And No Bird Sings 1
Chapter 1 Goblin Market
Looking at the clock, Sarah decided it was late enough to call Karen. She heaved herself to her feet and got her cell phone. Sarah pushed the speed dial for home. Sarah looked at Karen as more of a mother figure. Finally, Karen answered the phone. "Hello," she said.
"Hey, Karen, how are you?"
"Oh, Sarah!" Karen exclaimed. "I'm so glad you called. I was wondering if you were going to call today."
Sarah laughed to herself. "Yeah, well, why would I miss a chance to call home?" In the background, Sarah heard Toby yelling.
"Hang on a minute, Toby. Mommy's on the phone with Sarah. You can talk to her in a minute."
"How's he doing?" Sarah asked.
"Toby's good. He's gotten so big. He was rotten yesterday at Aunt Mildred's. Got into everything." Sarah laughed.
"He's a born troublemaker."
"Don't we just know it? No, Toby, don't throw your Cheerios." Karen gave a frustrated sigh. "Anyway, how are you doing Sarah?"
"I'm ok."
"Just ok? Sick of parties and stars yet?"
"I would be if I ever saw any. Linda's been too busy."
"Well, you just tell me if you want to come home. I'll have your dad change the date immediately."
"Yeah, I know you've told me that since I came out here. Is Toby really that much of a brat?" Sarah asked, laughing. Karen launched into an explanation. Toby somehow got the phone from his mother and started talking to Sarah in his three-year-old baby talk. Now, though sometimes he got on her nerves, Sarah did not resent Toby. She loved him and doted on him more than ever. She listened patiently, but only got half of what he was saying. Then as suddenly as Toby came on the phone he went off.
"I'm sorry Sarah." Karen laughed. "He decided that he wanted to talk to you and you know Toby once he gets something in his head."
Sarah laughed. "Yeah I know. He's—tenacious." Sarah's stomach rumbled interrupting their conversation. She sighed and listened to Karen absently, as she rummaged through the kitchen for food. There wasn't any, or at least anything that interested Sarah. She could only have left over pizza or Chinese so many times before she was sick of it.
"Hey, Karen, I'm gonna let you go. I'm hungry and there's nothing I want to eat."
"Doesn't Linda cook for you?"
"No, and I'm not sure that I want to find out what her cooking is like. She's not the homemaker type." Sarah replied. She went to the entry way table where she knew the standard note from Linda was. There was always a twenty with the note. Sarah grabbed it.
"Well, when you come home, I'll make your favorite meal." Karen replied.
Sarah smirked to herself. "Thanks, Karen. What time should I call tonight? I wanna talk to Dad?"
"Oh, your D-A-D will be home around eight, our time." Karen replied. "Sorry, for spelling it out, Toby hears that word and cries for hours for him."
Sarah laughed. "Yeah, all right I'll call then. Talk to you later. Love you guys."
"Love you too. Have a good day." They hung up the phone. She could hear her yelling at Toby to get the dog off the tab Sarah did wish she could be there. Her mother had cowed into coming. Of course, Sarah was desirous to prove her independence to her family.
However, just like her dreams, this trip was like a bubble—insubstantial. She sighed again. It seemed that every time her mother made promises. They were insipid—flimsy, like the little flickers of fame and youth that Linda clung to so dearly. Every year her boyfriends got younger and her dresses got shorter. Pretty soon, Linda would be wearing nothing and dating Sarah's boyfriends.
"Not that I have one." She muttered. Being the weird girl in junior high hadn't helped Sarah progress with boys at all in high school. She didn't really care. She was more mature than most of the boys anyway.
Sighing, Sarah went to the refrigerator to scour the leftovers. There wasn't anything that she particularly cared for. She wrinkled her nose, and grabbed the twenty-dollar bills from the counters and started towards the beach.
When she opened the door, a neon green flyer fluttered to her feet. She picked it up and read it.
"Cabalus Market:
Our grapes fresh from the vine, Pomegranates full and fine, Rare pears and greengages, Damsons and bilberries, Taste them and try: Currants and gooseberries, Bright-fire-like barberries, Figs to fill your mouth, Citrons from the South, Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;
Come buy! Come buy!"
Sarah laughed at the flyer. "Cute," she mumbled. "Maybe I'll stop by if I get bored." Sarah got on her swimsuit and grabbed her beach gear. She started for the beach.
Sarah found a spot and laid her things out. She slipped off her jean shorts. After applying a generous layer of sunscreen, Sarah settled down on her towel. She relaxed and reached her hand slowly into her bag for the novel she was reading. Her hand found a book, but it didn't feel right. Furrowing her brow, Sarah pulled the book. The red leather bound volume came into view. Sarah screamed and chucked the book as hard as she could.
When she realized how ridiculous she seemed, her face flushed red. "Stupid spiders." She muttered trying to explain. After she regained her senses, Sarah snatched the book up. She tried to calm her beating heart, and shaking hands.
Feeling a little silly, she shoved the book roughly back into her bag. "You still have no power over me, Goblin King." She muttered. She knew it was him. He was trying to scare her. She wrinkled her nose. She was getting too grounded for him probably. Somewhere deep within herself, Sarah felt that the Labyrinth was just a jumbled up dream. Yet, she was so attached to all the people she'd met and she'd never been able to eat peaches again. Forgetting the Labyrinth, Sarah lay down on the beach and soaked up the happiness of the sun—no oubliettes here.
A loud rumbling in her stomach woke Sarah from her light doze. She sat up and looked at her phone to check the time. It was already three pm. "Man," she said getting up from her stomach. "I can't believe I fell asleep." She pulled her shorts on and gathered up her towel. Her stomach rumbled loudly again. She didn't want to go home. Linda would be rushing to get ready for her next party at three.
She played the usual conversation over in her head. Linda would burst into the house. Her twenty two year old boyfriend would be waiting in the car while she took a quick shower and got ready. She would pop out of the shower and "throw on" a dress. (By throw on, she would take twenty dresses out and try them all on in record time. Then try on ten of them, and then five, and then whittle her way down to the dress she was going to wear) Sarah would usually come up the stairs just about as Linda was starting to dry hair.
"Mom," she always said that word with a bad taste in her mouth. Mom was a person who didn't divorce dad to strike out on a wild acting career. Mom was the woman who got the two year old and the dog off the table. "Insert flavor of the week here is waiting down stairs for you."
"Oh thanks, Sarah. I'm sorry you can't go. This was just short notice. Tell him I'll be down in a minute." She would reply. Sarah would turn to leave, but Linda would stop her. "Oh sweetie, you didn't say that you were my daughter did you?"
The first time Sarah heard this question, she was hurt that her mother would be so cruel. "No," she would reply. "He didn't ask."
"Well if he does say you're my cousin, or my niece or something."
"Ok," she'd reply. And with that, Sarah would go back down stairs and surf the internet some more, ignoring the awkward stranger.
After experiencing that a few times, Sarah made it a point to be out. If Linda really needed her for anything, she'd call her. Sarah's opinion of her mother had changed greatly in the past three years, especially since she realized that she didn't need her dreams as much to help her cope. Instead, she looked to Karen. Where Linda had failed, Karen succeeded. Fortunately, Karen didn't have to work, and was able to stay home with Toby. Sarah liked it this way better. It was more comfortable. Unlike Linda's empty beach house and constant partying.
Sarah was still considering these things when a garish street sign caught her attention. It was bright yellow and had "Cabalus Market" painted on in gothic block lettering. Sarah looked at the usually empty lot. A renaissance style fair stood in neat little rows selling their wares. There was something sinister about the place; something that was off. In the back of Sarah's mind, she didn't think she should go in. But when did she ever do the things that she should? Sarah pulled the flyer out of her bag and red over the quaint poetry again. This would be amusing at least and she really did hope they had a large selection of fruit—except peaches.
Sarah meandered through the lines of the fair making her way to the back. It really was like a wanna-be renaissance fair. Only, whoever designed it really put a lot of thought and effort into it. It almost looked like something from the Labyrinth—here again her fight and flight synapses were crossed. Instead of thinking that the similarities between the Labyrinth and the market were a dangerous thing, Sarah only thought about how gimmicky is was. To her, it was almost hammy. Sarah snorted at the thought of that word. It had been her favorite word before. She loved to call things hammy. Now she only used it when something was really overdone—like Linda. She thought bitterly.
Light music twinkled through the air as Sarah neared the center of the market. She saw a crowd standing around something. Curiosity fully piqued, Sarah forced her way to the front of the crowd. There was a troop of belly dancers there. They moved seductively in time with the music. They wore gold, light green and black dresses. Their skin was painted gold. They swayed like snakes to the beat. Their shining skin, sultry movements, and music mesmerized Sarah. She was captivated, entirely captivated. They moved closer and closer to the onlookers. If the people were coherent, they would have noticed that the dancers were pulling men and women away from their families and to a tent. One moved close to Sarah, holding her with a steady gaze. Sarah felt like she was pinned to her spot and she couldn't move even if she wanted to, (which she didn't). The dancer took Sarah's hand. Sarah stood mesmerized, but then came to reality, when a forked tongue flicked out of the woman's mouth. It touched two golden plates on the woman's forehead Something jerked Sarah back. This wasn't human whatever it was.
Her bleary mind processed the only thing that it could—flight. Sarah receded back into the crowds still trying to shrug the charmed sleep from her thoughts. The further she moved away from the dancers the better she felt. She wandered until she was almost at the back of the market. She stopped next to a water fountain to get a drink and finally clear her mind. She stood there breathing heavily. Something from deep within told Sarah to run for the exit—to run away from the fair, but she didn't listen. After the Labyrinth, she'd repeatedly told herself that she could manage any situation, and this was just a new situation. She could handle herself
She saw a fruit stand and walked over to it. She was absent-mindedly browsing the fruit when a voice startled her.
"A peach for the peach?" He asked. Sarah looked to her left and was immediately faced with a peach. She looked down the arm of a man and up to a handsome face. He had sharp features and smiled wildly showing his teeth. His eyes were a strange dusky grey. Sarah stepped back and regarded the gift as well as the being offering it. She knew that he was off.
"I'm allergic." She replied. It wasn't the full truth, but like the adage said, "The truth was stranger than the fiction."
"It's a pity. Peaches are quiet delectable." The man said. His voice sounded very sensual when he said delectable. Sarah started to move away feeling a less confident after her encounter with the dancer. She knew that this was not just some hammy makeshift fair; a lot of this was real faery stuff. The fruit was probably laced.
"Yeah, had one once, it was not good."
"Well, my lovely dear, take your pleasure in looking. If anything pleases you feel free to take."
"If I take it then you don't make any money. Sarah reasoned.
"Only if I do it to a lot of customers." He replied still smiling. "I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm horribly overpriced. This way it covers when I let the women take what the want."
"All the women?" Sarah asked.
"Only the most beautiful ones." He replied rakishly. Sarah blushed and stepped back.
"Well, since I don't fit in that category, I'm going to check out the competition." She turned to walk away.
"Sarah," the man called. She turned around at the mention of her name. "One for travels." He tossed her something. Sarah deftly caught the object and looked at it. It was a large rip plumb. Sarah held the plum tentatively, and though about throwing it back to him. There was something treacherous going on here, but she couldn't decide what it was. She move to throw it back to him, but he stopped her. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth." Sarah regarded him, and then accepted the plum.
"Thank you." She replied and walked away. As she walked away, a small voice urged her to throw the plum as far away as she could. The message never made it to her limbs
An empty house greeted Sarah, not that she figured anything would be any different, but she had some small hope that her mother would be home. She wanted to tell her about the strange fair, and then have her throw the fruit out the window. Sarah seemed incapable to get rid of it herself; she'd tried several times on the way home.
Once she was in the kitchen, Sarah set the plum on the far side of the counter as she prepared to make a fruit salad. She avoided the plum for the rest of the evening. It made her nervous. The last time she'd eaten strange fruit, it induced a wild dream.
The rest of Sarah's day was uneventful. She watched television and got on the internet until it was dark outside. Hungry, she went to rummage for the last of her fruit salad, but found she'd eaten it all. She huffed in frustration. The plum sitting on the far corner of the counter caught her attention. The dark purple skin contrasted with the sleek white counter top, begging her to sink her teeth into the flesh. She turned away from the plum. She'd rummaged through the pantry, refrigerator, freezer, and all the cupboards three times before she realized that there was absolutely nothing to eat.
She approached the plum apprehensively, and stared at it like it was about it bite her. "Are you from him?" She asked it. "I bet you are." Then she stopped talking to it. "Great, I've gone insane." She grabbed the fruit and washed it.
Once she dried it off, Sarah went back into the living room, holding it to her mouth. She opened her mouth to bite it, but couldn't bring herself too. She sighed. "Stop it Sarah, you're being ridiculous. The Goblin king has no power over you remember." She coaxed herself.
In an act of imagined defiance to an imaginary foe, Sarah ferociously bit into the plum. Her entire body went rigid as it prepared to combat what ever happened next.
Nothing happened.
"Oh my word, Sarah, you need a head doctor." She told herself feeling foolish for letting herself dramatize the situation. She continued to eat the plum as she walked back into the living room.
"She's not your daughter. She's mine!" Sarah woke up at the sound of Karen's voice yelling at someone. She furrowed her brow and tried to understand what was going on. She felt something up her nose and pulled it off. It was an oxygen tank. She still didn't understand. Sarah opened her eyes a little more widely trying to take in her surroundings.
"I had her you didn't." Linda replied angrily.
"Yeah, you had her and left her." Karen retorted. "If you had been watching her properly, this wouldn't have happened."
Now fully awake, Sarah realized that she was in a hospital room. She straightened and stared around her wildly. "Why am I in the hospital?"
Her father sat sleeping in a chair on the right side of the room. "Dad!" Sarah yelled. He woke up with a start, and gawked at her.
"Sarah, you're awake!" He said sitting forward.
"What's going on?" She asked. He crossed the room and enveloped her in a hug.
"We were so worried about you. When your mom called and said that you were in the hospital—"
"Dad," Sarah repeated. "What's going on? Why am I in the hospital?"
Robert stopped squeezing his daughter and looked at her squarely in the eyes. He didn't say anything and then hugged her again. "You had us all so worried. I'm so glad you're awake."
"Yeah, I got that part." Sarah retorted still annoyed. "But why am I in the hospital?"
"We're not sure." He answered finally, and then launched into an explanation. "When you didn't call, Karen got worried. Linda found you the next day passed out on the floor." Karen walked into the room looking upset.
Her mood immediately changed when she saw Sarah. "Oh, Sarah, sweetie, how are you?"
"Confused," She replied. "I wish I knew what was going on?"
"Us too, we were so worried about you. Your father was able to get us out here to come see you. I'm glad we could." Karen say on the edge of the bed. "The doctors are running tests now to find out what's wrong." Karen explained. "We're going to find out why you passed out for three days."
Sarah was quiet the as all the information sank in. She stared absently at pink blanket covering her legs. She picked at the fuzzies on the cover while Karen explained everything that had happened to her. She didn't need the doctors to tell her what was wrong. She already knew—the Goblin King.
As her parents discussed what to do next, Sarah's mind wandered back to the plum. All of this was his fault; she thought it was childish of him to retaliate. She ignored her common sense that violently repeated, "I told you not to stupid girl." She wasn't about to accept any blame for what was happening. It was the Goblin King's fault. He was the one who gave her the peach.
"You didn't have to eat it, or take it." The voice repeated. Sarah sniffed and looked out the window. Linda was standing in the hall brooding. She glowered hotly at Karen. Sarah couldn't tell if it was from the prior fight or if Linda hated not being the center of everyone's world. Sarah didn't care. She looked back to Karen who was very intently listening to a doctor who'd just walked in.
Of course, the doctors didn't know what was wrong with her, and sent her home. Karen refused to let Sarah spend any more time with Linda, not that Sarah truly minded. Not having Linda in her life was nothing new to Sarah; there had been far too many broken promises in their relationship ever to allow anything stronger to bloom. Now, Sarah returned home with a hope that whatever this was would soon pass—not so.
She spent the next six weeks in the hospital, while the doctors pinched, poked, and prodded her. None of them could find any deficiency in her system, or any mutation in her DNA. All anyone could tell was that she passed out, sometimes for hours, sometimes for days. As school neared, Sarah grew restless. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life in a hospital; she wanted to continue in her life, and this was stopping her. Finally, she put an end to the doctors.
"Sarah," her father said, "are you sure?"
"Yes. Dad, it's been a month and a half, and they haven't found anything. I'm tired of going to the doctors. Maybe if I don't go, I'll get better."
"How does that follow?" Karen asked. "Doctors make you better, not worse."
Sarah had to recover quickly by saying, "Well, what if they're exposing me to things while I'm there. Not like purposely. But you know a lot of people get sicker when they go to the doctor just because that's where all the sick people go."
Karen gave her a skeptical look. "Are you really that tired of the doctor, Sarah?" Karen asked earnestly. Sarah nodded.
"Yes, I'm sick of people poking me with needles, and then telling me I'm fine. I just want to be normal." Sarah replied. Karen sighed and put a hand on Sarah's shoulder.
"All right, well, you're father and I will talk about it."
"Thanks Karen." Sarah said. She gave her stepmother a hug.
That was the last of the doctor issue. Sarah didn't have to return again, nor would she under any circumstances, even when the symptoms got worse.
Sarah went back to high school, fully planning to enjoy her senior year. She thought that the worst of the fainting spells were over. A nurse at one of the hospitals taught her a technique for handling them, and she felt assured that she could. Besides this was just another thing to handle.
Three weeks into school, Sarah stopped sleeping. At night, she would lay in bed, unable to sleep. It went on for a month before Karen said anything. The first night it happened, Sarah assumed that it was a fluke. Then a sleepless weak passed. She would stay up all
"Sarah, you look sick. Are you all right?"
Wearily, Sarah craned her neck towards Karen's voice. "Huh? Oh, yeah, just didn't sleep well."
"Still?"
"No, I haven't been able to sleep for a month, Karen." Sarah replied. "I try, but nothing happens. I can't think clearly; I can't do anything. I don't know what to do." Sarah choked back some of the tears that were welling up in her throat. Karen came to her side and put a comforting arm around Sarah's shoulder.
"Maybe we should—"
"No, no doctors. Karen, I just can't go back to them. They don't know anything anyway."
"Well, at least let's get you to one who can write you a prescription for sleeping pills." That Sarah would agree to do. She got the pills, and they helped some, but still there were many nights she couldn't sleep.
Still, Sarah determined to press on. She felt that nothing would make the Goblin King angrier than her defiance at his futile attempts to ruin her life. She tried to be involved at school, though it was sometimes very trying on her. Hoping that her friends would know something, Sarah tried hailing them in her mirror. They never came—yet another punishment from the petulant Goblin King.
He's just like a spoiled three year old. Sarah thought. Throwing a tantrum. I really wish—She stopped the train of thought there.
"You're falling back into bad habit, Sarah." She told her reflection. "You can't go around wishing things."
Feeling exhausted from the constant mental battle she waged against her better judgment just to give up the ghost, Sarah folded her arms on the dresser top, and put her chin on them.
Then a thought struck her, "Maybe if I wish myself better." She mused aloud.
Sitting up ramrod straight, she pretended that she was Juliet calling out to Romeo. (Which, she thought in retrospect, was a dumb play to pull from. Everyone ends up dead.)
Sarah rushed to her window. She threw the sash open and leaned forward. Dramatically reaching out to some unknown destination, Sarah cried, "I wish I were better again!"
Some small part of her expected a giant clap of thunder, and a lightening flash, but nothing happened. Sarah slouched and laughed wryly. "I wonder if insanity is a part of this curse, or maybe just talking to myself is."
Feeling more defeated than before, Sarah threw herself on her bed and began heaving sighs. It wasn't fair! He had to play by the rules. She made a wish; he should honor it. Those were the rules—but Jareth never played by the rules anyway.
It was almost Christmas time, before a new symptom appeared. Thus far, only the fainting spells and long sleepless nights bothered her. She woke up that morning after experiencing a rare commodity—a good night's rest. Her stomach felt a little queasy, but she chalked that up to her monologue she had to recite for drama class. Nothing out of the ordinary, just some nerves acting up. At least that's what she told herself.
She was halfway through Lady Macbeth's monologue when the wave of nausea blasted over her. She stopped, hoping the teacher would read it as a dramatic pause, and closed her eyes.
"Sarah," the teacher called. Apparently, the pause seemed more like a forgetting of lines. "Do you need a prompt?"
"Uh, no, I—I—excuse me." She whispered. She bolted for the bathroom. She was going to vomit. She barely made it to the bathroom before her stomach emptied out it's contents. She couldn't make it to the nurses office, and by the time Sarah got home, she as vomiting blood. It didn't stop for an entire week. She couldn't eat; she couldn't sleep. She couldn't even leave the bathroom. She tried everything, even doctor prescriptions; nothing worked.
Finally, two weeks later, Sarah stopped. She had to take nutrients intravenously since anything she tried putting in her mouth usually didn't stay down. Her body had regulated itself, and she returned to school. Though, she wished that she hadn't.
Just because her world stopped, didn't mean that the school stopped with her. Sarah had never really been popular among the other girls. Most of them just made fun of her. Rumors spread as quickly and as violently as her illness did. The final straw came from what she thought was her best friend, Allison.
"So, what's going on with you Sarah?" Allison asked one day as the girls changed books between classes.
"Nothing, why?" Sarah replied absently. She was more interested in the notes she was studying for the French quiz next hour.
"Well, I guess if you don't want to talk about it." Allison replied, feigning hurt in her voice. Sarah looked up from her notes and stared at Allison quizzically.
"What am I not wanting to talk about?"
"Well, I mean, being pregnant is a big deal, but if you don't want to talk about it with your best friend, I guess I'll wait until you're ready."
Sarah's green eyes grew wide. "You're pregnant?" She asked in a hushed tone. If Allison was pregnant, Sarah didn't want people to hear.
"Not me!" Allison yelled. "You! Have the drugs really fried your brain that bad."
Sarah drew her dark eyebrows together. She blinked at Allison a few times, trying to understand what she was talking about. Drugs? Pregnant? "What are you talking about? I'm not using anything that's not prescribed, and I'm most definitely not pregnant! Where would you get that from?" Sarah retorted.
"Well, I heard that you were taking some kind of pill—" Allison started.
"Yeah, a sleeping aid. You knew that already." Sarah cut in, her tone accusing.
"Then, when you were gone for all that time, throwing up. Well, everyone just thought that you were—" Allison mumbled.
"Allison! You're not everyone. You're my best friend. You know me better than that. I've never even had a boyfriend."
"Don't be so conventional Sarah. You don't have to have a boyfriend." Allison replied. Sarah rolled her eyes.
"Well, still." Sarah replied effectively ending the conversation, and in some ways the friendship. If someone, who'd she been friends with since she was three, would believe the nasty rumor about her, then Sarah didn't need her as a friend. She already had enough enemies.
Two months later Sarah left the public school system in favor of suffering through homeschooling. In some ways, homeschooling let her have more freedom. She was free to suffer without ridicule, (unless Karen got overly worried.) In others, homeschooling trapped her in her own little world, again. Only this world wasn't a fantasy, it was more like a never ending nightmare of doctors, neddles, feeding tubes, and dark circles under her eyes.
Sarah finished high school in May, and then started the ever ongoing battle with Karen to let her go to college.
"Oh, com'on, Karen. It's college. I can't live here forever. I need to learn to do something productive with my life."
"Sarah, sweetie, I know you want to get out on your own, but you're always so sick."
"Maybe if I get on my own, I'll get better." Sarah said. Somewhere in her life, Sarah had learned to use illogical logic. Sometimes it worked.
"We tried that with doctors, and we all know where that landed you." Karen replied, with a note of admonishment in her voice.
"Hey, I left school because people are nasty little backbiting goblins."
Karen gave her a sharp look.
"Please Karen; my grades are high enough that I can get a scholarship at West Bordensboro University." Karen looked at her pointedly. "I checked, and I even—hang on—"
Sarah ran upstairs. She returned with a paper. She waved it in her hands. "I got accepted to it."
"SARAH!" Karen yelled.
"What? I was taking initiative." Sarah handed the paper over to her stepmother.
Karen furrowed her brow, but took the letter. She skimmed over the letter of acceptance. She sighed and looked at Sarah. "All right, I'll talk to your father about it. See what he says."
"Really?" Sarah asked her face lighting up with glee. Karen nodded. "Oh, thank you Karen." Sarah embraced her stepmother, and then gleefully went back to her room.
September rolled around, and Sarah enrolled in the local college under the stipulation that she would get a roommate. She did, and began her college career with some semblance of freedom. She tried to participate as much as possible in her classes. Though she had to take a major in writing, Sarah was always active in the plays.
Ever since she'd had the illness, Sarah had tried to show the Goblin King that he had no power over her, no matter what he did. She hated him for her condition, but constantly told herself that he was a spoiled brat, behaving like a little child. She was above that and would put every little ounce of energy she could muster into letting him know that she truly was the champion of the Labyrinth, and that he had no power over her.
All right, so my first full length Labyrinth fiction. Please be honest and tell me what you think! I honestly don't mind flames, but I prefer constructive criticism. And yes, this seems a little Sarah centric, but worry not! Jareth will make an appearance soon. R&R.
TTFN
Baby Turtle