Sarah: Homecoming?
Sarah walked confidently up to the wall of the Labyrinth. It was as she remembered it, except there was no small, wrinkled man spraying fairies. In fact, there didn't seem to be any fairies at all, and the ivy along the walls seemed a bit...withered. Odd. The doors were still there, open, waiting for her as if they'd known she was coming. She walked through them.
The hallway, too, was much as she remembered it, stretching on infinitely in either direction, the walls still looking rather slimy and dismal. Dry leaves piled in places, and moss grew between the bricks. But strangely, none of the plants seemed to be alive; in fact, as she walked closer, she saw that the moss, which had once had a small eye capping each stem was now shriveled. She touched one of the blackened stems and it crumbled to dust beneath her fingers.
"How odd," she said aloud, walking along the walls. She couldn't orient herself to find the hidden opening she'd gone through before, but she didn't suppose it mattered much. She ran her hands lightly along the slippery bricks as she walked, and it wasn't long before her hand passed through a door. She walked through, wondering which side would be better. Shrugging, she turned to the left.
Through the opening was another dank hallway, but she could see light at the end of it. She smiled dryly. Ironic, a light at the end of the tunnel. But no birds singing, no sound at all save her echoing footsteps and the soft sound of wind. Her brow furrowed...when she was here before, there were all sorts of odd noises. Now.
She stopped at the opening of the tunnel, her mouth open. She'd rather expected the same stone maze she'd seen before, brown-gray walls hung with plants and ivy. But in its place was a cold, barren creation made of wrought branches. Dead wrought branches, she realized quickly, walls covered with twisted dark brown and black vines.
She walked closer, stroking the boughs with her fingers. The bark was rough and gritty like heavy sandpaper, and flakes of it came away at her touch. Sarah gaped-these were the same stone walls she'd seen! It was clear now that the plants that had decorated the stone before had grown wild in her absence. Grown wild and then died in place.
She bit her lip nervously. Most of what she'd seen so far had been dead, and she'd seen no goblins...it wasn't difficult for her mind to fill in all sorts of ghastly possibilities. Where were all the goblins?
She kept walking, turning when she felt she ought to, not really knowing where she was or where she was going. At every turn she found more overgrown plants, all dry and withered. Even the paving stones had come loose, dead sprigs of plants pushing the mortar out of place. She had to watch her step carefully lest she trip over one of the many displaced stones.
Suddenly she reached a clearing, and again she gasped in surprise. On a stone bench sat a creature completely covered by what looked like a thick gray veil, glittering faintly. Sarah stepped closer. Cobwebs, the creature was coated head to toe in heavy gray cobwebs. It was a human shape, with what appeared to be a long, thin stake extending from the top of its head. At once, Sarah recognized what she was looking at. Somewhere, under those ages of cobwebs, sat the goblin wise man. Sarah took a step back. "It must be dead," she said under her breath, fearing to come closer.
Suddenly, a piercing whistle cut through the air. Sarah shrieked in surprise, her heart racing. The wise man's hat was moving, its veil of cobwebs twining around it. "Woo woo! Hola, seniorita!" it said in a trilling voice, swaying from left to right as it spoke.
"Oh! You're alive!" she cried, racing towards the hat.
"Aye, but can you get this crap off of me?" Fine clouds of dust rose as it spoke, and the cobwebs molded to its beak. It coughed. Quickly, Sarah stroked away the cobwebs. The birdlike head arched back as if the hat was stretching. "Aaahhhhh," it sighed delightedly. "Its so good to get some air! Well then!"
Sarah beamed. "I can't tell you how glad I am that you're alive! Oh," she sobered, "but what about the wise man?"
"Eh!" the hat replied, "wise guy you mean!" The hat bent its long neck until its ruddy-feathered head looked directly into the wise man's face. Unceremoniously, it snapped its beak over the bulbous nose.
The old man spluttered and shifted. "Insolent hat," he said, sinking back as if to sleep.
"Wait!" Sarah cried, stepping forward to pull more cobwebs away.
"Well," the wise man said slowly, his eyes focusing for the first time. "You have returned."
"Of course she's returned!" the hat agreed, sounding annoyed.
The old man's eyes rolled upwards. "Be QUIET!" he said gruffly before turning his attention back to Sarah. "Now then, my dear. You have noticed that a great many things have changed. But you will find that even more things have remained the same."
The hat rolled its eyes and squawked, "Ach! You never change, that's for sure!"
Sarah smiled; despite the apparent uselessness of the old man's words, it was reassuring to see the familiar bickering between man and hat. She laughed.
The old man looked at her seriously. "You yourself have changed, and yet stayed the same."
"I have?" she asked blankly.
"Yes. You are not the same girl who defeated us before. But your heart, your dearest wishes remain unchanged."
Sarah frowned. Was her heart the same? She couldn't imagine that was so; it had been broken and trampled so much that it was unrecognizable. She'd grown harder, more bitter and far more cynical. And yet...she shrugged. Didn't matter right now. "Wise man, what should I know so I can solve the Labyrinth?"
The man smiled slightly. "You already know all that you need."
She made a face but held her tongue. No use bothering the old man further; he'd clearly been out of it for some time. And even under the best of circumstances he'd been oblique and hard to follow. As she watched, he sank slowly back into his seat, eyes closing. Sara's face soured--no wonder he'd wound up covered by years of cobwebs.
The hat clucked. "Ach! Why do you even bother?" He shook his head, shaking more feathers loose. "Please leave a contribution in...ach, you know where to put it!" If the beak could have expressed a frown, it would have.
Sarah shook her head and pulled a couple of coins from her pocket, dropping them into the wooden box the old man still held. It too had aged: it looked soft, almost spongy, and the coins neither rattled nor chinked as they landed. "Thank you," she said wryly, walking back into the wrought wood of the maze. Behind her, the hat's muttering mixed with the old man's snores.
Sarah walked confidently up to the wall of the Labyrinth. It was as she remembered it, except there was no small, wrinkled man spraying fairies. In fact, there didn't seem to be any fairies at all, and the ivy along the walls seemed a bit...withered. Odd. The doors were still there, open, waiting for her as if they'd known she was coming. She walked through them.
The hallway, too, was much as she remembered it, stretching on infinitely in either direction, the walls still looking rather slimy and dismal. Dry leaves piled in places, and moss grew between the bricks. But strangely, none of the plants seemed to be alive; in fact, as she walked closer, she saw that the moss, which had once had a small eye capping each stem was now shriveled. She touched one of the blackened stems and it crumbled to dust beneath her fingers.
"How odd," she said aloud, walking along the walls. She couldn't orient herself to find the hidden opening she'd gone through before, but she didn't suppose it mattered much. She ran her hands lightly along the slippery bricks as she walked, and it wasn't long before her hand passed through a door. She walked through, wondering which side would be better. Shrugging, she turned to the left.
Through the opening was another dank hallway, but she could see light at the end of it. She smiled dryly. Ironic, a light at the end of the tunnel. But no birds singing, no sound at all save her echoing footsteps and the soft sound of wind. Her brow furrowed...when she was here before, there were all sorts of odd noises. Now.
She stopped at the opening of the tunnel, her mouth open. She'd rather expected the same stone maze she'd seen before, brown-gray walls hung with plants and ivy. But in its place was a cold, barren creation made of wrought branches. Dead wrought branches, she realized quickly, walls covered with twisted dark brown and black vines.
She walked closer, stroking the boughs with her fingers. The bark was rough and gritty like heavy sandpaper, and flakes of it came away at her touch. Sarah gaped-these were the same stone walls she'd seen! It was clear now that the plants that had decorated the stone before had grown wild in her absence. Grown wild and then died in place.
She bit her lip nervously. Most of what she'd seen so far had been dead, and she'd seen no goblins...it wasn't difficult for her mind to fill in all sorts of ghastly possibilities. Where were all the goblins?
She kept walking, turning when she felt she ought to, not really knowing where she was or where she was going. At every turn she found more overgrown plants, all dry and withered. Even the paving stones had come loose, dead sprigs of plants pushing the mortar out of place. She had to watch her step carefully lest she trip over one of the many displaced stones.
Suddenly she reached a clearing, and again she gasped in surprise. On a stone bench sat a creature completely covered by what looked like a thick gray veil, glittering faintly. Sarah stepped closer. Cobwebs, the creature was coated head to toe in heavy gray cobwebs. It was a human shape, with what appeared to be a long, thin stake extending from the top of its head. At once, Sarah recognized what she was looking at. Somewhere, under those ages of cobwebs, sat the goblin wise man. Sarah took a step back. "It must be dead," she said under her breath, fearing to come closer.
Suddenly, a piercing whistle cut through the air. Sarah shrieked in surprise, her heart racing. The wise man's hat was moving, its veil of cobwebs twining around it. "Woo woo! Hola, seniorita!" it said in a trilling voice, swaying from left to right as it spoke.
"Oh! You're alive!" she cried, racing towards the hat.
"Aye, but can you get this crap off of me?" Fine clouds of dust rose as it spoke, and the cobwebs molded to its beak. It coughed. Quickly, Sarah stroked away the cobwebs. The birdlike head arched back as if the hat was stretching. "Aaahhhhh," it sighed delightedly. "Its so good to get some air! Well then!"
Sarah beamed. "I can't tell you how glad I am that you're alive! Oh," she sobered, "but what about the wise man?"
"Eh!" the hat replied, "wise guy you mean!" The hat bent its long neck until its ruddy-feathered head looked directly into the wise man's face. Unceremoniously, it snapped its beak over the bulbous nose.
The old man spluttered and shifted. "Insolent hat," he said, sinking back as if to sleep.
"Wait!" Sarah cried, stepping forward to pull more cobwebs away.
"Well," the wise man said slowly, his eyes focusing for the first time. "You have returned."
"Of course she's returned!" the hat agreed, sounding annoyed.
The old man's eyes rolled upwards. "Be QUIET!" he said gruffly before turning his attention back to Sarah. "Now then, my dear. You have noticed that a great many things have changed. But you will find that even more things have remained the same."
The hat rolled its eyes and squawked, "Ach! You never change, that's for sure!"
Sarah smiled; despite the apparent uselessness of the old man's words, it was reassuring to see the familiar bickering between man and hat. She laughed.
The old man looked at her seriously. "You yourself have changed, and yet stayed the same."
"I have?" she asked blankly.
"Yes. You are not the same girl who defeated us before. But your heart, your dearest wishes remain unchanged."
Sarah frowned. Was her heart the same? She couldn't imagine that was so; it had been broken and trampled so much that it was unrecognizable. She'd grown harder, more bitter and far more cynical. And yet...she shrugged. Didn't matter right now. "Wise man, what should I know so I can solve the Labyrinth?"
The man smiled slightly. "You already know all that you need."
She made a face but held her tongue. No use bothering the old man further; he'd clearly been out of it for some time. And even under the best of circumstances he'd been oblique and hard to follow. As she watched, he sank slowly back into his seat, eyes closing. Sara's face soured--no wonder he'd wound up covered by years of cobwebs.
The hat clucked. "Ach! Why do you even bother?" He shook his head, shaking more feathers loose. "Please leave a contribution in...ach, you know where to put it!" If the beak could have expressed a frown, it would have.
Sarah shook her head and pulled a couple of coins from her pocket, dropping them into the wooden box the old man still held. It too had aged: it looked soft, almost spongy, and the coins neither rattled nor chinked as they landed. "Thank you," she said wryly, walking back into the wrought wood of the maze. Behind her, the hat's muttering mixed with the old man's snores.
