Author´s note: In memory of one of the greatest artists of our time and a movie that was among my first cautious steps into the world of fantasy. This little piece came together as I wrote it.

The Queen Remembers

It had been years.

Years of growing up and growing solemn.

Years in which what she had been told was a necessity had become an inevitability.

Years where the magic of her childhood had slowly, creepingly disappeared, never completely vanishing, but retreating into a precious, invisible treasure chest inside her very soul where she kept her memories well maintained and safe.

Memories she would dwell on now and then. Whenever she heard an owl´s call at night. Whenever she saw her brother who, long past his toddler age, had grown into a man with no memory of the mysterious place that waited beyond her dreams and imagination. Whenever she read a book which in some way resembled the very book she had been reading right before he had taken her brother…and before he had swept her away.

The labyrinth was long ago.

Things had happened since then.

Life had happened.

Growing up and learning and laughing and finding love. A career and marrying and little feet in the house. Laughter and raising children had happened. And those children growing up, a boy and a girl. Life had seemed full and rich and worth living. And yes, not every moment had been happy, because grief had happened, too, and moving back into her parents´ house with her husband when she had inherited it, returning to where she had grown up.

And then growing old had happened, slowly, creepingly. Not a scary thing even, but a soft blanket of slowing down life to a gentler pace, bringing back memories of past years, so many of them by now that they would stack like tomes of books in an overfilled library where it was sometimes difficult to find the right volume to truely, really remember.

But one thing she had always remembered. Through all these years. Through growing and learning and laughing and raising children. Through growing old and then…through being alone again when her husband had died.

No, she had never forgotten about the labyrinth. About all the strange, dear friends she had made there. About him, his intriguing, mesmerising and wonderfully scaring presence. The memory had turned into a slightly bizarre but precious memory, one she remembered fondly, but one she was ever so careful to not approach with a too grown-up mind to keep the soap bubble of her girl dreams from bursting. She had always been careful not to make the card house of her fantasy tumble to dancing pieces, because deep down the adult she had become had acquired the belief that what had happened in the labyrinth had just been a dream. Her very soul though, the child she had been, knew it had been more. But all the more often, the further years progressed, the adult had reasoned over the child.

oooooooooooo

It was a few days after Christmas, the very time of the year when the family, usually so busy with living, still came together. It was a different family than it had once been, things had changed. Family now did not mean her parents, her husband… it meant her brother, Toby, his wife and the twins who had families of their own by now. It meant her own children, Jimmy who had remained a bachelor and Katy, a beautiful woman of 48 by now, with the same fierceness as her mother.

Snow had fallen on Christmas Eve and continued through the remainder of the year, covering the garden in a soft, crisp blanket, covering up the few patches of bush and tree that were not as well maintained as they had used to be. Katy used to mildly complain about that, telling her she could pay for someone doing a little more landscaping, but Sarah didn´t mind. She had always loved the garden best when it was a little wilder, a little less tamed. Probably that was what had prompted her mind to come up with the labyrinth.

There had been dinner and favourite Christmas songs, and good natured teasing about old stories and new and then calm, peaceful sleep, sinking the house into a calm quiet of the kind you only find between Christmas and the new year. And the days had worn on, her family leaving again one by one, only her daughter staying into the new year. She would have to leave on the third, catching a plane back to New York City, returning to her busy life. They had celebrated the new year together, watching the distant fireworks from the warmness of the living room, in the peaceful isolation of their own thoughts and then, when the fireworks had been over they had retreated to their bedrooms.

oooooooo

Sarah did´t know what had woken her, opening her eyes into the darkness. For a moment it was as if she had heard someone call her name, that voice, the memory imprint of it on her mind, rousing her most inner self, tapping on the treasure chest of cherished memories, waking her from some dream she didn´t remember even a second after waking. She blinked. Sure she had imagined that.

But still, there was the urge to get up. She didn´t know why, but going down into the kitchen to get a glass of water seemed like a good idea for some reason. At least that was what she told herself. I woke because I am thirsty. Because that´s what adults did. Adults did not wake from voices that were not there and then got up to investigate. Especially not when these adults were 84 years old and every movement used to remind them of that. But as she tiptoed through the room, careful not to wake her daughter who was sleeping in her old bedroom, she noticed her heart was beating fast and she noticed that her steps were guiding her and that the kitchen and the fridge were not her destination. Noticed that the echo of that voice on the edge of her no-longer remembered dream was still there. Guiding her.

Sarah…

She almost hurried, grabbing her coat from its hanger, hurrying to the door and not even remembering to take a key. When the door clicked close behind her as she stepped into the garden, she didn´t even notice that she had locked herself out, barey felt the cold, soft snow against her toes. It was as if that didn´t matter. Nor did the icy wind, touching the paper thin skin on her ankles as she walked, step by step, into the garden, losely closing the coat against the chill.

„Hello?" Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, the air fogging in front of her lips, but still she didn´t freeze. Somewhere she could hear the hooting of a night predator. Perhaps an own. She walked on. Deeper, and deeper into the garden, past snow covered flower beds and trees, deeper and deeper into a winter wonderland that lay still in the night as if…it was expecting her.

Sarah...

She gasped. This time she was certain she had not imagined the voice. She whirled around. "Who is this?" As if she didn´t know…

There was the sound of a chuckle when really it had just been the rustle of the wind softly touching the trees, making a whisp of snow fall down soundlessly.

Don´t you remember me?

Amusement and reproach. Her heart was beating faster as she sped up her step. "Where are you?"

She was running now. Not noticing how easy it was, all of a sudden to run. As if age meant nothing at all. New trees had grown and new bushes, and none of it had been there when she had still been a child, nor when she had first met him, but Sarah suddenly started to wonder whether all of the trees had been here already or if the underbrush had always been as thick. Or if the moon had ever been that bright. "Where are you?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Here.

The reply was short. Simple. Evident.

Waiting for you.

She flinched when the wing of a bird brushed past her cheek, making her stumble and fall flat on her back. She tensed, expecting pain. Falling hurt terrible when one aged and bones seemed to turn into glass. But she found to her astonishment that this fall didn´t hurt at all. There was just the sudden chill of powdery snow as she fell, stopping herself with her hands.

Now now, my precious one.

Still, the voice was just in her mind, a thrumming sensation like delicate fingers against a violin´s string, caressing. When she looked up, the voice had manifested. An owl´s wing one moment, the next it was him. And he looked just how she remembered him. There was that faint smirk on his lips, the same intensity in his eyes…

Jareth reached out with his hand to pull her up. She took it. And found she was not as tall as him. Just as it had been.

In sudden realisation she stared into his eyes. No pains any more? Moving with ease? Her heart felt a lot lighter, too. Her body stronger.

"What is happening to me?" she whispered.

He took her other hand, too, caringly, as if to swirl her into a dancer´s embrace.

"Just as I remember you, my precious queen."

She could feel he wasn´t lieing. She couldn´t understand what had happened but somehow she had shaken off her age, left it behind like an old skin on her way from the house into the garden. In amazement she wanted to look back to see where it had gone, but he gently cupped her chin, stopped her. "Don´t look back." he said with a small smile. "I came back for you. I moved the stars one last time to see my queen once more."

She opened her mouth, unable to speak or comprehend. Closed it again.

"The labyrinth…" she wanted to ask if it was real. But she knew. "…is still there?"

Again that enigmatic smile. "Oh it always was, always will be." And as he talked she could suddenly see the branches behind him move. Walls forming high and tall, branches twisting and curling into the first edges and curls of a maze. He caught her gaze and chuckled. "And you just learned again how to see it."

"What happens now?" she asked, but in her soul she knew the answer already and her heart, her very being was mesmerised with joy.

"Now the queen finally returns to her kingom."

"It hasn´t changed?"

He shook his head, playfully twirled her but in a way that she didn´t get the chance to look back. Instead, he twirled her further, a little deeper into the labyrinth. And unlike the first time when she had stubbornly entered it to save her brother, she was now following him on her own free will. She was guided by a friend. "It never changes." he gave back. "Some things are meant for eternity, precious one." She was following him now, no longer held by him.

"Not even you?" she asked, almost amused now.

"No," he almost dismissed it teasingly. "but now it is time to move on." He turned to face her.

"You have to leave?" She felt a sharp pang in her heart. He had returned to her, had returned her childhood, her dreams. The idea oft hem parting again so soon was unbearable.

"Yes." he said. „Will you join me?"

She didn´t think. She took his hand and didn´t let go as they walked on and vanished.

oooooooooooooo

When morning came, Katie found her mother´s bed empty. Worrying, with a feeling of dread, she ran down the stairs, called for her, but there was no reply. She looked in all the rooms, but there was no sign of her mother. Her shoes were still there, the keys had not been touched…but then she noticed her mother´s coat was missing.

She found her outside in the snow with a peaceful last smile on her face. There was nothing old about her features, oddly Katie fell to her knees, crying out, the first thought crossing her mind was that the old woman looked peaceful. As if she had gone home. As if the last thing she had seen had been something beautiful.

Somehere in the distance, an owl cried.