Disclaimer: not mine, copyright Labyrinth Enterprises (at least, that's what it says on my copy Of the movie). Thank you Mr. Jim Henson way up high for creating such loveliness.
If you like Jareth, this tale will upset you.
The Pied Piper
Two
"Aw Merlin!"
Merlin the Second meowed indignantly while Sarah pushed the animal from her files. The Blue Tip Siamese Tom-cat jumped from the table and went over to the other three of his kind, lounging on the white couch, that shared the apartment with their two humans. Cleopatra, his mum, threw a foul look in the general direction of the she-human and started to scrub her son with her tongue the moment he slumped next to her. He too turned his head towards the she-human with baleful eyes. Sheherazade and Leila, his sisters, opened their sleepy eyes momentarily, then dozed off again.
Laughter came from the kitchen as Peter entered the living room, balancing munchies two glasses of red wine and a single white rose in a vase on a tray.
"Cats will be cats."
"Which is why I like dogs better."
"For whom we both do not have the time..."
"And cats are fairly easily to keep. I know, I know." Finished Sarah the old argument with a smile. She pushed back her glasses and brushed the hairs from her papers.
"I just wish they weren't shedding their fur all the time. Or at least not all over my papers!"
Peter flopped down next to the cats.
"Then don't leave them were they can lie on top. Now leave those for a minute, will ye? Have a brake. Smell the rose."
Sarah turned and smiled at her tall husband. Tall and slender, dark brown hair and a wicked grin on his face. She went over to him and curled herself into his lap. They kissed, gently, toasted to nothing in particular and just sat there, staring happily into the flames of their fireplace for a while.
The apartment was a lot smaller than they could afford, modestly yet cosily furnished. He was a history teacher at a private school for rather snobbish youngsters, she a psychiatrist with a hobby for the bizarre and difficult. Her agenda was full, filled with the abused, the sad, the lonely and the heartbroken. The searchers for self.
Yet she always found time to 'give something back' as she called it, taking a few pro deo cases or helping out the police. Twice she had aided them as a profiler- not an experience she had enjoyed particularly.
There were no children in this marriage. Sarah had wanted none and Peter had complied. He never had asked her why. She never asked him why.
They had cats. She had named the tom.
Sarah sighed.
"That hard a case?" Peter asked her with a worried little frown.
"Yeah." She shrugged.
"You know, you should not get so absorbed in this kind of work- after all, it pays you very little."
"And it keeps me away from you." she teased in sing-song.
Peter positively leered at her, pulled her towards him, nuzzled her neck and shoulder with is mouth and gently laid his hand on her breast.
"Well there are always better thing to do with our time- we see each other little enough as is. And the I have homework to correct or a meeting to prepare and you -always- have your cases..."
"Well, this one is weird." Sarah placed down her glass, stood, pushed back her glasses, again, and paced the room.
"You see, they found him, up north, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by wild animals, deer, rabbits, lots of birds, and apparently they were all listening to hear him play. On a flute. And he never said anything. He never talked. They know he can talk because he speaks in his sleep, but he never said anything. Whatever they asked of him, whatever they did to him, he stayed completely passive. No reaction, what-so-ever!"
"So- He's a nut, a hermit living in some woods, with his animals. Big deal. Why is he in state prison for that."
"In the cabin where they found him, they discovered he had lived on roots and nuts and berries and not much more. At first they just wanted to help him, you know. The locals had sent a social worker to him to check up on him. You know how they found out about him? A year ago, a teenaged girl was being raped by two men, her boyfriend beaten into unconsciousness. And suddenly, there he was, coming from the trees like fury kicking and screaming an beating those guys away. He saved those two teens."
"Your babbling."
"They said, he was dressed like a scarecrow on bare feet. With long hair and no beard. So at first they thought he was just a kid."
"Strong kid."
"Then their fathers looked for him to thank him. He fled. Shy. Afraid. In the end, they lured him out of his lair with milk and cookies. Can you imagine that? And when he finally trusted them enough to accept the clothes and shoes they offered him, he just sat down on the forest floor, and cried. Every time after that when they showed him only the smallest kindness, he was moved to tears. They liked him in that village."
"So why has he been incarcerated?"
"Over the last fourteen years, no less then twenty-three children in the age of zero to five have disappeared in that area, and everybody has been clueless as to their whereabouts. They think a madman must have been behind all of this. They think they have found their madman in this lone woodsman."
"What do you think?"
"What can one think. The social worker they sent to help him was of the nosy kind. She found all of those children's clothes in various large boxes he kept around in his den. But not a trace of the bodies."
If you like Jareth, this tale will upset you.
The Pied Piper
Two
"Aw Merlin!"
Merlin the Second meowed indignantly while Sarah pushed the animal from her files. The Blue Tip Siamese Tom-cat jumped from the table and went over to the other three of his kind, lounging on the white couch, that shared the apartment with their two humans. Cleopatra, his mum, threw a foul look in the general direction of the she-human and started to scrub her son with her tongue the moment he slumped next to her. He too turned his head towards the she-human with baleful eyes. Sheherazade and Leila, his sisters, opened their sleepy eyes momentarily, then dozed off again.
Laughter came from the kitchen as Peter entered the living room, balancing munchies two glasses of red wine and a single white rose in a vase on a tray.
"Cats will be cats."
"Which is why I like dogs better."
"For whom we both do not have the time..."
"And cats are fairly easily to keep. I know, I know." Finished Sarah the old argument with a smile. She pushed back her glasses and brushed the hairs from her papers.
"I just wish they weren't shedding their fur all the time. Or at least not all over my papers!"
Peter flopped down next to the cats.
"Then don't leave them were they can lie on top. Now leave those for a minute, will ye? Have a brake. Smell the rose."
Sarah turned and smiled at her tall husband. Tall and slender, dark brown hair and a wicked grin on his face. She went over to him and curled herself into his lap. They kissed, gently, toasted to nothing in particular and just sat there, staring happily into the flames of their fireplace for a while.
The apartment was a lot smaller than they could afford, modestly yet cosily furnished. He was a history teacher at a private school for rather snobbish youngsters, she a psychiatrist with a hobby for the bizarre and difficult. Her agenda was full, filled with the abused, the sad, the lonely and the heartbroken. The searchers for self.
Yet she always found time to 'give something back' as she called it, taking a few pro deo cases or helping out the police. Twice she had aided them as a profiler- not an experience she had enjoyed particularly.
There were no children in this marriage. Sarah had wanted none and Peter had complied. He never had asked her why. She never asked him why.
They had cats. She had named the tom.
Sarah sighed.
"That hard a case?" Peter asked her with a worried little frown.
"Yeah." She shrugged.
"You know, you should not get so absorbed in this kind of work- after all, it pays you very little."
"And it keeps me away from you." she teased in sing-song.
Peter positively leered at her, pulled her towards him, nuzzled her neck and shoulder with is mouth and gently laid his hand on her breast.
"Well there are always better thing to do with our time- we see each other little enough as is. And the I have homework to correct or a meeting to prepare and you -always- have your cases..."
"Well, this one is weird." Sarah placed down her glass, stood, pushed back her glasses, again, and paced the room.
"You see, they found him, up north, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by wild animals, deer, rabbits, lots of birds, and apparently they were all listening to hear him play. On a flute. And he never said anything. He never talked. They know he can talk because he speaks in his sleep, but he never said anything. Whatever they asked of him, whatever they did to him, he stayed completely passive. No reaction, what-so-ever!"
"So- He's a nut, a hermit living in some woods, with his animals. Big deal. Why is he in state prison for that."
"In the cabin where they found him, they discovered he had lived on roots and nuts and berries and not much more. At first they just wanted to help him, you know. The locals had sent a social worker to him to check up on him. You know how they found out about him? A year ago, a teenaged girl was being raped by two men, her boyfriend beaten into unconsciousness. And suddenly, there he was, coming from the trees like fury kicking and screaming an beating those guys away. He saved those two teens."
"Your babbling."
"They said, he was dressed like a scarecrow on bare feet. With long hair and no beard. So at first they thought he was just a kid."
"Strong kid."
"Then their fathers looked for him to thank him. He fled. Shy. Afraid. In the end, they lured him out of his lair with milk and cookies. Can you imagine that? And when he finally trusted them enough to accept the clothes and shoes they offered him, he just sat down on the forest floor, and cried. Every time after that when they showed him only the smallest kindness, he was moved to tears. They liked him in that village."
"So why has he been incarcerated?"
"Over the last fourteen years, no less then twenty-three children in the age of zero to five have disappeared in that area, and everybody has been clueless as to their whereabouts. They think a madman must have been behind all of this. They think they have found their madman in this lone woodsman."
"What do you think?"
"What can one think. The social worker they sent to help him was of the nosy kind. She found all of those children's clothes in various large boxes he kept around in his den. But not a trace of the bodies."