With two chapter updates (of different stories) in one week, I'm on a roll. I'm just finally glad to have finished this chapter; I had a bout of writer's block for the longest time.

Any feedback is welcomed. Thanks!


Toby had visited Sarah again in the hospital today. Her conditions seemed to stabilize but even so, her body stayed stagnant and unresponsive. Doctors reviewed the results of their specialized tests of Sarah's brain activity; all findings pointed to the mimicry of dreaming at an overactive rate while Sarah remained in her coma.

Expert doctors and psychologists had been called to give their professional opinion on the anomaly of the activity, hopeful that someone might have an answer.

They were all baffled.

The pristine doctors with their passive eyes and unremarkable bedside manner told the Williams family that dreaming and being in a coma were two very different processes. With an elementary clarification that veered on apathy, the main doctor explained that a coma was a non-normal set of brain functions that were not components of normal sleep. So while Sarah's brain was experiencing brain waves in a sleep pattern, somehow her body reserved the comatose symptoms.

The conversation's intent was somewhat helpful but vague with little hope of a substantial solution.

Once the doctor had finished his obligatory speech of Sarah's technical condition, Robert Williams reiterated in Leman's terms. "So there's nothing you can do for her."

The insipid doctor's face fell for a brief moment, showing a true sign of disquiet concern for the first time since Sarah had arrived to the hospital. "I'm afraid so. All we can do now is continuing administering fluids and hope that she wakes."

The initial pang of frustration convinced Toby to swindle his step-sister's apartment keys at the hospital, desperate to find any clues to her illness.

Yet as he entered the acute blackness of the stoic apartment, he began to rethink the idea while fumbling in the dark for a switch that eluded him. After more than one failed attempt, he found the knob and flipped it, casted a dim light across the room. He immediately took notice that Sarah was a pristine housekeeper.

Her apartment was plain but cozy with lush carpet and tall windows. The small, framed pictures scattered about were the only indication of any family.

He technically hadn't invaded Sarah's privacy since he was ten. Growing up, adventures had always resided in Sarah's room with fantasy books, toys, and game boards that looked complex. Curious, he constantly snooped around and often earned a good scolding from his older sibling after she found him harboring scattered story notes and toys like a treasure trove.

The doorknob squeaked an intrusive warning as Toby entered the most forbidden and personal of spaces: the bedroom. Again, this room carried the same theme of neatness from the living area.

Sarah had never been quite so tidy while they were growing up; however, with the exception of a bookshelf, everything now had a proper place and looked untouched, almost as if on display for some unknown audience.

The dark mahogany bookshelf tucked away in the corner did seem a bit cluttered in comparison. A few items lay strewn about, but nothing significant that could provide a lead for Sarah's current predicament.

1Until Toby spotted a lone box perched on the top of Sarah's bookshelf.

It was a plain shoe box, nothing fancy or unusual about it. The box immediately peaked Toby's interest. The white shoebox stood isolated in its own special spot above all the leaning novels and open manuscripts, and it wasn't the type of item one would keep on a bookshelf.

The unusual item was jarring against the background of a modern décor, if not a bit suspect since Sarah seldom kept nostalgic items nowadays. Proof of her sentiments lied around in the house in the handful of pictures and a scrapbook she had created years ago but nothing more.

An inexplicable notion pressed at the young man to attain and open the box.

With a swiftness that surprised him, Toby snagged a small vanity stool and balanced with precarious ease to retrieve the small box. The item safely in hand, the auburn headed man scanned the lid for markings or a label.

There was nothing except the bland, white box that glistened in the low lighting.

The temptation to reveal whatever lied inside was irresistible yet unsettling. The box was not his; he had no right to snoop in someone else's private things.

But, it wasn't like he hadn't already encroached on Sarah's secrecy. He was loitering in her bedroom for goodness sake.

Then again, he was looking to find answers for Sarah. At least, that was his intent.

He talked himself into it; rationalizing Sarah's comatose state was a legitimate excuse.

Toby opened the box with deft hands, his eager green eyes waiting.

The dramatic moment was eclipsed by the unremarkable contents. The box was overflowing with tiny character figurines, loose marbles, costume jewelry far past its prime, and a friendly face that Toby hadn't seen in years.

"Hello Lancelot." He greeted the bear as he lifted the grungy, stuffed animal out of the box.

As Toby grasped the bear's body, a small item tucked beneath Lancelot's arm fell to the floor. The young man's thick eyebrows knitted in confusion. He hunched over to search for the item.

A red, leather bound book stared back at him with dull awareness. Though the edges had been worn, the gold lettering remained untarnished, still vivid as it had been years ago.

The Labyrinth.

Toby fingered the book with care. He thought Sarah had gotten rid of the novel long ago. She had often read him the story and had added her own details to the story, as if she had personal knowledge of events in the book.

Toby believed her with the unfaltering trust as only a child could invest in such a fantasy. His desperation to validate all her findings had gnawed at him and drove him to seek out the source of her wicked tales of creatures in a maze, a castle filled with goblins and a powerful Goblin King. The unwavering conviction in her eyes and the gentle sincerity of her voice gave the indication that maybe; just maybe, Sarah had experienced the adventure herself.

Course, when relaying the account of the heroic tale, Sarah tended to deter the fantasy when she would halt mid-sentence with a confused wrinkle of her brow, as if trying to recall a forgotten portion of the story.

But it was so enthralling that Toby was convinced it was real, and he was determined to prove it. So one evening, Toby snuck into Sarah's bedroom for the last time. He managed to nab the book from her boudoir and tip-toe his way back to his room with little incident. With discreet enthusiasm, the young, curly haired Williams boy flipped to the tenth page and repeated the lines from memory.

He took a deep breath, brimming with nervous energy. "I wish the goblins would come and take me away, right…"

"Toby! Stop!" Sarah intervened with feverish reprimand.

A recent college graduate at the time, she had come home for a surprise visit. Sarah had knocked at Toby's door after seeing his small form sneak around the hallway. Unsure if he was playing a game, the older sibling went to remind him that his bedtime had passed. Through the door, she heard the same words her younger self had once uttered, and with quick reflexes, she reacted.

She took the book away and scolded him for his mischief. In her shaken state, she told the young boy that he could never call upon the goblins. Ever. If he did, he would be turned into a nasty, ugly creature and be subjected to terrible things at the hand of the wicked Goblin King.

And Sarah would be powerless to save him.

Frightened by the imagery, the boy didn't bother to dabble in his step-sister's fantasy toys without supervision. And he never again set eyes on the book until now.

An older, wiser Toby traced the soft cover of the book with delicate thought. It was probably the fondest memory he shared with Sarah as siblings, regardless of age difference.

He wished she was here to reminisce with him; though, she was bound to be skeptical of the ordeal.

As the years drew on, Sarah seemed to rebuff the tale altogether, insisting it was a childish dream. She once claimed that the story was a product of her deluded reality and extraordinary imagination.

Toby still wasn't sure if he believed her or not.

His line of sight drifted over the room with languid ease. Nothing else held remote interest as far as Sarah's personal life, save for the few play programs on the bookshelf.

The young man cradled Lancelot back in the box and put it back where it belonged. However, he managed to slip the fantasy book into his jacket, planning to read it to Sarah at the hospital. It was a long shot, but he was hopeful that her mind would recognize the passages and wake her.

Much like the piece of advice bestowed to the novel's young heroine by a dwarf, Toby didn't plan to take anything for granted.


Hoggle's nerves were jumbled, making him edgy and paranoid. Shuffling his feet with impatience, he waited with growing trepidation in the grand hall for the king.

He toyed with his hands, wringing and twisting them every which way until his pulse was throbbing with a dull ache.

"My word, is something ailing you, Sir Hoggle? You look quite pale." The small, avid fox terrier questioned with light unease, his ancient armor clanking as he poked Hoggle with his staff.

The dwarf was so distressed with his own nerves that he hardly noticed Didymus' physical query. "Not quite. I'm just...fidgety." It wasn't quite the right way to describe Hoggle's troubled state. The more appropriate term would be mortally petrified.

Course, the state of disarray of the entire castle did nothing to counteract the matter. Filthy goblins with their uncouth manners and chickens running about were nothing short of chaotic. In fact, much of the castle's lush greenery had fallen into a barren wasteland while sections of the once exuberant Labyrinth had been overrun with desolation.

The Underground, overall, had progressively begun to decay since the children of the Aboveground ceased to believe in magic. Scarcely was a child ever called upon to be taken by Goblins and even more rarely did the Goblin King ever journey to the Aboveground to coax an opponent to play his games.

The Labyrinth had never reclaimed its full function after the Goblin King had been defeated by a younger Sarah Williams, a feat that hadn't gone unnoticed by the Elders of the Underground Council.

Hoggle sorely managed to swallow past the dryness of his throat. Who was to say the Goblin King hadn't sent Sarah to the Dreamscape as punishment? After all, it was the realm of nightmares as well as dreams.

For that matter, even if Sarah had not been condemned to the Dreamscape by the King's own volition, why would he want to help the opponent who beat him?

"But yer majesty, the Council is requestin an audience with you immediately. They're saying it's urgent cause it regards the future of the Labyrinth." A tiny goblin, roughly the size of a stickweed bundle, chattered as he hobbled beside the King's boots.

The unfortunate goblin had been stuck with keeping the King's schedule, including royal duties. There was little to no reward for the thankless job, and no creature in the Labyrinth would take it willingly.

The goblin must have done something pretty nasty to earn the title.

"Fine, I'll tend to the matter myself, but I will do so at my own convenience. Now do not bother me again with the nuisance." Jareth was in one of his hostile moods again, a frequent occasion that happened more often than not.

Though the King was exasperated by his chief duties, the squat man of no extraordinary means did not escape his notice. "What is it now, Higgle?"

"It's Hoggle and there's a problem in the Dreamscape." Jareth still undermined the rumpled dwarf; Hoggle still refuted his insults by correcting him. It was an unnatural and defective relationship, but it worked.

"And why would there be a problem in the Dreamscape? That's why I have you." His flippant act was par as usual, exasperated by duties in which he had to mediate.

"Well, yes. But it's different this time. Someone's passed through the barriers and entered the Dreamscape in full conscious state." Hoggle stayed right on his heels, trying to relay any and all details.

"You mean this person is actually aware they're not in their world anymore?" His curiosity was peaked.

Hoggle's voice trailed off with blubbering incoherence, his version of explanation. "Yes! I don't know how it happened but somehow Sarah…"

"What…did you just say?" He turned on his foot with lightning speed while Hoggle ran into his leg. Rubbing his nose, Hoggle quickly regretted his words when Jareth began advancing with a dangerous air, marking each step with righteous dominance.

Hoggle stumbled over his large feet trying to back away from the irate noble. Back tracking his words wasn't the most ideal plan since Jareth already suspected something, but Hoggle did his damndest not to anger the King more. Else, the bog might have a new tenant.

The dwarf was losing ground fast and needed to redirect Jareth's attention to the actual issue. "I…uh, I mean…It's just a girl and…uh, I's thought you might be able to…"

"Indulge me. Tell me her name again." Jareth's tone held an edge of coyness, daring Hoggle to bold face lied to him if he had the nerve.

The small man, fearful and inferior, bowed his head to avoid meeting the King's piercing eyes. "Err, Sarah."

A scowl contorted the Goblin King's mouth. "I thought as much."

"Maybe it's another girl name's Sarah? My eyes have played tricks on me, ya know." The deep wrinkles in his face lifted with nervous humor, shaking with mechanic laughter.

The Goblin King, poised and beautiful, stared down the dwarf with an ill, shadowed intent. "Doubtful."

"Well…uh, are you…or we going to do anything about it?" What pride he had left forebode him to beg, but he was willing to compromise for Sarah.

"You can do whatever you like. I have given you enough power to transport in and out of the Dreamscape at will. I, on the other hand, have far too many important matters to deal with." Just like that, Jareth was back to his condescending self, displaying a healthy lack of empathy.

"But I's can't transport her out of the Dreamscape without her body, and you know it!" For the briefest moment, Hoggle forgot his place and his indignation overwhelmed him.

"Are you questioning my authority?" The reply was faint, but the gilded light flickering off the crystal in the King's hand promised an instantaneous retaliation.

The strength of magic churning in the air was undeniable. The older dwarf shuttered at the idea. "Uh…No, yer majesty."

"Then the issue is settled." There was no more to discuss; the King had made up his mind. As for other matters, he called his undignified royal assistant. "Grendel, tell the Council that I will grant their request and be at court by nightfall."

Jareth might have been arrogant, but he certainly was no fool.

A being would have to possess some fraction of magic in order to pass the Dreamscape's barrier in spirit. No one had been able to achieve such a feat from the Aboveground.

Even if possible, a mythical with immense power would have to provide safe passage or a mortal would be stuck between the hazy limbo of dreaming and death.

Jareth would report to the Council on the current state of the Labyrinth as required of his duty; however, the topic of a mortal trapped in the Dreamscape was sure to stir up debate. Most importantly, the elders could provide a resolution or if anything, clarification.

Either way, he had to act fast. If the Dreamscape mirrored the Labyrinth in magic and mentality, Sarah would not survive.


The young woman moved with swift feet as the dry leaves crunched beneath her.

She chased the crystal ball as it kept moving, undaunted by the large, misshapen branches in its path.

The iridescent ball had been leading the way since it conjured the entrance gates to open. Though a foolish notion, Sarah Williams had followed it with blind trust.

Since then, the magical bugger had been wandering aimlessly down the narrow passageway without a sign of a door or corner in sight.

With jarring abruptness, the crystal stopped in the middle of the stone walkway. Sarah caught herself in time before she slipped on the small object.

All the running and jumping over branches had lead her to…nothing. She was blocked in by wall to wall stone and overgrowth, the same thing that had greeted her when she had entered the maze.

She observed her surroundings with scrutiny. "This is it?"

You take too many things for granted.

A sudden quake shook the entirety of the passageway. Sarah was knocked off her feet, her dark hair tangling in her face as she hit the ground.

A section of the wall began to rattle with violent force, splitting in two as the great earthquake disrupted its foundation. Loose bricks tumbled and crackled as the two pieces of the wall moved aside to reveal a deeper corridor.

Inside, a chalk white gate with encircled ivy leaves stretched across the length of the wall.

Dusting herself off, Sarah lifted up off the ground and moved forward. An unknown instinct compelled her to know what lay beyond the gate, driving her to inspect its countenance.

The gate had been chiseled from something strong, light and not quite hallow. Absentminded, Sarah allowed her hand to drift over the edges of the front bars.

A shrill hissing noise caused the ivy vines to constrict with painful endeavor and push the gate open on its rickety hinges.

Shocked, a scream lodged in Sarah's throat before she could release it, making her sputter as she choked. The gate opened half way, but the vines were unyielding, still holding tight as if expecting something.

An obscure part of the young woman's vision behind her noticed a fevered jolt. The sound of stone and concrete grating against each other in a taxing manner was unnerving.

Sarah turned to witness the pieces of broken wall close in behind her.

"Wait!" Her cry went unanswered as the pieces adhered to each other, showing no signs of breakage.

The maze had trapped her, giving her no alternative but through the white gate.

Cautious, Sarah's mind kept her alert with all acute angles of perspective as she moved forward, wary as not to touch any portion of the alabaster opening.

In a remote corner past the entry, a sign materialized as both a warning and ominous greeting to those who would trespass. Situated high above the foggy ground, the sign made of rotting wood had scrawled letters, near illegible. Carved into the wood's surface, the script read

Welcome to the Boneyard.