Hey, sorry it's been such a long time I had trouble figuring out structure and how to move the story along at a faster pace. If something isn't working let me know and I'll fix it. This chapter might be a little slow but the next one is going to hit the ground running. Thank you for reading!
Chapter TextSales Skyrocket For Missing Writer Sarah Williams
Only weeks after vanishing from a party on May 1st and it seems like the nation is scrambling to get a copy of Sarah Williams' Minos Dreamt. The independent publisher that first released the play-turned-novel a few years ago is in the process of reprinting. Saying that they were "surprised and unprepared by the interest." And, that they "are saddened by the unfortunate circumstances and pray that Sarah returns soon."
It's not uncommon for an artist's work to become renowned after a tragedy. However, most would say the reason for this sudden rise in popularity is the urban legend surrounding the possible kidnapping.
The small but passionate original fans of the book formed a theory that the protagonist in Minos Dreamt was actually Sarah. That she lost her mind as young women, believing she went to another world and faced off with a powerful being in order to save her younger brother. They claimed that she disappeared because she believes that once you have been marked by magic you cannot truly leave. If you think that is crazy, some say she is talking about aliens or a demon.
They used Sarah's known eccentricities as evidence. One user said they met Sarah after a play once and remembered her saying that she never makes wishes 'just in case they come true.' A careless wish is the centre of Minos Dreamt. Another claimed that he used to work with Sarah at a café and used to blame accidents on goblins.
The family has yet to comment.
From
…
Underground
Mere moments after waking up in the underground, Sarah was staring into the hungry eyes of an enormous beast. Growing it curled back into a ball of mattered fur, brunches and rotting carcases of small forest creatures.
She ran, legs burning and tears sprouting as the rocks and twigs tore at her feet. Behind her the creature barrelled through, sending trees crashing to the earth and cutting a path straight towards her. The trees thin and the earth are softened with grass as she broke out into a stretching valley. She was sure she had been saved as a man and a woman stood from their elaborate picnic. They were accompanied by a handful of soldiers that immediately took a defensive stance. The man, tall and dark-haired, drew his sword and charged forward with a look of pure elation.
It happened so quickly, one moment she was reaching for salvation and the next she was sprawled across their silk cushions and gold-threaded spread. When she looked at where she had come from the beast was prone, a pained dying sound filled the air as the man pulled his blade out of it's split belly.
"Don't be afraid." The woman says kneeling next to Sarah. She was soft, something about her reminded Sarah of floating in a clear blue lake under a clear blue sky. "You can call me Micah and that is my brother Magnus."
Near the forest line, Magnus swung his blade at the dead beast a few more times – laughing each time he struck flesh. The movement opened up his stained white shirt revealing a bandage around his neck.
"I didn't mean to bother you."
"Not at all, we were about to go on a hunt anyway." He sniffs. "You're bleeding."
As he makes his way towards over he fixes his shirt, not fast enough to cover the specks of blood that had sprouted in a circular shape on his bandaged neck. The metal taste of his blood seers her tongue, and there so no doubt that this is the man who had pulled her from her world. Would he gut her like the beast if she spat it back at him? She swallowed.
"I will let you get back to your day."
"My lady, you are of no imposition to us. We've already collected our hunting trophy."
Can you weather hardship without the grace and friendship of others? Sarah had never heard of such a person. All of her trials and tribulations had been faced with a hand in hers. Mere moments of waking in the underground she found herself in the clutches of an enemy and in company of her first ally.
"Sarah, did you see any more creatures like the ones that chased you?" Micah gave her a hard look. A look Sarah had seen many women give to one another. The silent message of you're in danger and I've got your back.
"Yes."
"Oh! Goodie! Sister, see that our new friend is cared for." With the temperament of a child bolting to a Christmas tree, Magnus assembled his men to hunt the beast in the woods.
Micah's fingers were cold to touch making Sarah jump a little when she inspected the wounds. The cool sensation spread until the throbbing pain in Sarah's feet subsided. The cuts sealed, the only evidence of injury left was dried blood.
"The wound on his neck." They spoke in whispers, afraid that even at that distance Magnus would hear them.
"The bite you gave him won't heal." Micah's smile was that of pride. "Penance for touching what isn't his."
Did that mean she belonged to somebody else? A coiling sensation dug into her stomach at the thought that after all these years the Goblin King might still have his eye on her. Even though her first thought was to blame him.
"Micah." Names have power and the young woman took Sarah's hand soaking in its warmth. "How can I escape? Can you help me get back home?"
Micah's cold blue eyes began to change, amber bleeds from her pupil and the blue on the edges of her iris deepened. Just like the mood ring Sarah had as a child that would flush burgundy in the heat.
"Of cause, I will help you, Sarah." Hands, no longer cold, plucked the leaves and twigs from her hair. "But to go home you'll magic that can turn the world upside-down. Or find a gap you can slide between."
"I won't forget this."
"It was an honour to meet you, champion."
…
Home
In fairy tales, those who are clever and resourceful thrive in the end. In adolescence, she was taught that virtue was rewarded but found that being virtuous meant suffering silently while the world led you by the nose. Kindness has its advantages, as does lying, cheating and stealing. While Sarah is not proud of taking her nurse's phone, she must survive a little longer for her happy ending. Robert and Karen had been instructed not to let her online, no doubt to make sure she isn't overwhelmed by the chaos while she is still adjusting to normal life. Or, prevent her from trying to return to her captor. She had read that somewhere, women with Stockholm syndrome who mistake cages for love.
The nurse's phone isn't even password protected. Do people still trust strangers? Are there people with truly nothing to hide? Not likely. After Googling her own name it seems there isn't much the world doesn't know about her. The grades she got, the people she dated, her brush with depression, why she left the party alone, what she was wearing on the night she disappeared. Halfway through the PSA urging girls not to walk alone, she stumbled to the adjoined bathroom and emptied her stomach. Not surprising, but disappointing, they would take any chance to blame women for the violence of men. Each headline, theory and post that dissected every inch of her life filled her with a manic energy. She feels like screaming, like running until her legs gave out and hiding until the crumbles to pieces. They already thought she was crazy. They already blamed her. The things she told the detectives yesterday make her cringe and pace the room with her IV drip following her. Well, it's more of a hobble, she has been told not to put too much strain on her leg. "I should have lied." She mutters. "I should have kept my mouth shut."
A memory lodges free and flutters across her body like the throes of a fever. The heat on her skin has the same feel as the proximity of his body. At times, when Jareth had wrapped his arms around her, her heart had seized because it had felt too tight.
Was there ever a moment where you could truly be yourself there? Your true self? The hero that storms castles – cuts downs armies to rescue a beloved. The storyteller who twists words and makes kittens out of gruesome monsters. The woman that can drag a king to his knees.
She repeats her words in the memory, the sound of her voice nearly lost with beating drum of her heart. "I was just doing that I had to."
Are you afraid to answer me?
"No, I'm disappointed because you don't see me. You see destiny – kings and queens – nothing else."
You are so much more here. You thrive… I see a freedom in you that is breathtaking.
"You may not understand, but every time I stepped out on stage – every time I saw people laugh and cry at my words I felt alive. I may not know myself well, but doing what I love is being true to myself. No matter how difficult."
Exhaling, the heat leaves her skin and sweat creates a cold mask on her face. The memory and the ghost of his touch fades and she is alone. Cupping water from the tap she splashes her face and spits out the taste of vomit. 'No matter how difficult.'
…
It had taken Harrington an hour, plus the car ride to the hospital, to convince Clare not to interrogate Sarah. Even as they sit with her, he can see Clare is dying to rip into her. He knows exactly what she is thinking. That Sarah, demure, wounded, squeezing a pillow with her good arm and tears in her eyes, was playing the ideal victim. Ever the cynic.
"Milk?" Harrington stirs two sugars into the dark tea and, when Sarah shakes her head, he places it on her tray.
"Thank you. I'm ever so sorry about yesterday. Everything just happened so fast." In the light of day the green in the eye was like the mossy floor of an ancient forest. Dewy with tears she looked nothing like women who lent out of a hospital window to smoke.
"It takes time, Sarah." As he sat he glances at the untouched tea. Is she going to drink it?
"Are you more clearheaded today?" Clare places pen to paper.
Sarah's smile is weak as she takes a moment to observe Clare. "Did you bring it?"
The journal is a hardback with frayed corners and dark stains. Not allowed to handle sharp objects Sarah instructs Clare to split the back cover with a pocketknife.
Inspecting the piece of paper hidden inside Clare's lips turn a hard line. "It's gibberish."
With gloved hands, Harrington turns the page this way and that. It's the same coded writing as the rest of the book. The writing is curvier with long elegant loops.
"Let me see." Without warning, Sarah snatches the piece of paper. With an inquisitive look, she runs her fingers over the lettering and gives the page three quick flicks.
"Sarah," Harrington gives Clare a warning glance to keep her from blowing her fuse, "let us handle the evidence."
"Oh, I am so sorry." The page slips from her fingers and flutters to the ground. For a second it looks like the ink was moving, shifting into something else. A trick of the eye, surely. "Sorry, gosh. I'm surprised detectives, I really didn't think my handwriting was that bad."
When Harrington picks up the note he understands what the long loops and curls mean. "It's an address. Clare!"
The chair nearly falls over as she leaps to his side to see for herself. "I guess at a second glance I can read it too."
That's not it. It was changed. When could she have swapped the paper?
"I'm sure that is enough to close this ugly affair." The girl looks exhausted, dark bags and the colour drained from her.
"Let's go, boy scout." Clare, ever the hungry wolf when she catches a scent.
"Wait!" Harrington takes Clare's sleeve to stop her bolting out the door. "Shouldn't we… question the witness before we run off?"
"I'm so sorry, my memory is still so hazy." Hands cover Sarah's face like it was her biggest regret she cannot help them.
"It's okay." Clare expression softens and it feels like a betrayal. Just when he was starting to believe her theory that Sarah is a fraud. "We'll take it from here."
His protest is cut short when Clare grabs a fist full of his suit and yanks him out of his chair. Before the door is shut behind him he sees Sarah sip her tea with a smile on her face.
"What's with you?" He says trying to fix his suit and keep up with his partner in the corridor.
"We've finally got him." Clare waves the address. "I've had my eye on this piece of shit and today we are going to put him behind bars."
…
Toby clutches Lancelot, the bear that had once been her favourite, to his chest. Last time she had visited home he had declared he was too old for toys. In her absence, one of the bear's eyes had disappeared and there is a new hole in its neck.
"There are times, when danger looms, where women can become sisters without exchanging a word. Even if they never see each other again, that never changes." The walls of her childhood bedroom are the same colour. Why did it feel so strange? The walls had been bare since she pulled down her posters before going to college. That wasn't it.
"Was she pretty?" Toby bounces at the end of her bed.
"Micah was beautiful, like an opal." Sarah paces her room counting the steps from her bed to the window. The window to the doorway. Her dad had removed the door. In this tentative time there needs to be surveillance, at least that is what the doctor told them.
"And then?"
"And then…" had the floor always creaked near her wardrobe? "And then. The beautiful Lady Micah had given me her most prized mare, silky black and strong. In all my dreams of knights, kings and magic I had never ridden a horse in my life. Leather stuck to my legs and the reigns were loose between my fingers. All I could do was cling to the saddle for what felt like an age. I had to trust the horse knew where she was going. By the time she slowed to drink at a stream, I was tired, hungry sore and cold. I nearly fell climbing down onto the pebbled shore.
As I tried to fill the emptiness in my stomach with cool clear water I heard voices carry from up the stream. Art, theatre… nourishment for the soul, Toby. Actors practising their lines. I tried to lead the horse upstream but she would come with me. She seemed to want to take me somewhere else. I couldn't resist the call of an artist. So, we parted ways. Oh, Toby."
Sarah knelt before him forgetting to count the steps. "You are never alone if you can find a community. You just have to reach out."
"Did they help you?" Toby clutches Lancelot tighter.
"You know how hard it is to say no to me." Sarah brushes Toby's golden hair off his forehead. "And I know how to make an impression in an audition. Until I found my way back to you I travelled and did what I did best: perform."
He picks at the bear's remaining eye and looks at Sarah for reassurance. "Is that all?"
"Truly." Sarah lies. "It was scary, but I was fine."
"And the Goblin King?"
The sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs made Sarah raise a finger to her lips.
"Can I do anything for you, honey?" Robert hovers outside her room like there was a force field in place. He had aged in the time she had gone, heavy crows feet and a permanent line across his forehead.
"Yeah." She runs her fingers through her long dark hair. "I'd like a haircut."
"Of cause, honey." Robert looks at his feet. "Linda-your mother just called and... she's flying down from New York."
"Great." Sarah sighs and sits on the floor. "Just great."