Author's Note: Many people have been inspired by the amazing Pika-la-Cynique, and I'm just the latest on the bandwagon. A link to the piece in question (Here's the day…) can be found on my profile. Sarah Williams is © Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, and whoever else Labyrinth characters belong to.
"Mom? Mooooom…"
Lisa Rutherford drummed her fingers impatiently on the banister. Usually it was her mother calling up the stairs like this; a tendency to sleep late was one of the teenager's greatest faults, and Sarah had always been an early riser. Now, however, something was wrong.
For a woman who wakes up at 6:30, I should have heard something out of her by noon. But here it was nearly 1:00, and not a peep from her mother's bedroom. Sighing, Lisa ran up the stairs, her Doc Martens thudding fit to wake the dead.
She reached the landing outside the master bedroom. Still nothing; exasperation dissolved and the seeds of worry grew to choking vines. A tentative knock on the door produced no results. Nor did heavy, insistent pounding or cries of "Mom, are you in there?!" Finally, with a deep breath, she grasped the knob and pushed.
The door swung open with no resistance. Lisa quickly scanned the room; no blood soaked the curtains or carpet and no brutal struggle was evident. Neither, though, was Sarah Rutherford.
In fact, the room looked quite unused; any outsider would have thought it a guest bedroom. The quilt was neatly folded, ornamental pillows in place and fluffed, nightstand devoid of the latest Mercedes Lackey novel. An inspection of the closet revealed Sarah's side to be empty, with the hangers stacked at one end of the shoe rack.
Sarah's office, connected by means of a bathroom, proved equally unoccupied. It had never been this tidy when the disorganized illustrator used it; pens and pencils stood at attention in their holder and books were arranged spines-out in alphabetical order. The whole setup was too normal, too innocuous. Clearly designed to prevent anyone from looking twice.
Lisa raced for the door. Call the police, call the- what's that? An odd reflection in the mirror (formerly used for capturing difficult hand poses) caught her eye. She turned- and felt the breath leave her lungs as if she'd been punched.
A glowing crystal sphere hovered silently above her mother's desk.
She wasn't really aware that her knees had given way until her fingers dug into the carpet. He came for her. This was the culmination of all the stories Lisa had heard as a child, and then dismissed as an adolescent. But fairytales weren't supposed to come true…
Here's the day I hoped would never come.
There was a letter on the desk beneath a glittering, white feather, but Lisa scarcely glanced at it. "…love you…has to be…tell your father and stepmother…" The only part she gave any thought to was one line:
"I want so much to bring you with us, but Jareth says you must come of your own free will. So I guess this is goodbye; pass my good wishes on to Dad."
"Oh, hell no," Lisa muttered under her breath. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "I wish the goblins would come and take me away right now."