Title: Something Has to Give
Author: AKA Jay
E-Mail: aka_jay66@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. They belong to Jim Henson Productions. For the most part, this is a good thing.
Feedback: Would be appreciated. :)
Summary: Wouldn't that involve some forethought on my part?
Author's notes:
General: I reply to all my reviews in the review section, so if you ever asked me a question or well, said anything, odds are there's a response in there for you. Notice how I say 'response' rather than 'coherent reply'. There's a reason for that.
Re: The Picture: A few people have asked, so I figured I'd put in my notes. It's a sketch, not a photo manipulation and thank you. *g* A new hobby, but I enjoy it.
Part Eight
Sarah couldn't bring herself to run home before the movie, despite her fervent desire to change into something less Jareth-related. Her room, once a sanctuary from reality and a place where dreams could come true, was now... exactly the same, actually. Except now it's a bad thing. Ah, the ever changing tapestry of life.
The frightening sameness of her room removing that as a viable option, Sarah was forced to turn to other means of occupying her time for the hour before the movie started. The best thing would have been for her to spend the time with a punching bag or, failing that, a large sack of hay with 'You say that so often' written on it in big black letters.
Unfortunately for all concerned, Sarah wasn't of a violent turn of mind. You might not be able to prove that from recent events, but it was still true. She decided to go window-shopping instead, starting at the opposite end of the mall from the movie theatre and slowly ambling her way through.
The mall contained the usual motley assortment of loud, flashy chain stores. There were CD stores blaring the latest hit over and over and over again, there were electronics stores filled with beeping black boxes, and there were clothing stores also blaring the latest hit over and over and over again while displaying headless mannequins that brought a whole new meaning to the term 'fashion victim'
Sarah paused.
This store was new. It didn't look new. The wood that bordered the wide plate glass windows in front was worn to the weathered gold of old wood. The large gilt letters that spelled out 'Oddities' across the top of the storefront were cracked and peeling around the edges. It definitely gave the impression of being very old and very permanent and it definitely hadn't been there yesterday.
The harsh fluorescent light of the mall seemed to bend around the store; the objects inside were half-hidden in shadow, only enough visible to intrigue. The soft glow of candlelight skimmed over the harsh angles of some unknown weapon, lingered on the inviting softness of a comfortable chair and was ripped into rainbows by the veiled claws of gemstones.
And there, poking out from the shadow shrouded depths of an antique armoire, was It. It not only deserved the use of capital letters, It demanded them. It would track you down and jump up and down on your broken and bleeding body unless you used them.
Mind you, it wasn't quite clear what It was. Its shape seemed to shimmer in the air, creating vague suggestions of possibilities. As Sarah watched It, she first thought that maybe It was a dress. (Her mind, having finely honed survival instincts, edited that to "Dress.")
Not just any old dress, of course. It would be a Dress of rainbows made cloth, everything that she'd ever wanted spun into silk that would melt onto her skin. It would be beautiful and she would be beautiful in It.
Or, Sarah thought when she looked again, maybe It was a book. (Book.) It would be the Guidebook to Life that she'd always wanted to have. It would have all the answers, and she would never make another wrong decision or have to wonder what to do.
Whatever It was, one thing Sarah was sure of. It was important. It was desirable. It was life altering. It was the answer to the question no one could put into words, It was what every human being on the planet spent their whole lives waiting for. It was...
It was something to be avoided at all costs.
"Oh, no." Sarah said aloud, ignoring the curious looks of passer-bys. "Oh, no thank you!"
She was mildly insulted that Jareth thought she'd fall for something like this. Her? After all the fantasy books she'd read? Hah. Not frigging likely.
She knew how these things were supposed to work. Now she was supposed to be lured inside the shop by the pull of ah, Something indefinable and magical. Then, the second she's inside- bang! The door slams shut behind her. Sarah mimed a frightened look, bringing her hands to her face. (By this point, the rest of the mall patrons had written her off as street theatre.)
And then, Sarah thought with a mental eye roll, the shadows swirl around me like living creatures and I say, 'Who's there' in a trembling voice and there's a figure in the darkness and it's not going to happen!
The force of fictional documentary evidence pressed against her, the naiveté of a thousand feather-brained heroines struggling to push her into the store.
With a tremendous effort of will, Sarah turned and walked away, leaving behind the beckoning... um, Thing and more than four dollars in small change that shoppers had tossed at her feet.
The Forces of Unalterable Destiny, who got that name for a reason, were understandably miffed by her refusal to play along. The mysterious-old-shop-that-hadn't-been-there-yesterday was a good gimmick, damn it! It had worked for aeons, right back to when the people in the store were paying for things with rocks and beads.
Jack the Ripper had found his victims in the London marketplace, Dracula had cornered Mina in the narrow aisles of an antique store and it was out of the dusty back room of a new-old amphorae shop that Hades had finally come for Persephone. In other words, the formula was fine.
Sarah was causing problems.
Much like civil service workers, the Forces of Unalterable Destiny didn't get paid enough to get creative. But where civil service workers just get tetchy if they're forced to deviate from their standard pattern, the Forces had a few more options available to them.
It probably would have been better for Sarah if she'd just gone in.
Inside the store, It was also not happy. It had worked in the lucrative field of Innocent-Luring for the last three hundred years without a slip up. It was nearing retirement age and didn't need a blemish on Its record now. With a determined expression on Its face (when It had one) It slipped out of the shop, ignoring the now wasted ominous creaking of the door.
Shifting shape according to the greatest desires of the people viewing It, It trotted, oozed, shimmied and bounced after Sarah. The peculiarly adapted nature of It meant that this constant process of metamorphosis wasn't visible to anyone but Itself. People saw only what they wanted to see, and so It appeared to be unchanging.
Even so, you'd think that the sight of a ham sandwich/great Canadian moose/air conditioner making Its slow and steady way up the main aisle of the mall would have caused at least a few raised eyebrows, if not screaming, running, and the always popular mob hysteria.
Magic.
You've gotta love it.
And inside the recently de-baited trap, from the deepest shadow of the shadow-luxuriant shop, from a corner wrapped in that darkness that is so void of light that it can be technically classified as a texture, Jareth watched.
Jareth knew a great deal more than most people about the Forces of Unalterable Destiny. In general, he approved of them. The future was their business and they were damn good at making it happen, as evidenced by the fact that the earth continues to spin in nice round circles instead of deciding one day that hey, maybe it'd be nice to go around in squares for a while.
That's all well and good, but people (most people) are not planets. Having that same kind of attention applied to an individual's life was, for that individual, the emotional equivalent of being rubbed from head to toe with metal shavings and then dropped into a hot tub filled with salt water.
The Forces weren't at all interested in learning about the difference between planets (large, round, rocky) and people. (small, blob-shaped, squishy) Fate was Fate, and destiny was Destiny, and the Forces could be as petty as all get out about it.
Their personalities can be best described as the concentrated essence of that friend everyone has and prefers not to talk about, the one who insists on setting her friends up on blind date after blind date because she knows they're perfect for each other.
There are some differences between your friend and the Forces, however. Your friend won't tie you and your date up, force feed you both sedatives and then drive you to Vegas. (Motto: "Come for the Beer Nuts, Stay for the Shotgun Weddings!")
The Forces will if you're lucky.
Jareth knew that the situation had just become a lot more complicated. Under his breath, he viciously muttered a curse in an ancient language. Every green plant in the mall withered into brown dust. The plastic plants spontaneously came to life, then withered. The employees at the salad bar unanimously voted to close early.
He always did have a way with words.
______
End Part Eight
Tell me what you think?
Ah, It. *snicker* Once again, what the heck was I thinking? I wish I'd kept a journal of my thoughts, even though I strongly suspect I wouldn't be able to make head or tails out of it now. Still, it'd be nice to look back and make fun of myself. I make fun of myself *now*, of course, but it's just not the same.
Author: AKA Jay
E-Mail: aka_jay66@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. They belong to Jim Henson Productions. For the most part, this is a good thing.
Feedback: Would be appreciated. :)
Summary: Wouldn't that involve some forethought on my part?
Author's notes:
General: I reply to all my reviews in the review section, so if you ever asked me a question or well, said anything, odds are there's a response in there for you. Notice how I say 'response' rather than 'coherent reply'. There's a reason for that.
Re: The Picture: A few people have asked, so I figured I'd put in my notes. It's a sketch, not a photo manipulation and thank you. *g* A new hobby, but I enjoy it.
Part Eight
Sarah couldn't bring herself to run home before the movie, despite her fervent desire to change into something less Jareth-related. Her room, once a sanctuary from reality and a place where dreams could come true, was now... exactly the same, actually. Except now it's a bad thing. Ah, the ever changing tapestry of life.
The frightening sameness of her room removing that as a viable option, Sarah was forced to turn to other means of occupying her time for the hour before the movie started. The best thing would have been for her to spend the time with a punching bag or, failing that, a large sack of hay with 'You say that so often' written on it in big black letters.
Unfortunately for all concerned, Sarah wasn't of a violent turn of mind. You might not be able to prove that from recent events, but it was still true. She decided to go window-shopping instead, starting at the opposite end of the mall from the movie theatre and slowly ambling her way through.
The mall contained the usual motley assortment of loud, flashy chain stores. There were CD stores blaring the latest hit over and over and over again, there were electronics stores filled with beeping black boxes, and there were clothing stores also blaring the latest hit over and over and over again while displaying headless mannequins that brought a whole new meaning to the term 'fashion victim'
Sarah paused.
This store was new. It didn't look new. The wood that bordered the wide plate glass windows in front was worn to the weathered gold of old wood. The large gilt letters that spelled out 'Oddities' across the top of the storefront were cracked and peeling around the edges. It definitely gave the impression of being very old and very permanent and it definitely hadn't been there yesterday.
The harsh fluorescent light of the mall seemed to bend around the store; the objects inside were half-hidden in shadow, only enough visible to intrigue. The soft glow of candlelight skimmed over the harsh angles of some unknown weapon, lingered on the inviting softness of a comfortable chair and was ripped into rainbows by the veiled claws of gemstones.
And there, poking out from the shadow shrouded depths of an antique armoire, was It. It not only deserved the use of capital letters, It demanded them. It would track you down and jump up and down on your broken and bleeding body unless you used them.
Mind you, it wasn't quite clear what It was. Its shape seemed to shimmer in the air, creating vague suggestions of possibilities. As Sarah watched It, she first thought that maybe It was a dress. (Her mind, having finely honed survival instincts, edited that to "Dress.")
Not just any old dress, of course. It would be a Dress of rainbows made cloth, everything that she'd ever wanted spun into silk that would melt onto her skin. It would be beautiful and she would be beautiful in It.
Or, Sarah thought when she looked again, maybe It was a book. (Book.) It would be the Guidebook to Life that she'd always wanted to have. It would have all the answers, and she would never make another wrong decision or have to wonder what to do.
Whatever It was, one thing Sarah was sure of. It was important. It was desirable. It was life altering. It was the answer to the question no one could put into words, It was what every human being on the planet spent their whole lives waiting for. It was...
It was something to be avoided at all costs.
"Oh, no." Sarah said aloud, ignoring the curious looks of passer-bys. "Oh, no thank you!"
She was mildly insulted that Jareth thought she'd fall for something like this. Her? After all the fantasy books she'd read? Hah. Not frigging likely.
She knew how these things were supposed to work. Now she was supposed to be lured inside the shop by the pull of ah, Something indefinable and magical. Then, the second she's inside- bang! The door slams shut behind her. Sarah mimed a frightened look, bringing her hands to her face. (By this point, the rest of the mall patrons had written her off as street theatre.)
And then, Sarah thought with a mental eye roll, the shadows swirl around me like living creatures and I say, 'Who's there' in a trembling voice and there's a figure in the darkness and it's not going to happen!
The force of fictional documentary evidence pressed against her, the naiveté of a thousand feather-brained heroines struggling to push her into the store.
With a tremendous effort of will, Sarah turned and walked away, leaving behind the beckoning... um, Thing and more than four dollars in small change that shoppers had tossed at her feet.
The Forces of Unalterable Destiny, who got that name for a reason, were understandably miffed by her refusal to play along. The mysterious-old-shop-that-hadn't-been-there-yesterday was a good gimmick, damn it! It had worked for aeons, right back to when the people in the store were paying for things with rocks and beads.
Jack the Ripper had found his victims in the London marketplace, Dracula had cornered Mina in the narrow aisles of an antique store and it was out of the dusty back room of a new-old amphorae shop that Hades had finally come for Persephone. In other words, the formula was fine.
Sarah was causing problems.
Much like civil service workers, the Forces of Unalterable Destiny didn't get paid enough to get creative. But where civil service workers just get tetchy if they're forced to deviate from their standard pattern, the Forces had a few more options available to them.
It probably would have been better for Sarah if she'd just gone in.
Inside the store, It was also not happy. It had worked in the lucrative field of Innocent-Luring for the last three hundred years without a slip up. It was nearing retirement age and didn't need a blemish on Its record now. With a determined expression on Its face (when It had one) It slipped out of the shop, ignoring the now wasted ominous creaking of the door.
Shifting shape according to the greatest desires of the people viewing It, It trotted, oozed, shimmied and bounced after Sarah. The peculiarly adapted nature of It meant that this constant process of metamorphosis wasn't visible to anyone but Itself. People saw only what they wanted to see, and so It appeared to be unchanging.
Even so, you'd think that the sight of a ham sandwich/great Canadian moose/air conditioner making Its slow and steady way up the main aisle of the mall would have caused at least a few raised eyebrows, if not screaming, running, and the always popular mob hysteria.
Magic.
You've gotta love it.
And inside the recently de-baited trap, from the deepest shadow of the shadow-luxuriant shop, from a corner wrapped in that darkness that is so void of light that it can be technically classified as a texture, Jareth watched.
Jareth knew a great deal more than most people about the Forces of Unalterable Destiny. In general, he approved of them. The future was their business and they were damn good at making it happen, as evidenced by the fact that the earth continues to spin in nice round circles instead of deciding one day that hey, maybe it'd be nice to go around in squares for a while.
That's all well and good, but people (most people) are not planets. Having that same kind of attention applied to an individual's life was, for that individual, the emotional equivalent of being rubbed from head to toe with metal shavings and then dropped into a hot tub filled with salt water.
The Forces weren't at all interested in learning about the difference between planets (large, round, rocky) and people. (small, blob-shaped, squishy) Fate was Fate, and destiny was Destiny, and the Forces could be as petty as all get out about it.
Their personalities can be best described as the concentrated essence of that friend everyone has and prefers not to talk about, the one who insists on setting her friends up on blind date after blind date because she knows they're perfect for each other.
There are some differences between your friend and the Forces, however. Your friend won't tie you and your date up, force feed you both sedatives and then drive you to Vegas. (Motto: "Come for the Beer Nuts, Stay for the Shotgun Weddings!")
The Forces will if you're lucky.
Jareth knew that the situation had just become a lot more complicated. Under his breath, he viciously muttered a curse in an ancient language. Every green plant in the mall withered into brown dust. The plastic plants spontaneously came to life, then withered. The employees at the salad bar unanimously voted to close early.
He always did have a way with words.
______
End Part Eight
Tell me what you think?
Ah, It. *snicker* Once again, what the heck was I thinking? I wish I'd kept a journal of my thoughts, even though I strongly suspect I wouldn't be able to make head or tails out of it now. Still, it'd be nice to look back and make fun of myself. I make fun of myself *now*, of course, but it's just not the same.