerves tightened.
"What do you mean?"
The man sighed and began to pace. Unable to turn, Sarah could only listen helplessly. As he walked past, she caught the scent of a fruit she could not place.
"Do you mean to say, I went to all this effort only to find that it is entirely wasted?"
The man was suddenly stood behind Sarah, his head on her right side, next to hers. Sarah tried to remain calm and dignified, in an attempt to hide her very obvious fear.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not sure what is going on here. If we have ever met, I don't think I remember you."
Once again, he circled Sarah, pausing close to her face. He lifted his cane under her chin and forced her face to look at his. He frowned again as he gazed into her visage, his eyes lingering on her made-up red lips. Only in her dreams did Sarah Williams don her ruby lipstick.
"You are telling the truth. Pity, I had hoped our reunion would be more straight forward, more…rewarding."
He regarded her eyes but seemed to be focusing on a plan, formulating what to do next. Sarah, meanwhile, tried not to break her gaze. Abruptly, he turned and paced back to the curtain. "I must confess I had not planned for your complete ignorance of who I am. It is as if I've been left in an oubliette for all these years…no matter."
He turned to face her. Sarah panicked, the feeling one gets at the close of a dream hanging in her stomach.
"Wait! Look, I don't know who you are but I feel…I feel like I have seen you before. You have to tell me your name at least." She was spellbound by his otherworldly pupils. He could see this, and it made him chuckle in his throat, grinning cruelly.
"Oh Sarah, you will remember who I am soon enough, once I begin to jog your memory." His voice cascaded over her, a waterfall of threatening charm. "Until then, I shall leave you to sleep." Suddenly before her again, he took her right hand in his gloved one and dropped a kiss on it. He returned behind the curtain, but finally added, "And Sarah, my name is Jareth. See if you can remember it."
As the performer had done several hours earlier, Sarah collapsed into a heap on the floor, her legs swiftly becoming numb. A loud, shrill whistle rang in her ears, and as she clutched them the world around her began to fade. Her alarm clock informed her forcefully that it was time to get up for class, but something else nagged at Sarah. Why did she recognise the name 'Jareth'?
Author's Note
I feel that this story started out of frustration with my half-finished Labyrinth fanfic, which is currently on hold. Something that had previously been so simple had spun out of control, and I forgot how I ever wanted it to pan out. Then I got thinking about losing sight, forgetting things, and suddenly 'The Circus' was born. What happens if something that to an audience was a crucial stage in Sarah's life was simply forgotten by her, attributed by her as one of many childhood daydreams? I know it's been done to death, but here is my contribution to an overflowing pool: 'The Circus', a tale of a girl frantically trying to figure out why she cannot just be ordinary, and why her dreams are no longer hers.
Labyrinth is copyright of Jim Henson, 1986. Lily is my own hopeless creation.