Chapter 4

Sarah struggled to stay on the horse as she flew through the darkness, wondering what she was thinking, and wishing, not for the first time, she would wake up and this would all be a dream. The fall through the darkness seemed to take forever, and she was beginning to think it would never end when it suddenly did. She fell from the horse and landed hard on the ground. Shaken but unhurt, Sarah stood and brushed herself off, looking around at where the horse had taken her. She was in a wood full of dark trees and sinister looking bushes. It looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. "Um…Hoggle? Ludo? Didimus? Are you guys around here?" There was no answer, save for a distant, clicking sound. "Oh great. Just great." Sarah muttered. She wanted to blame Jareth for their absence, but she knew it was her own fault. If she hadn't have leapt so impulsively onto the carousal they would still be with her. Too bad, she thought. It's always easier if you have someone else to blame. The clicking sound came again, closer this time, and she whirled around, a sense of unease creeping over her. She recognized that sound, but couldn't place why. Her horse whinnied in alarm at the noise and took off into the trees, leaving Sarah alone with a growing sense of dread.

"Hey!" a shrill, manic voice suddenly shouted in her ear, and she spun around, terrified. There in front of her was a wiry creature that seemed to be all eyes and limbs, with wild orange and yellow fur. "Wha'cha doin' lady?" it asked her, and Sarah realized, with a sinking feeling in her stomach that she was once again facing creatures Hoggle had called Fireys.

"I'm leaving," she replied, hoping a hasty retreat would help avoid repeating the trouble she had with the creatures the last time.

"Don't you want to play with us?"

"No thank you. Not today. I have to get out of here." She backed away but, not surprisingly, found herself surrounded by the creatures. They broke into a raccous song, tossing their heads and rolling their eyes, literally, by pulling them out of the sockets and tossing them onto the ground. Sarah remembered this exhibition from her first visit, and how they frightened her, but now, for some reason, all she could think of is they seemed to be some kind of a parody of a frat party or something. Song over at last, the creatures started to surround her again, but she pushed them away, feeling more annoyed than frightened at this point. "Look," she spoke in her most authoritative voice, "I don't have time for this. My head doesn't come off, my eyeballs don't come out and none of my limbs can be removed or re-grown, so just let me leave in peace, okay?'

The spokes-firey looked nonplussed at her direct manner. "Don't you want to throw our heads? He said you would."

"Who said I would?"

"T…" one of the other creatures started to speak, but was silenced by the others.

"Come on, lady. Play the game with us."

"No. I don't play games."

"Sure you do. You played before."

"Yes, well, I'm a grown up now. I just want to get out of here and back to my real life, okay?"

To her surprise they backed away. "Gee, lady," the first creature said, almost sadly. "You have lost it."

"Lost what?"

"Your imagination, lady," said the Firey. "You're wrapped up so tight, it's no wonder your head doesn't come off. Your head don't go anywhere any more."

Before Sarah could retort, or even understand exactly what they were talking about, the creatures laughed and darted away, leaving her alone in the darkening wood. She stared after them for a few moments, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. She had fully expected to be chased through the forest by the Fireys, and their sudden departure was confusing to say the least, not to mention that cryptic comment about her imagination. She wanted to deny it, but she knew the Firey was right. It had been years since she wrote a story, read a non-fiction book or even saw a play. She spent her time with her work, and occasionally with friends, or men, but even then they stuck to practical things, arguing politics or discussing healthcare. "There's nothing wrong with that," she said to the empty trees. "I'm a grown-up. That's what grown ups do." There was no answer save for a distant sighing in the trees. It sounded sad.

"And there, that's my imagination getting the best of me." She sat down on the mossy grass and ran her hand across her face in an exhausted gesture. "This is ridiculous, what am I doing here?"

Without warning the ground underneath her opened up and she found sliding through a dark and twisting tunnel. Remembering the last time this happened she wound up almost in the Bog of Stench, she tried desperately to stop her fall, but the slide was too fast and slippery, and before she knew it she landed with a bone-jarring thump on the ground. Wincing, she got to her feet, and her initial relief at not being in the Bog of Stench turned to fear when she recognized the place she landed.

She was in the oubliette.