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
Four
Sarah opened her eyes wide to the night. Her alarm told her it was only half past three. After their lovemaking, she had fallen asleep in her husbands embrace, but in their sleep they had pulled free, so she could easily slip from the bed. She fumbled on the nightstand for her glasses, put them on, slipped into her navy blue bathrobe and grey slippers and silently left the bedroom. Before opening the door to the hallway, she bent down and held her hand low, somewhere at the height of a cat's chest. They had turned all doorknobs up in their flat to prevent illicit entries, but leaving the bedroom in the middle of the night, no matter how softly, was simply too big an invitation.
Upon opening the door, she caught the daring Cleopatra and was luckily quick enough to shove Leila away with her foot. Sarah closed the door softly. The big cat in her arms purred and rubbed it's head against her upper arm. This did not meant the cat had suddenly started to like Sarah, it simply implied she was hungry. Living with four Siamese cats for years had left Sarah well versed in cat speak. She had to feed them first, before anything else, even before going to the bathroom, or their meowing might wake and upset her husband.
He moaned softly when he woke. His back hurt, he could not move his arms and he could not see. But he kept his eyes open, for if he closed them, the searing, all devouring light would return. He shivered and stared into nothingness. Trying to ignore the tiny voices that always seemed to find him in moments like this.
"Where are you?"
"Please- we have been searching for you for so long!"
"We felt you! Just one tiny moment! But it is not enough!"
"We know you are not dead- please, come back to us."
"Please, let us find you."
"We miss you."
"Oh shut up!" he whispered back to the ghostly voices he did not know how to respond to. They haunted him, unsettled him with their intensity. Yet, they were too vague, to soft to be real. He tried to ignore them, focussed on the real voices, all around- and quickly shied away from them. Too loud, sad, violent. He could not connect with them- they could not bring him peace- Where were the small voices that -never- thought of difficult things?
There! There they were! Below him, near the water. In the big pipes under the city. Yes, there they were- thinking only of a next meal, their mate, a place to sleep. It was so soothing, these simple minds.
"Oh I wish you would come to me, my little friends."
He closed his eyes and drifted off again.
Sarah took a sip of the herbal tea she just made herself, watching the happily munching cats at her feet. She was a dog person and would always be a dog person. Peter had convinced her once Siamese were the dogs under the cats, loyal and loving to their keepers and so they were to be a compromise. But to Sarah they were just, well, cats. She didn't like the animals and they did not seemed to be overjoyed with her. But they all loved Peter, and somehow had found their common ground in him. Mostly the cats and she ignored each other, except when it was time for dinner.
Leaning against the kitchen sink, Sarah sighed. She had not dreamt that dream since five years. Meeting Peter, falling in love with him- that had finally stopped the nightmare. Was it only five years ago she had met him? Two since they had married? She stared for a moment at the simple but expensive elegant platinum band around her finger. She had wanted a silver one with a small diamond in it, something sparkling- Peter had chosen differently and the ring was beautiful. But it did not sparkle. Actually, it usually was very dull.
She knew what the dream was, of course. Jareth's ballroom. Jareth's seduction. Jateth's death.
Or as dear old Dr. Bennet had told her, in the three years he had been her shrink, her fight against the disillusions that had made her so depressed that in her own mind she had to kill them. The black figures symbolising her growth into adulthood.
Crap. Utter nonsense and crap. She knew better. But what the dream meant, she still did not know.
And it was the only thing mild Dr. Bob Bennet -had- been wrong about. The first six months after Sarah's return from the Labyrinth, she had been walking on sunshine. Proud with herself and happy with the world. She even started to see her stepmother in another light and Sarah had found a handle to make themselves grow a real relationship. She had asked Karen to teach her how to cook. It was something practical and motherly, typically something Karen would like, and Karen had been delighted with Sarah's willingness to be taught.
Walking on sunshine.
Sarah knew she could never talk about her experiences in the Labyrinth, never go back to the Labyrinth (not that she had expected it), never forget the Labyrinth. She wrote little stories about her friends from 'over there' and told them to Toby. Who apparently had been none the worse for his experience.
She could however talk to Hoggle and the others, through her mirror. They even talked about the King and how he just went on with a 'business as usual' attitude, while he had been deeply humiliated by her. And hurt in a way Sarah did not understood when dear Hoggle tried to talk to her about this. She had been such a wimp, in those days. Such a little girl.
Well, she had only been fifteen- damnit.
The last time she had spoken her dear dwarf friend was through the static and blur of fading magic. Apparently, Jareth had -allowed- Hoggle to contact her, had wanted for some reason or other for Sarah not to forget about them, or him. It had been his magic Hoggle had been using to be able to talk to her.
Then, one night, the nightmare had started. And she woke screaming, in the arms of her pale and frightened father who had no idea why his child had yelled out in her sleep so loud she woke the household.
And the next day Sarah was forced to say goodbye to all of her labyrinth friends- for the King had disappeared. Quickly, through their fading contact, Sarah related her dream to Hoggle and the others. Hoggle had been so worried, just before his image faded and the mirror simply became her vanity mirror for always.
She missed them terribly. And found she was very worried for Jareth. In her spare time, she started looking for him. She did not know why. Both logic and reason told her it might not even be her very world he had been lost in. But still she went looking for him.
It felt so terribly empty to be living in a world were there was no Goblin King. As if a subtle glimmer of magic had gone from her life. With her only aware of it's existence by it's absence.
Sarah's parents asked her what she was looking for. She did not answer, she could not.
Sarah's smile faded and she became an insomniac. For every night, the dream returned. And when Robert Williams noticed this in his girl, and saw no improvement, only a weakening and a fading of her health, he sat her down on the couch and in a long, gentle speech he explained to her he wanted her to see a psychiatrist. He would not allow his girl to slip away further in whatever kind of depression she had fallen into.
Reluctantly, Sarah complied.
The next three years for one hour every week and later on biweekly, she spoke to her friendly doctor who helped her to come to terms with her mother walking out on her and her father, the loss of her friends and many things more. At the end of those three years, Sarah had a good grasp of her own mind and understood a lot of her motives better than most people her age. She seemed older, than the people of her age. Dr. Bennet had called her a caring, understanding young woman, an intelligent and good listener and a person with a clear mind for business. He advised her to follow in his footsteps and go and study psychiatry. Giving up on many a childhood dream, she did.
Sarah had never spoken of the Labyrinth.
Her studies and following career went very well, just as Dr. Bennet had predicted.
One evening, at a party, she fell in love with a blue eyed dark haired man. He was tall, slender and could smile like a devil.
She had not dreamt The Dream, that night. In fact, it had not returned for as long as she knew Peter. And now it was there again, full force.
Sarah finished her tea, cleaned her cup and put it away.
She walked to the living room, went outside to their small balcony. It would be autumn soon, but the night was still a warm one, here in de city. Citylights and pollution blocked out the stars she new were there, yet she still stared out.
"Why now Jareth. Why now when I am finally content with my life do you come back? And were -are- you?"
Hernando Valdez -hated- these nightly shifts, when the lights went to only half their strength and the gloomy corridors went positively spooky. He made his rounds, opening the little slits in the doors of the occupied cells, checking as far as he could by vision how the occupants fared.
Tonight was even worse, for that weird power outage- the fifth one since- Well, since they dragged -him- in. This night he had to make his round by the light of a flashlight only and it freaked him out. As one could assume from the name, Hernando was a Latino, drifted up north to find fame and fortune. He wanted to be a lawyer and took classes whenever he could. He was bright, worked hard and one day he would reach all of his goals. Right now he was stuck in a dead end job, working as a orderly in the psychiatric ward of a prison. Right now, he wanted he had studied for the clergy. Fingering the crucifix on the small chain around his neck, he walked through the darkness, peeking inside the cells- until he heard a soft, scratching sound.
It came from the isolation block. And only -he- was there.
So carefully, Hernando took the turn and shone his powerful flashlight into the empty corridor. Nothing.
But the scratching sound was there, soft little squeals, the sound of tiny nails on the floor coming at him.
Shaking, Hernando pointed the light at the floor, and stopped his scream of terror with his fist against his mouth.
In his harsh white beam of light, the floor lived and moved with the flow of tiny furred bodies, cluttering the cell and scratching at the door of the single occupied one, as if they could not wait to be near the creature inside.
It was too much- just too damn much. Hernando screamed, turned and ran for his life.
Rats. Hundreds of them.
If you like Jareth, this tale will upset you.
The Pied Piper
Four
Sarah opened her eyes wide to the night. Her alarm told her it was only half past three. After their lovemaking, she had fallen asleep in her husbands embrace, but in their sleep they had pulled free, so she could easily slip from the bed. She fumbled on the nightstand for her glasses, put them on, slipped into her navy blue bathrobe and grey slippers and silently left the bedroom. Before opening the door to the hallway, she bent down and held her hand low, somewhere at the height of a cat's chest. They had turned all doorknobs up in their flat to prevent illicit entries, but leaving the bedroom in the middle of the night, no matter how softly, was simply too big an invitation.
Upon opening the door, she caught the daring Cleopatra and was luckily quick enough to shove Leila away with her foot. Sarah closed the door softly. The big cat in her arms purred and rubbed it's head against her upper arm. This did not meant the cat had suddenly started to like Sarah, it simply implied she was hungry. Living with four Siamese cats for years had left Sarah well versed in cat speak. She had to feed them first, before anything else, even before going to the bathroom, or their meowing might wake and upset her husband.
He moaned softly when he woke. His back hurt, he could not move his arms and he could not see. But he kept his eyes open, for if he closed them, the searing, all devouring light would return. He shivered and stared into nothingness. Trying to ignore the tiny voices that always seemed to find him in moments like this.
"Where are you?"
"Please- we have been searching for you for so long!"
"We felt you! Just one tiny moment! But it is not enough!"
"We know you are not dead- please, come back to us."
"Please, let us find you."
"We miss you."
"Oh shut up!" he whispered back to the ghostly voices he did not know how to respond to. They haunted him, unsettled him with their intensity. Yet, they were too vague, to soft to be real. He tried to ignore them, focussed on the real voices, all around- and quickly shied away from them. Too loud, sad, violent. He could not connect with them- they could not bring him peace- Where were the small voices that -never- thought of difficult things?
There! There they were! Below him, near the water. In the big pipes under the city. Yes, there they were- thinking only of a next meal, their mate, a place to sleep. It was so soothing, these simple minds.
"Oh I wish you would come to me, my little friends."
He closed his eyes and drifted off again.
Sarah took a sip of the herbal tea she just made herself, watching the happily munching cats at her feet. She was a dog person and would always be a dog person. Peter had convinced her once Siamese were the dogs under the cats, loyal and loving to their keepers and so they were to be a compromise. But to Sarah they were just, well, cats. She didn't like the animals and they did not seemed to be overjoyed with her. But they all loved Peter, and somehow had found their common ground in him. Mostly the cats and she ignored each other, except when it was time for dinner.
Leaning against the kitchen sink, Sarah sighed. She had not dreamt that dream since five years. Meeting Peter, falling in love with him- that had finally stopped the nightmare. Was it only five years ago she had met him? Two since they had married? She stared for a moment at the simple but expensive elegant platinum band around her finger. She had wanted a silver one with a small diamond in it, something sparkling- Peter had chosen differently and the ring was beautiful. But it did not sparkle. Actually, it usually was very dull.
She knew what the dream was, of course. Jareth's ballroom. Jareth's seduction. Jateth's death.
Or as dear old Dr. Bennet had told her, in the three years he had been her shrink, her fight against the disillusions that had made her so depressed that in her own mind she had to kill them. The black figures symbolising her growth into adulthood.
Crap. Utter nonsense and crap. She knew better. But what the dream meant, she still did not know.
And it was the only thing mild Dr. Bob Bennet -had- been wrong about. The first six months after Sarah's return from the Labyrinth, she had been walking on sunshine. Proud with herself and happy with the world. She even started to see her stepmother in another light and Sarah had found a handle to make themselves grow a real relationship. She had asked Karen to teach her how to cook. It was something practical and motherly, typically something Karen would like, and Karen had been delighted with Sarah's willingness to be taught.
Walking on sunshine.
Sarah knew she could never talk about her experiences in the Labyrinth, never go back to the Labyrinth (not that she had expected it), never forget the Labyrinth. She wrote little stories about her friends from 'over there' and told them to Toby. Who apparently had been none the worse for his experience.
She could however talk to Hoggle and the others, through her mirror. They even talked about the King and how he just went on with a 'business as usual' attitude, while he had been deeply humiliated by her. And hurt in a way Sarah did not understood when dear Hoggle tried to talk to her about this. She had been such a wimp, in those days. Such a little girl.
Well, she had only been fifteen- damnit.
The last time she had spoken her dear dwarf friend was through the static and blur of fading magic. Apparently, Jareth had -allowed- Hoggle to contact her, had wanted for some reason or other for Sarah not to forget about them, or him. It had been his magic Hoggle had been using to be able to talk to her.
Then, one night, the nightmare had started. And she woke screaming, in the arms of her pale and frightened father who had no idea why his child had yelled out in her sleep so loud she woke the household.
And the next day Sarah was forced to say goodbye to all of her labyrinth friends- for the King had disappeared. Quickly, through their fading contact, Sarah related her dream to Hoggle and the others. Hoggle had been so worried, just before his image faded and the mirror simply became her vanity mirror for always.
She missed them terribly. And found she was very worried for Jareth. In her spare time, she started looking for him. She did not know why. Both logic and reason told her it might not even be her very world he had been lost in. But still she went looking for him.
It felt so terribly empty to be living in a world were there was no Goblin King. As if a subtle glimmer of magic had gone from her life. With her only aware of it's existence by it's absence.
Sarah's parents asked her what she was looking for. She did not answer, she could not.
Sarah's smile faded and she became an insomniac. For every night, the dream returned. And when Robert Williams noticed this in his girl, and saw no improvement, only a weakening and a fading of her health, he sat her down on the couch and in a long, gentle speech he explained to her he wanted her to see a psychiatrist. He would not allow his girl to slip away further in whatever kind of depression she had fallen into.
Reluctantly, Sarah complied.
The next three years for one hour every week and later on biweekly, she spoke to her friendly doctor who helped her to come to terms with her mother walking out on her and her father, the loss of her friends and many things more. At the end of those three years, Sarah had a good grasp of her own mind and understood a lot of her motives better than most people her age. She seemed older, than the people of her age. Dr. Bennet had called her a caring, understanding young woman, an intelligent and good listener and a person with a clear mind for business. He advised her to follow in his footsteps and go and study psychiatry. Giving up on many a childhood dream, she did.
Sarah had never spoken of the Labyrinth.
Her studies and following career went very well, just as Dr. Bennet had predicted.
One evening, at a party, she fell in love with a blue eyed dark haired man. He was tall, slender and could smile like a devil.
She had not dreamt The Dream, that night. In fact, it had not returned for as long as she knew Peter. And now it was there again, full force.
Sarah finished her tea, cleaned her cup and put it away.
She walked to the living room, went outside to their small balcony. It would be autumn soon, but the night was still a warm one, here in de city. Citylights and pollution blocked out the stars she new were there, yet she still stared out.
"Why now Jareth. Why now when I am finally content with my life do you come back? And were -are- you?"
Hernando Valdez -hated- these nightly shifts, when the lights went to only half their strength and the gloomy corridors went positively spooky. He made his rounds, opening the little slits in the doors of the occupied cells, checking as far as he could by vision how the occupants fared.
Tonight was even worse, for that weird power outage- the fifth one since- Well, since they dragged -him- in. This night he had to make his round by the light of a flashlight only and it freaked him out. As one could assume from the name, Hernando was a Latino, drifted up north to find fame and fortune. He wanted to be a lawyer and took classes whenever he could. He was bright, worked hard and one day he would reach all of his goals. Right now he was stuck in a dead end job, working as a orderly in the psychiatric ward of a prison. Right now, he wanted he had studied for the clergy. Fingering the crucifix on the small chain around his neck, he walked through the darkness, peeking inside the cells- until he heard a soft, scratching sound.
It came from the isolation block. And only -he- was there.
So carefully, Hernando took the turn and shone his powerful flashlight into the empty corridor. Nothing.
But the scratching sound was there, soft little squeals, the sound of tiny nails on the floor coming at him.
Shaking, Hernando pointed the light at the floor, and stopped his scream of terror with his fist against his mouth.
In his harsh white beam of light, the floor lived and moved with the flow of tiny furred bodies, cluttering the cell and scratching at the door of the single occupied one, as if they could not wait to be near the creature inside.
It was too much- just too damn much. Hernando screamed, turned and ran for his life.
Rats. Hundreds of them.