Author's Note: Can anyone guess the name of the poem Sarah quoted in the first chapter? 50 points to the first person who does.
Disclaimer: Do I own anything from Labyrinth? Hmm, let me check. Nope, still borrowing them from Henson and crew.
"Ms. Williams may I see you in my office?" the voice of Sarah's editor buzzed over her intercom. She walked around the tangle of cubicles to the office in the back, smiling at the secretary before going into Mr. Taft's office.
"What's up, John?" she asked.
"I've got an assignment for you - one I think you'll enjoy." He told her.
"Oh?" she said, her interest piqued.
"Have you heard about what's going on over in Greenfield?"
Greenfield was the town just outside of their own. Mostly it was a home for the wealthy who preferred the New England elegance of Connecticut over the neon lights and UV rays of Florida. There was always something "going on" in Greenfield, usually another park being created for the local yuppies to walk their dogs in, or a statue being christened. A fluff assignment, but it promised a weekend at a posh bed and breakfast.
"What is it this time? Someone make another donation to the school?"
"No, nothing like that. Some eccentric's been creating a giant hedge maze. Opens this weekend and I'm sending you to cover it. In fact, you can bring a date if you want. The creator's holding a ball or some such nonsense to celebrate, and we've been sent an invitation for our reporter. Namely you."
"You want me to write a story on a hedge maze?" she asked somewhat incredulously.
"You should see this thing, Sarah. It covers five acres, and from the rumors I've heard, it's a work of genius. What I really want is an interview with the creator, a Mr. King. Real piece of work, this guy, but he's agreed to talk to you."
"Alright, when do I leave?"
"Tomorrow morning. You'll have the whole weekend with him. Actually, it seems he's something of a fan. Asked for you by name, in fact. He said he's read some of your articles and like what he saw. Oh and Sarah," he called as she was leaving, "don't call this thing a maze around him. He got pretty upset when I did, said it was 'a Labyrinth'."
He couldn't see the shock register in Sarah's face for the briefest of moments. Catching her breath, she asked as calmly as possible, "What did you say his name was again?"
"King. Jared G. King. I don't know what the G. stands for. I'm guessing Geoffrey."
The tension in Sarah's shoulders relaxed for a second. "Why do you say that?" she asked, smiling at her previous nervousness.
"Well his accent was British. Geoffrey just sounds like an appropriately British name to me."
But Sarah wasn't listening anymore. She had run to the restroom to throw cold water on her face.
"Just a coincidence." she told her reflection, but she knew better than that. She rolled her eyes at John's suggestion of "Geoffrey". Se knew what the G stood for: Goblin.
Disclaimer: Do I own anything from Labyrinth? Hmm, let me check. Nope, still borrowing them from Henson and crew.
"Ms. Williams may I see you in my office?" the voice of Sarah's editor buzzed over her intercom. She walked around the tangle of cubicles to the office in the back, smiling at the secretary before going into Mr. Taft's office.
"What's up, John?" she asked.
"I've got an assignment for you - one I think you'll enjoy." He told her.
"Oh?" she said, her interest piqued.
"Have you heard about what's going on over in Greenfield?"
Greenfield was the town just outside of their own. Mostly it was a home for the wealthy who preferred the New England elegance of Connecticut over the neon lights and UV rays of Florida. There was always something "going on" in Greenfield, usually another park being created for the local yuppies to walk their dogs in, or a statue being christened. A fluff assignment, but it promised a weekend at a posh bed and breakfast.
"What is it this time? Someone make another donation to the school?"
"No, nothing like that. Some eccentric's been creating a giant hedge maze. Opens this weekend and I'm sending you to cover it. In fact, you can bring a date if you want. The creator's holding a ball or some such nonsense to celebrate, and we've been sent an invitation for our reporter. Namely you."
"You want me to write a story on a hedge maze?" she asked somewhat incredulously.
"You should see this thing, Sarah. It covers five acres, and from the rumors I've heard, it's a work of genius. What I really want is an interview with the creator, a Mr. King. Real piece of work, this guy, but he's agreed to talk to you."
"Alright, when do I leave?"
"Tomorrow morning. You'll have the whole weekend with him. Actually, it seems he's something of a fan. Asked for you by name, in fact. He said he's read some of your articles and like what he saw. Oh and Sarah," he called as she was leaving, "don't call this thing a maze around him. He got pretty upset when I did, said it was 'a Labyrinth'."
He couldn't see the shock register in Sarah's face for the briefest of moments. Catching her breath, she asked as calmly as possible, "What did you say his name was again?"
"King. Jared G. King. I don't know what the G. stands for. I'm guessing Geoffrey."
The tension in Sarah's shoulders relaxed for a second. "Why do you say that?" she asked, smiling at her previous nervousness.
"Well his accent was British. Geoffrey just sounds like an appropriately British name to me."
But Sarah wasn't listening anymore. She had run to the restroom to throw cold water on her face.
"Just a coincidence." she told her reflection, but she knew better than that. She rolled her eyes at John's suggestion of "Geoffrey". Se knew what the G stood for: Goblin.