LABYRINTH
A WHITE BIRD soaring. The sky is a glorious explosion of blue and mauve and
lavender. The setting sun washes the clouds with a delicate pink tint. The
bird swoops and spirals and you follow but then you see a labyrinth. It is
an enormous maze of incredible mandala like intricacy. From your
magnificent vantage point, you are barely able to make out it's deatails.
The twisting walls interrupted here and there by lush forest, the complex
web of waterways, the forbidding castle at the center. It is vast and
magical but frightening and compelling at the same time. You would love to
linger, perhaps fly lower and get a better look at this wondrous place, but
the bird you are following flies on.
It is an idyllic setting, warm and inviting. The late afternoon sun washes everything with a pink glow. Between the water and a line of lush fruit trees is a flower-strewn glade. A person emerges from the trees and walks toward the water. It is Hermione dressed in a flowing white dress that swirls around her in the breeze. The pink light burnishes her hair and causes a gold circlet she wears on her head to glow. She is breathtaking, a vision of innocence and grace. She stops to pick a flower and then turns suddenly as if she has heard something.
"Is it you?" she asks to apparently no one anywhere. She takes a few hurried steps and then stops, smiling shyly. "Your Highness!" Hermione says starteled. She curtsies deeply and then looks up through lowered lashes, the shy smile still dancing on her lips. And then you see a crown perched on a head of tight curls. The crown is then placed down by Hermione and she rises slowly, then looks bold at her prince she has imagined.
"Do not be swayed by my pleasure at the sight of you, my lord. For though Lucius Malfoy, the Duke, has promised you my hand, I cannot consent to be yours until the evil that stalks our land from highest hill to deepest dale is ..." Suddenly Hermione stops speaking, a look of stunned confusion on her face. ... from highest hill to deepest dale ..." Hermione's brow furrows in concentration. "Damn!" She burrows one hand into the deep sleeve of her gown and pulls out a rolled-up soft-cover book. She rifles through the pages.
The prince is not a prince at all, but a figure of Hermione's imagination. Hermione is knocked over by the wind the seems angry at her. Beneath the gown which is now a homemade and not very grand at all and a pair of faded jeans and running shoes.
Hermione just sits up and pulls the grass out of her tangled hair and sighs with frustration
On the cover of her book it says, MEANDER'S QUEEN a play in three acts by Robin Zakar. Hermione reaches for it and we hear a clock tower begin to chime. She leaps to her feet. "Oh no, for wizard's sakes! I'm really late! Why does everything have to happen to me!!!?"
She grabs her book and her crown and races out of the park. She hikes up her dress and runs into the trees. Hermione comes bursting through the trees and runs down a hill toward the street. Now you notice that the light isn't pink any more but sort of dull and hazy, and the idyllic glade is barely a suburban park, and this is just an ordinary day in a very ordinary place.
It is an idyllic setting, warm and inviting. The late afternoon sun washes everything with a pink glow. Between the water and a line of lush fruit trees is a flower-strewn glade. A person emerges from the trees and walks toward the water. It is Hermione dressed in a flowing white dress that swirls around her in the breeze. The pink light burnishes her hair and causes a gold circlet she wears on her head to glow. She is breathtaking, a vision of innocence and grace. She stops to pick a flower and then turns suddenly as if she has heard something.
"Is it you?" she asks to apparently no one anywhere. She takes a few hurried steps and then stops, smiling shyly. "Your Highness!" Hermione says starteled. She curtsies deeply and then looks up through lowered lashes, the shy smile still dancing on her lips. And then you see a crown perched on a head of tight curls. The crown is then placed down by Hermione and she rises slowly, then looks bold at her prince she has imagined.
"Do not be swayed by my pleasure at the sight of you, my lord. For though Lucius Malfoy, the Duke, has promised you my hand, I cannot consent to be yours until the evil that stalks our land from highest hill to deepest dale is ..." Suddenly Hermione stops speaking, a look of stunned confusion on her face. ... from highest hill to deepest dale ..." Hermione's brow furrows in concentration. "Damn!" She burrows one hand into the deep sleeve of her gown and pulls out a rolled-up soft-cover book. She rifles through the pages.
The prince is not a prince at all, but a figure of Hermione's imagination. Hermione is knocked over by the wind the seems angry at her. Beneath the gown which is now a homemade and not very grand at all and a pair of faded jeans and running shoes.
Hermione just sits up and pulls the grass out of her tangled hair and sighs with frustration
On the cover of her book it says, MEANDER'S QUEEN a play in three acts by Robin Zakar. Hermione reaches for it and we hear a clock tower begin to chime. She leaps to her feet. "Oh no, for wizard's sakes! I'm really late! Why does everything have to happen to me!!!?"
She grabs her book and her crown and races out of the park. She hikes up her dress and runs into the trees. Hermione comes bursting through the trees and runs down a hill toward the street. Now you notice that the light isn't pink any more but sort of dull and hazy, and the idyllic glade is barely a suburban park, and this is just an ordinary day in a very ordinary place.