"Today I saw the strangest thing on the news.."

Sheryl Crow, "Where has all the love gone?"

Chapter 1:

Sarah leaned back in her office chair and groaned in agony as Men At Work's "Safety Dance" came on over the radio for the umpteenth time that day.

"We can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind, cause your friends don't dance, and if they don't dance, well they're no friends of mine.."

"What?" her coworker, and best friend, Chrissy, asked her from over the divider wall.

"Do we have to listen to the radio 24/7?" Sarah asked, bringing up their old argument again. Chrissy said she couldn't work without music to listen to. Sarah didn't normally mind, but Chrissy had had it playing on the same station for over a week now, and Sarah was burnt out on the oldies music.

"Would you rather I listen to the news?" Chrissy asked with a grin, and toggled the knob on the radio. A man's voice interrupted Sarah's protest as Chrissy turned the volume up.

"..convicted of third degree murder. He will serve life in prison without parole. And in recent news, a man was admitted to Saint Mary's hospital yesterday, with no knowledge of his identity. Police are unsure if the man has suffered head trauma, and hospital staff are.."

"NO," Sarah finally made herself heard over the volume as she reached over the low dividing wall between their desks and turned it back down. "It's always so depressing," she added, as a woman's voice added that anyone knowing the identity of the man should please contact staff at Saint Mary's.

"Well, I need the noise. Sorry," she shrugged. Chrissy glanced at the clock on the wall. "You're caught up on your files, why don't you head home early, have a nice weekend? I've still got some more to go."

Sarah looked at her watch. Four thirty. "Yeah, it's close enough. It's not like there is much more I can do tonight." She stood and stretched, and gathered her jacket and purse. "See you on Monday, Chrissy."

"Sure, have a nice weekend," the blonde waved over the divider wall.

"You too."


Sarah shut her apartment door behind her, and dropped her jacket, purse, keys, and mail into the empty armchair closest to the door. She flicked the tv on for background noise, tossed the remote onto the couch, then went into the tiny kitchen to make herself something for dinner.

"And the high today was sixty five degrees, with the evening low dipping down to forty nine.." the tv droned on in the background as she stirred the alfredo sauce and pasta together in her microwaveable dinner. Once it was heated through all the way, she took the tiny cardboard tray and a fork, and walked to the living room, concentrating on blowing on a forkful of pasta to cool it as she walked.

"..And we're bringing you more on the recent story of a man admitted to a local hospital with no knowledge of his identity. Brian is on location with more on the story." Sarah sat down on the couch and took a bite of her pasta, as a new reporter- tall and skinny with glasses- came on the screen.

"Thank you, Steve. I'm here at Saint Mary's hospital, where a startling new case has baffled hospital staff. A man, apparently suffering from amnesia, was admitted yesterday after he was found wandering the streets. He was nearly hit several times by cars before police could restrain him." The image flicked to a video, probably shot with a passerby's cell phone from the shoddy, shaky quality of it, of two police officers attempting to wrestle a man out of the road. Brian, the reporter, came back on screen to add that "initial attempts to identify the man have proven unsuccessful- dental records and fingerprints have both come back with no matches…"

Sarah paused mid-chew. That was odd- sure, only criminals and people like police and security usually had fingerprints on file, but everyone had dental records. Where had this man come from, some third-world country?

"..And hospital staff are equally mystified by his amnesia, as preliminary tests show no damage to the brain, or other signs of trauma." The tv image flicked now to a woman dressed in scrubs, clearly one of the hospital staff.

"We are urging everyone to please, call us if you may be able to help in identifying this man." Sarah recognized the woman's voice from the radio earlier, so this was a pre-recorded snippet. Brian came back on screen to list both the hospital's phone number, as well as the news station's number, as the image flicked finally to the man that had been admitted.

Sarah choked on her pasta as the picture changed.

There, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, and half buried under a mountain of blankets on the hospital bed, was none other than the Goblin King.


Author's Note:

Sorry this chapter was so short, but I had to at least get Sarah into the picture before I waited to update again. I've already got a few chapters ahead written, and waiting to go. Please review!