Disclaimer:
Standard disclaimers apply.
The Labyrinth is the property of Jim Henson and its script writers, including but not limited to Dennis Lee, Terry Jones, Elaine May, and A.C.H. Smith. Characters and concept are used without permission and not for profit.
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Chapter 9
A Story of a Mother (I)
Once upon a time, a woman made a wish.
She was beautiful and passionate and ambitious, and men flocked around her in hopes of a kindly smile from her. It seemed as if the world was hers for the taking, should she so choose. And when a rich and handsome man asked her to marry him, she said yes.
For a time, they were happy. Her husband showered her with rich gifts, and they were much admired as the perfect couple. When she bore a beautiful little girl, as pretty as any princess in a fairy tale with ebony black hair, white skin, and red lips, her world seemed absolutely perfect. And they were happy. She would play with her daughter, fussing over the child's perfect fingers and perfect toes and combing out her glossy black curls. In the evening, her husband would come home and kiss his beautiful wife and daughter, and when she tucked the child to bed, she would read her a story about fairies and goblins. The woman thought she couldn't be happier
Unfortunately, her words were truer than she realized. Her ambitious heart refused to be satisfied, even with a husband who loved her and a lovely daughter. It was not enough to be loved and needed only by two people. She wanted to be admired by everyone. She desired fame and glory.
One day, frustrated by the confines of her house and the needs of her daughter, the woman snapped. When her daughter asked her for the story about goblins, she slapped the child. But it was not enough.
"I hate you!" she cried. "If not for you, I would be famous! I would have glory! I would be living my dreams! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! To hell with your stupid goblins, always your stupid goblins. I wish I'd never had you. In fact, I wish the goblins would come and take you away right now!"
But the child did not cry, staring back at her mother with wide green eyes. Her composure incensed her mother further. She gave the child a shove. The world slowed down as she watched the child fall backwards. They had been standing atop the stairs. The child was falling...falling...falling.... Her heart stopped to see the broken body of her child lying on the bottom of the stairs. Her beautiful daughter, broken. Her beautiful daughter, taken away from her.
With a sob, she rushed down to where the broken child lay and cradled her in her arms. "Oh, my poor child, I did not mean it," she sobbed. "Come back, my little girl. Come back."
"It's too late," said the Goblin King, an impossibly powerful figure clad in raiments of the darkest night. His wild hair glittered with starlight, and his breath was as cold as the winter wind. "Your daughter is mine now."
The woman clutched the child to her. "But I didn't mean it," she protested. "I didn't mean for this to happen."
Yet he shook his head. "What's said is said," he said. "Words cannot be taken back, and neither can wishes. However, perhaps we can make a bargain."
The woman grew pale. "What sort of bargain?"
"Your daughter is worth nothing to me at her present age," the Goblin King continued. He knelt down beside the woman and the child. "She is too old to become one of us, and yet too young to be of any interest. Perhaps I will let you keep her, until she old enough. So I let you keep her for now. I will give you ten years time, ten years to let her grow up. Ten years for you to know her. Ten years before I come and claim her."
"She is just a child now!" the mother cried. "Ten years is too short a time for her. She will be barely more than child after ten years."
The Goblin King leaned closer. "I cannot offer more," he said. "But it is still generous. Accept my offer, or else I take your daughter tonight. But I will give you something in return for your daughter. I know your dreams. I will offer you your dreams."
There was nothing but kindness in his pale blue eyes, so close to her own. One eye, its pupil dilated larger, was almost all black, surrounded by a ring of blue. In it, she could see the stars and moon. She saw herself reflected. She saw her daughter.
"Don't you want to keep your daughter?" he asked again.
The woman looked at the pale face of her daughter and closed her eyes. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I do."
Sarah opened her eyes.
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Author's Note: MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.