Not so long ago, a rather exhausted goblin king sat in a stone window. He leaned his back against the rough honed frame, one leg dangling on the side of his rather imposing castle. In his hands were crystal orbs that he swirled over his fingers with natural ease, gazing intensely into their seemingly transparent globes. A game, he thought, I need a game. Something to distract him from the bitterness of border wars and the constant noise of his goblins. Something different. As his thoughts circled through his mind so did a large town in one of the orbs. The goblin king focused upon the orb, a mortal town, he mused. When was the last time he thought to mingle with the peoples that populated the Aboveground? Many years, the last had been a young girl, too old to keep for a subject, too young to keep for himself. He sighed as he thought of her, tenacious girl. Lovely eyes and insolent innocence. He fleetingly thought of visiting her, perhaps in a dream, but quickly dismissed the idea. No, no, she was a mother now. As lovely of a game she would make, it could have detrimental results if somehow he were to lose. No her time in the labyrinth has passed. The goblin king liked the broken and the unwanted. What he needed was broken and unwanted with potential. He focused on the revolving mortal town. As he gazed, the town became clearer, twirling closer and closer in view. Slowly, the crystal focused on a red brick building, four stories high and old. Creeping ivy snaked up its sides. The view centered on window on the top floor of the building. A warm glow poured through and soon a pale face with a mess of dark curls came to it and threw it open. "I wish it was real!" the face cried to the stars and moon. There, thought the goblin king, there is my game.

~One day earlier~

Lucy woke to the sound of her insistent, obnoxious alarm. Slamming her hand on the snooze button she rolled over and gazed at the crimson numbers. Ugh, she thought, already seven. She heaved herself up rubbing her stiff shoulders and the sleep from her eyes. She turned the alarm off and stood up stretching. She tore through her closet for some clothes while longing for the open arms of her blankets and bed. "I'm too old for this shit," she said aloud.

Lucy's thirtieth birthday had passed a month ago. She was just a working stiff. Dropped out of college after a nervous breakdown, with no desire to go back. There were still so many lingering doubts and worries. She had a decent job at a used bookstore a couple of blocks from her decent apartment. She enjoyed her job, it was laid back and challenging when it needed to be. She smiled in her mirror as she turned to see her ass in her favorite jeans. She dashed from her room to the bathroom to smear some make up on her face to get to her favorite part of her morning, coffee.

Not too long, she had readied herself for work, made her thermos of coffee and scraped a meager lunch together. She checked her wallet for possible spare dollars, with no luck. Another day spent in minor hunger. I guess I shouldn't have bought that trilogy, she thought to herself, glancing at her overstuffed bookshelves. She snatched her keys from an end table and locked the door behind her.

~~

Lucy loved the old bookstore. It's towering, claustrophobic bookshelves in tight aisles, the musty smell of old paper and worn out bindings, the exposed red bricks, and of course Carl, the owner of the store. Carl was a crotchety old man with a love for epic fantasy and old, old books. He was a bent, decrepit man of almost eighty. He lost most of his hair and what was left was white and translucent. He restored books, which was his main focus. The bookstore, which Lucy mostly ran, was just a way to siphon money to his hobby and to pay his bills. Carl was fond of Lucy if not much else. They both had an understanding. Words were important and sacred. Both had the understanding that words should not be spent on the mundane and the inane. Quiet was appreciated. Except today, Carl had found something he considered rather special. He waited with time-tested patience for Lucy to come.

The front bell jingled signalling Carl that Lucy had arrived. He wove his way through the labyrinth of bookshelves until he came to the front counter and found Lucy, shaking off the morning fall chill. Her dark dark curls cascaded over her shoulders and over her brow. Her pale face was pink in the cheeks, her eyes lined with coal black. She had a long gray and black striped cardigan that came down to her mid thigh. True to Lucy trends. She was readying the front of the store, setting out new arrivals on the counter and counting the till. Carl cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Lucy looked up and smiled, "good morning Carl, love."

"Lucy dear," Carl greeted," I have something to show you. Something that you might like."

Lucy was intrigued. "Oh?" She asked, walking around the counter towards the bent old man. Carl nodded and turned to the back of the store towards his workshop. Lucy followed as he explained himself a little more.

"It is a book that I found some months ago. A single edition book that I have never heard of."

Lucy was shocked, Carl's memory for books in and out of print was unparalleled. "Really? What kind of book, Carl?"

"Oh just some short fantasy novel, straight to paperback, from the 1980's. Based on a movie. The Labyrinth? Does this sound familiar to you?"

Lucy stopped in her tracks. Familiar? She laughed in her mind. It was her favorite movie when she was very young. David Bowie as a rockstar Goblin King with a codpiece, Jim Henson and weird puppets. How could she not be familiar with it? She knew the print copy of the book was rare. She could never get her hands on it once she knew it was a book. Carl realized that she had stopped following him and turned to look at her. He smiled.

"So you're familiar?"

"Yes, very much so. Where in the world did you find it Carl?"

"Oh, some woman dropped it off with a box of other treasures. Come, come," he hustled her," It's in my office."

They went through an old door with a glass pane declaring "DO NOT ENTER" into Carl's office. Books and yellowed papers and empty bindings made haphazard piles on the floor around his desk and against the walls and shelves. rolls of different colored leather and vinyl leaned against the piles. Old world maps and lists were taped on the walls. There was a strong smell of rubbing alcohol and glue. various tools and magnifying glasses littered his desk top. Set to the side of Carl's latest restoration was a dark blue, beat to shit, paperback. Lucy saw the goblin king in all of his spike/punk hair, glitter glory.

"oh my goodness Carl, you really do have it!" Lucy couldn't keep in her excitement. Carl gave her a warm smile.

"My dear i know that I missed your birthday last month." He held up his hand as she opened her mouth, "And I thought this would be something you would adore, my little dark fantasy lover." his wrinkles folded into a higher smile, "So this is my gift to you. Keep it. I know it's going to the best home it could."

Lucy looked at him with her mouth slightly open. "Really? But Carl, this book is really rare! You could probably get three hundred for it from the right buyer."

Carl shook his head. "No Lucy dear, it is yours. I don't want to hear another word about it. It never belonged to me, always to you. You know books, they belong to whom they will. I would never deem to keep a book from a true owner for a little bit of profit." He picked up the book and held it out to Lucy who took it with baited breath.

"Carl, thank you! I appreciate the gesture. And I appreciate you!" She hugged the wizened old man, who patted her back embarrassingly.

"Now, now, don't make a big deal out if it. It's just a silly story for a silly young woman who still day dreams too much." He smiled as he went on." Go on, I don't pay you to sit in my office and be sentimental. shoo." He motioned for her to get back to her work. She smiled broadly and pressed the book to her chest.

"yes sir." She assented and marched back to the front of the store, her heart full of love for the little old man who loved stories as much as she did.

~~~~

Lucy walked home. The air had a crisp, decaying, yet clean smell to it. It was deep into fall, the leaves have changed and fallen, they swirled in little whirlwinds before her. The wind had a bite and the sun had since fallen just below the horizon. The street lamps were few and dim, casting orange light and shadows across the sidewalks past old buildings and little houses. It was a melancholy walk, one that Lucy loved. Everything here had a sense of past. past it's prime. There was once a thriving life here, people, street vendors, the stir of commerce. A brisk wind picked up suddenly that made Lucy snuggle deeper into her green wool coat and pick up her pace.

Lucy liked walking home alone. She like being alone with her thoughts and daydreams. When she was younger, she thought that this would interpret best into becoming a writer. She went to college with next to nothing and left it, broken, in debt and discouraged. Life was way more complicated than figuring out what you wanted to be in life. It was surviving in society, with rules that just didn't make sense. It was a twisted journey that left much wanting in her. She never understood why she felt so outside of everything. It was like nothing truly fit. She tried her options and everything was uncomfortable and not her. She wanted to dance. She wanted to fight. She wanted to play silly games and evil games. She wanted to feel not so broken.

Lucy was lonely. She wanted to live in her dreams, and no one was on the same page as her. She pushed people away, she knew that. But how could she be happy if she had to hide half of who she was? She was fiercely infatuated with the things that were impossible. Magic, spontaneous songs and dances, a soul mate that loved her to the ends of the earth and beyond. She felt strong in that world. The world of fey and creatures so strange and diverting. She longed for it with an ache that she could never share with the world she lived in. It wasn't real to them, only to her. She reached into her bag to pull out her beloved book. She stared at the cover, a smile playing on her face. Oh how she loved that world. The labyrinth felt right. The goblin king felt right. Everything felt right. She flipped open the book to a random page to read. She snapped the book shut before she could start. She stuffed it back in her bag, no, she thought. I'll keep it for when i get home. And she all but ran the rest of her way, sprinting along with little bursts of anticipation.

She finally reached her door in the quiet apartment building a little short on breath. The beautiful red brick building was a pre-war paper mill, renovated to hold ten small apartments. Her neighbors were quiet people, mostly married, childless couples, who kept to themselves. Lucy loved that. She set her bag on the table with her keys, flicked over some lamps and turned up her furnace. The old water heaters ticked themselves awake. She put on a pot of coffee to brew, it was almost eight at night, but this was her favorite time to drink coffee;at night. Friday night, nothing to do now, nothing to do in the morning. She took off her shoes and plugged in her phone. She rifled through her bag until she held THE LABYRINTH. She smiled as she opened it, smiled as she read. She read as she poured herself some coffee and continued to do so as she parked herself on her favorite chair. She read deep into the night. Stopping only to smoke half a joint and heat up leftovers for dinner. She ate her dinner and devoured her book. And after mere hours, she turned to the last page, a little sad to see it go. Lucy closed the book and hugged it to her breast. She was so happy, high from the pot, high from finishing a wonderful story. She went to her window and threw it open. She pushed her face into the moonlight, cold air tracing cold fingers across her face and over her scalp. The moon was swollen, white and bright. The night, clear and cold as it was, boasted a full sky of stars, unusually luminous. Lucy felt happiness to burst, but as always, it was tainted with a sadness she just couldn't shake. She wished for a labyrinth of her own. If only it was real...

"I WISH IT WAS REAL!" she cried, tears rolling down her cheek. Then, as if suddenly aware of what she was doing, Lucy flung herself inside and slammed the window shut. She took a breath and looked around her small apartment. Shabby, but clean and familiar. Bookcases dotted around the open floor plan. She kept breathing slowly as she tried to even out her emotions. She read the book titles of her collection like a soothing mantra. Soon she felt more even, a little more relaxed. Lucy went to her freezer and pulled out an almost forgotten carton of cigarettes. She walked back to her chair, took out a pack and threw the carton on the table with her keys. As she lit a cigarette, a large gust of wind shook her windows and all three of her lamps blew out, pitching the room into semi darkness. Moonlight streamed through a couple of windows, throwing more shadows than light. Lucy sparked the lighter in reflex to the sudden onslaught of dark. Her heart beating her ribs like a moth in a jar. "Fuck," she cursed to herself. She turned to light a couple of candles scattered artfully around the room. The lighter dissolved some shadows as she moved, pushing them back until a face was revealed. Lucy jerked back as if she was shot. The lighter snuffed out and she tumbled backwards over a low table.

As she scrambled to sit up, the face moved closer. Otherworldly and masculine, it had strange sharp planes over the cheeks and high arched eyebrows that cut up into a smooth, clear brow. Strips of blonde hair spiked wildly around the face and down almost to his shoulders. A black cloak, with a high collar, draped down his shoulders and arms, shooting sparks into the dark as it caught the moonlight. Lucy's breath caught in her throat, the moth in her chest evolved into a bird in her throat. She pushed herself from the floor, standing, she was about the same height as the strange being's chest. The fey creature let a haughty smile play on his lips and brought his hand up to reveal a smooth crystal orb. In a strange, though not so far-fetched sense of deja vu, Lucy said the first thing that came to her mind.

"You're him. You're the Goblin King."