Disclaimer: I will only say this once….and only in this chapter. I do not own "Labyrinth" or any of Jim Henson's other creations. Nor do I own the David Bowie (one could wish), Jennifer Connelly, or any brand/celebrity name used. I'm not making a profit here. I'm writing things I want to write! So, in conclusion, please don't sue me!
This is my first attempt at ANY sort of fan fiction, so be gentle, but please comment often!
Thanks much, your faithful author,
BlytheSarita
Golden Threads
Ch. 1:
Time had been reworked. The fates knew it, as their threads had many knots, and they often untied the cord from the beginning of it's time, and repositioned it. Each time the council of elders reordered time in a massive way, a cord needed to be moved. This time it was big. The soul of a young girl had to be put into a different body. Destiny demanded a twisted and confusing plot. But how to keep the original events intact? An idea formed, spells were cast. The fates resumed their weaving, drawing the golden strands closer and closer in their grand tapestry.
Christmas Day was NOT Sarah's favorite day of the year. Sure, it used to be her favorite day. That, however, was back when she was a selfish child, and cared only for the delicious food and amazingly fun presents. This day, just like all the rest, found Sarah at her desk. Sure, the holiday gave her the day off from work, but it wasn't a day for celebration. To her, there was nothing to really celebrate.
The desk was strewn with trash and useful things alike. Books, pencils, jewelry, computer disks, soda cans, dishes, even an old pack of cigarettes littered the surface. The computer screen poked out between her CD rack and all of the cans. Sighing, Sarah picked up the only fresh drink on the desk and wished like all hell for cigarettes to appear in the pack. It had been a long year. She was ready for it to end. Frustration took over, as she typed, erased, and retyped the same paragraph in her short story. It would never turn out the way it should, it seemed. Turning, Sarah flipped on her entertainment center. Really, it was an old TV with a cable box and dvd/vcr combo on top. Already in the system was 'Labyrinth'. The movie always struck a chord with her. Pressing 'play', she sipped on her coke and silently wished for that cigarette to appear.
"Sire," the dwarf said, standing at the edge of the dais, "she's watching the images again." He had never quite followed her fascination with the mortal movie, but could see it's importance. All of them could. The overlapping realities were very apparent to all Underground inhabitants. Hoggle could see the old reality, where he had met Sarah Williams, just as clearly as he could see the new one, where he had not. In fact, this new reality did not have a Sarah Williams, sister of Tobias Williams, at all.
"Yes, Hoggle," the king said, "she's watching it again. Such a curious creature, this newer Sarah." The dual realities still struck him as strange. When she had rejected his last offer, Destiny had decided to step in. The universe in which THAT Sarah had defeated him had been relegated to the world of imagination in the Aboveground. She had ceased to exist as a real person. She had never been born. To the Underground, the events had been very real, but in a strange way. They were remembered, and had consequences, but they also remembered her NOT being there. Much like double vision, the king made his choices based off of both images.
"I hate to see her like this," Hoggle said quietly, "when her spirit is so much stronger than she realizes." Yet the dwarf didn't turn away from the small mirror he held. He gazed at it sadly.
"Indeed," the kind whispered, "yet I find I cannot turn away. Such a pity, to waste those tears. Such a pity." Hoggle glance up at the king briefly, and then returned his attention to the girl in his mirror. Sarah was absorbed in the film. They always watched her as she watched the images. They always wished she could see the truth.
She sat on her bed, her attention focused on the box of images in front of her. 'Labyrinth' was easily one of her favorite movies. It had David Bowie in it, which alone amused her. The Muppet-like goblins and creatures were a simple joy for her to watch. The heroine was lovely, in that 1980's way, and the images were beautiful. If she were to analyze the movie, as she did sometimes, she found no particular reason why it should be her favorite movie. There was something unfinished about it. The story, and certain images, simply struck her as important.
As the final confrontation began, running about the room with multi-dimensional stairs, Sarah began to notice details she hadn't ever noticed before. The arches had knots of serpents around them. The armor, that black leather armor, had the pendant emblem on it. Overlapping images that could not have been in the movie began laying over her vision. That enlarged pupil of David's became an intricate hazel, warm eye. Dark, but not the same. The faint lines on the actor's face became smooth. Looking at the pale costume at the very end, Sarah wondered at the cape's material. It looked like fluffy fur, but it should have been feathers.
As the movie ended, Sarah slumped against her pillows in a daze. Images floated through her head. A tapestry of millions of unimaginable colors, deft hands weaving and unweaving, tying knots and cutting strings. There were a few shining threads, probably hundreds, but in the immensity, they seemed so few. The stretched back as far as she could see. The deft hands twisted a cord as they wove it, and it began to faintly twinkle. A hazy image of a blonde man in the distance. A sapphire blue coat. She felt a floating sensation, saw a light leaping out of a teenaged girl. The girl faded to nothingness, but the light traveled into a new body, tiny, unformed. All around her were spheres, crystal spheres. Everything faded to black as Sarah's mind screamed out for help, for an explanation.
Sarah sat up, glancing at the clock. Angry red numbers glared back at her, midnight. She stood up, stretching her aching muscles and adjusting her now rumpled clothing, and made her way down the stairs. She nearly tried to move around the kitchen in the dark, until she remembered what day it was. Nobody was home but her. Her step-father had gone to visit family for Christmas. Making her cup of tea, Sarah sat down on one of the stools by the counter. She reflected on the past few years. Why did everything turn out so rotten? Why were her visions coming more often, and with stranger images? Why did they always come after she watched that movie? Why was she never happy here? As she contemplated it, she didn't notice that her hand was no longer stirring the spoon about in the cup. Nor did she notice that the spoon still stirred. Sarah only saw the tiny flakes at the bottom swirling in ever changing patterns. Swirls and eddies mesmerized her, soothing her troubled thoughts.
The phone rang, bringing Sarah from her melancholy thoughts. She sipped her now partially cooled tea as she reached for the receiver. As her hand touched it, the phone stopped ringing. Strange, she thought. Shrugging it off, Sarah sipped more tea as she climbed the stairs to her room. Slipping out of her clothes, Sarah silently prayed for no dreams at all, and slid between her sheets.
The Goblin King sat on his creamy throne, gazing into a crystal. He had been watching the girl for twenty-three years. The rules forbade him from going to her and interfering with her life, until she called on him, or fate dictated otherwise. He could take no actions to aid her, even when he wished he could. Oh, he could go to her in dreams, and whisper comforting words to her, but no direct contact with her in the Aboveground.
"Sarah, please," he said, shifting slightly forward in the seat, "accept those visions, remember, believe them." As she drifted off to sleep, the king prepared to watch over her dreams, to see what memories she would dredge up and relive this night. They were rarely pleasant, and often both king and girl ended the night in tears.
Sarah walked through the party, cup in hand. She couldn't hear her steps on the hard wood floors, not over the loud noises of the party. Random frat boys she knew bumped into her, saying hello, and passing her through the groups. Stopping in a stairwell, a young man with a greedy stare stops her to chat. She smiles, recognizing him. He offers her a pill from his hand, "Caffeine" he called it. She giggles, tossing the pill down with a swig of the stale beer. "Vicadin," he says a moment later. Her eyes widen, and she slowly walks away. The visions of the dream blur. Suddenly, Sarah is in a bathroom, throwing up violently.
"What has she had?" she hears a familiar voice ask.
"Besides the beer? Vicadin, Valium, xenadrine, I think."
"Shit"
The dream blurs a bit more, and Sarah finds herself standing on the street corner. A beautiful, familiar face stands in front of her. He kisses her, despite her illness. Telling her to ride home with their friends and get some sleep, he places her in a car she doesn't recognize. She falls and hits her face and shoulder on the corner of the curb, but eventually makes it into the backseat, to the giggles of drunken friends. Darkness and blurs follow.
Jareth frowns to himself. He knows this memory. This was one of many that he had tried to break the rules to stop. Drawing himself inward, he prepares to watch the rest of the dream, and to whisper comfort at the very end. The only time he can interfere with such a strong memory.
Sarah's eyes begin to open slowly, feeling a heavy weight upon her. Then movement. Someone is inside her, thrusting away. Her mind screams in panic and fear. Heavy hands hold her arms down, she can hear the panting, feel the sweat. The man thrusts awkwardly into her. Blackness and blurs reclaim her. Fuzzy vision, a large meaty hand in a cool bed. Roughly, the hand grabs at her breast. "I want you again," a throaty voice says. Again the weight is on top of her, and someone fumbles to gain entry. Succeeding, the thrusting begins anew, more painful this time with the bruising and dryness. Tears leak from her eyes. Blackness reclaims her.
Sarah stands in front of a mirror, in a small blue carpeted dorm room. It's cold. She's inspecting herself in the mirror. A dark bruise runs from her cheek down to her jaw. Her shoulder and collarbone are bruised a lighter shade of purple. Her eyes are swollen and red, her lips cracked. Bruises line her biceps and wrists, her hipbones and thighs. A tiny smear of blood streaks one thigh. Her dark hair lies in limp strings. The only thing that shines about her image is that turquoise. Her eyes blaze forth in the brilliant shade.
As Jareth felt the memory-dream begin to fade, and her heart begin to break anew, he spoke into her mind. "Do not let it trouble you, that others do not know your worth. It's okay, Sarah. It's okay. I promise you, one day, you'll be happy."
Sarah woke, slowly from the horrid dream, tears making dark tracks down her face. Turning to her pillow, she sobbed herself back to sleep. The king could only watch and weep with her.
Author's note: Okay, guys. PLEASE don't flame me! Just let me know how I'm doing on my first attempt. My BIG question is this: are the line breaks () too confusing as a point of view/time passing change? Let me know if I can make it easier to clarify when time passes or the view switches without blatantly saying it in the text. That kinda kills a literary style, ya know? Thanks for reading!