Chapter 1 : Whatever Happened to Sarah Williams?

Sarah Williams sat in her contemporary London flat. It seemed so very cold to her now. Not that it had ever been a place of warmth. After all, she had only rented it as somewhere to live during her tour of Europe with the Not-so-Royal Shakespeare Company, it wasn't home. Her decorative taste hadn't been an issue when she saw how strangely cheep the place was. It really was an unexplainable bargain, but God. . . was it ugly! She hated the décor, detested the white walls, and felt nauseated over the stainless steel appliances. . . but hey, it was only temporary right? Haha! Temporary contemporary! But anyway. . . now that the tour was over she'd be heading home to the U.S., staying in her old room with Dad, Karen, and Toby, while she looked for her own place "across the pond". Her role as Lady Macbeth had been fun and a major boost for her career, but she did miss her family. Even Karen didn't seem so bad after puberty finally called it quits (though the gigantic Atlantic ocean separating them didn't hurt either). She missed all her friends, but whom Sarah missed most was her little brother Toby. Well, maybe not so little anymore. Toby would be about 14 by now, but regardless, he would always be her little brother. She wasn't exactly sure how the deep connection with her once despised younger sibling had formed, but somewhere around his toddler years she had simply developed a sudden strong adoration and responsibility for him. Any deep thinking on how or why these warm feeling had suddenly arisen left Sarah very tired and with the migraine to beat all migraines. Eventually she had stopped trying to figure it out all together, accepting the terms that if she didn't give up she'd have to actually invest in Tylenol.

Sarah stretched and ran her fingers through her long brown hair. Just then, the clock hanging in the nearby kitchen struck midnight. For some reason, the rhythmic "bong bong bong" of the thing always startled her. Her heart would begin to pound. Sweat would bead on her forehead, and she would faithfully count each hour "1…2…3.. . . . 11…12…"

"I don't know why I always expect something to happen when that damn thing strikes twelve", she complained to herself, stretching out on the black patent leather couch (another contempist atrocity). "it's almost like there's something missing. . . another bong maybe (she yawned) . . . or perhaps one too many bongs in college. . .mmhmm. . . " and with thoughts of academic debauchery fresh in her mind Sarah Williams drifted off to sleep.

The plane ride wasn't horribly bad. Then again, what plain ride is spectacular? The damn currents just don't aid one in going east to west as they do the other direction, but 17 hours after Sarah bid her apartment a non-regretful adieu, she was setting her bags into her dad's old Ford and heading through the airport gates back to her childhood home. Not much had changed since she'd left. As she settled her things into her old room, she noted that it still resembled the one she had left, same furniture and basic style, but all her personal belongings had either been long packed away or taken with her to college and then the UK. It was, after all, not actually her room anymore, but a guest room with friendly décor from her past.

"Wooooo!" Toby exclaimed as he plopped down on Sarah's bed "Look what the cat dragged in!".

"Hey little brother" Sarah grinned "are you married yet?".

"Lame Sarah. Really lame" Toby joked "plus, shouldn't I be the one asking you that? Mid-twenties. . . . no steady boyfriend. . . your biological clock is ticking sis." Toby was only slightly stunned by the mouth full of goose down pillow he received. The reunited siblings sat there for quite some time, trading stories and poking fun, but soon Karen called them down for dinner.

"Oh Sarah" Karen commented, "I hope you don't mind, but the grocery was out of cauliflower and I know it's your favorite, not that I can stand the mushy stuff." Though Karen and Sarah were no longer arch rivals, it was still strange to hear any sort of actual conversation between the two. Their world now consisted of pleasant small talk and general indifference on both parts.

"No, Karen, don't worry, carrots are fine" Sarah reassured through her mask of tolerance. That is, after all, the least we can expect from any old foe.

The next day, Sarah's father brought in a huge stack of newspapers.

"Can't wait to get rid of me dad?" She joked.

"Now Sarah, what kind of a dad would I be if I didn't want my daughter to get a jump on her apartment hunting? It's a hard market as of late. You could be stuck here with your old man for quite some time, not that I'd mind. . ." he sank onto the bed and wrapped her into a bear hug. Sarah couldn't remember the last time Robert had been so affectionate with her. It was almost like the pre-Toby days. Just like a man to start acting the role of daddy when his daughter was starting to be too old to need one. At present though, Sarah let herself regress into a world of fairies and goblin kings, cuddling into her fathers embrace. "Fairies and goblin kings?" Sarah thought to herself "what an odd thought. . ." . Just out or earshot the living-room clock struck thirteen. . .

The days wore on. . . her father had been right. No matter how many apartments or lofts Sarah set up tours for, she found them all either horribly overpriced for her small thespian savings, or unbearably reminiscent of a college dorm room. After three weeks of searching there had only been one promising prospect, but Sarah had to dismiss it when a cockroach that could only be described as a penny loafer with legs had scuttled between her own fashionable yet affordable boots. Defeated once again she returned to her childhood home and threw herself onto the couch.

"What's wrong sis?" Toby said through a mouth full of microwave burrito, over the din of a mid-afternoon talk show.

"Your sister is going to be living with her parents until she's thirty. . ." she groaned, throwing herself back and abusively covering her face with a throw pillow.

"That's what? A few more months? Well. . . I suppose I'll have to deal. . ."

"Toby!" Sarah reprimanded in mock rage, "I am far from thirty!" and with that Toby found the remains of his delicious Mexican snack snatched from his grasp and in the jaws of the most fearsome of creatures. . . hungry-woman-denying-her-age.

Another week went by with no luck. "Sarah. . . " said her father one day, "perhaps if it looks like you'll be with us a while, you wouldn't mind going through some of your old things. It's all in the basement, and I know it'd make Karen happy if you'd clear it out. She wants to put in a hot tub. . ."

"a hot tub? Well now I'll never leave!" Sarah groaned with mock pleasure imagining the soothing powers of warm jetted water. "I guess that wouldn't be a problem, it'll be sort of nice to see all that junk again"

"Thanks honey"

"not a prob dad, if I'm gunna be stuck with you old people I might as well get comfortable; having my stuff will make the guest room far more homey" and with that Sarah gave her father a jovial kiss on the forehead and bounced off to the kitchen.

The next morning Sarah put on some old sweatpants and headed into the basement. Karen was very organized and Sarah's belongings were quickly recovered from beneath some boxes marked Halloween Décor. Seemingly, rubber skeletons and plastic pumpkins became much more refined when one used the French term rather than the drawn out English one. . . but no matter, with a little bit of elbow grease Sarah quickly had all her boxes stacked in the guest room and all the "décor" back on the basement shelves.

"Phew!" she panted, flinging herself onto the old poster bed, "I didn't know I had so much stuff". After regaining her composure she reached down and hauled a random box onto the mattress beside her. Inside were many of her 1980's atrocities, spandex, scrunchies, and even an old Air Supply album. Bah! Laughing Sarah flung most of the items onto the designated rummage sale pile, but when she came to the last item she paused. Softly, she lifted the gauzy white fabric from its place. The poet's shirt seemed timeless. It hadn't aged a day since she had last slipped it onto her supple frame. When was that anyway? Smiling Sarah quickly disrobed and pulled on her old friend. "Wow" she thought looking down, "It sure fits a little differently than when I was 15". The next box held nothing special, just a few records and old possessions that had meant something to her when she'd originally packed the box, the valentine from Bobby Giovanni in tenth grade, a few post cards from her grandma, junk mostly. It was quickly sorted through as were the next three crates. Then Sarah found it, her box of treasures. Tucked inside an old trunk was everything Sarah had ever loved as a child, her little dwarf bookends, her stuffed animals, that wooden game with the ball you had to guide through the maze, and finally her copy of The Labyrinth. "What amazing day dreams we had together old friend" she whispered to the red leather book, if Toby only knew! Sarah felt a little ashamed at that. It wasn't Toby's fault she'd been jealous of and annoyed by him when he was a baby. How many times had Sarah wished her fabled Goblin King would whisk her brother away. . . "well, actually, only once" she thought to herself, but she'd fantasized about it constantly. Poor baby Toby, cursed with a babysitter who pretended to wish him away. What a day dream that had been, it had been so vivid and alive that afterwards Sarah couldn't allow herself to even imagine wising Toby away. "What an overactive imagination I had", she sighed. She'd been influenced by all her baubles, forming a fairy land around her to hide the pain of rejection she'd felt from Karen. Her adult mind saw it all clearly now, how the bookends, and the game, the red leather book and that infernal statue of the Goblin Ki. . . . Unreasonable panic rose in Sarah's chest . . . where was the statue! Shouldn't it have been in the box with the other toys? Flinging herself off the bed Sarah quickly rummaged through the remaining boxes, only to be disappointed time and time again. "Where are you!" she asked determinedly if not a little annoyed by her sudden discomfort, "Oh, where could you be! Always causing trouble! This is just like you Jareth. . .".

And there it was. . . she had said his name. . .