2
Her parents having left, Sarah continued her search for Lancelot. She reluctantly searched every room in the house, coming last upon the room she dreaded; Toby's room. She entered the room quietly, not wanting to wake Toby. She stopped suddenly as the wood floor creaked under her step. Her breath caught in her chest, not daring to move. As she stood in the quiet, innocent stillness of Toby's nursery, Sarah watched his little chest rise up and down as he slept. In this moment, she thought, he wasn't so bad after all. But moments are so fleeting, and one moments bliss can easily turn into another moment's hate. Tucked neatly beneath the covers beside Toby was Lancelot, Sarah's most treasured stuffed bear.
"Give me back my bear!" she screamed, snatching the bear from Toby's cradle, her eyes clouding up. She did not take the bear especially violently, but roughly enough to uncover Toby and send him screaming. Sarah ran to her room, flopping down on her bed as tears streamed down her flushed face. Holding Lancelot tightly to her chest, she tried to block out the crying coming from the other room, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. Merlin, who had been lying on the floor, stood up and licked Sarah's face with his warm tongue.
"It's not fair, Merlin." Sarah half-whispered, her voice quivering.
Another burst of screams came from Toby's room. Now the look on Sarah's face turned from a look of sadness and self-pity to anger. Rising from her bed, she threw Lancelot across the room and stomped into Toby's nursery.
Many times in the past had Sarah been furiously mad at Toby, or, rather, jealous of the reverent attention he received from her parents. Many times had her inspired imagination concocted horrible scenarios in which Toby was at peril. But never had she said these things out loud, for an unspoken fear that they might come true. Now, Sarah could not help but release her mounting tension.
"Would you like to hear a story about what happens to little babies like you, Toby?" Toby's howls faded to loud whimpers.
"Alright then. Once there was a little baby boy... a spoiled little boy. His parents loved him so, and paid no attention to their daughter." Her voice became theatrical and once again, the actress had taken over.
"The girl hated the little boy because he was so perfect in his parent's eyes, while her parents saw her as worthless. But what none of them knew was that the girl had a dark secret. The goblin King had given her the ability to summon his henchmen to take the little boy away into the Goblin City whenever she wanted... All she had to do..." Sarah's voice trailed off, as she began to view her situation from another perspective. Her dramatic speech began to seem pretty ridiculous now. But even so, she wished with all her being that what she'd said were true. Looking down at Merlin, who stood by her side, his big eyes looking questioningly up at her, she whispered what was needed to let the Labyrinth loose. "I wish goblins would take him away."
Toby's soft whimpering was the only sound in the room when the chiming sound of the doorbell echoed through the house. Sarah looked over at Toby, who had inexplicably stopped crying, his eyes wide with panic. Because it had been light outside when her parents left, there were no lights on in the house, and now the house was eerily dark. A heavy sensation grew in the pit of her stomach as she suddenly became aware that she was all alone. She tiptoed down the stairs and came to the front door. Looking through the peep hole, she could see the moonlit silhouette of a tall, angular figure. At first, she could not tell whether it was a man or a woman, but at more careful inspection, its face revealed that it was indeed a man. He wore a royal blue velvet jacket with tails, a white shirt with frills on the cuffs underneath, and black slacks and glistening, pointy patent leather shoes. He had a strange, worldly, or rather, other worldly air about him, his clothes immaculately crisp, his age undeterminable. Sarah found something about him terribly captivating, though she couldn't pinpoint what it was. Cautiously, she cracked open the door, keeping the bolted lock in place. Tension rushed into the quiet air like a flood. Sarah's heart began pounding violently, and she desperately hoped that the man wouldn't notice the anxiety plainly written across her face. The man smiled and spoke.
"Excuse me, is this the home of Miss Sarah Williams?" he asked in a rich British accent.
"Yes... may I as who wants to know?" Sarah asked.
"Charles Augins." The man replied, bowing slightly at the waist.
Charles Augins; a name Sarah had heard countless times before, the most notable occasion being when she first read its inscription on the cover of her favorite play. Her face lit up in star-struck ecstasy. She was standing inches away from her favorite playwright.
"You wrote Labyrinth!" she said, simultaneously opening the door as far as the lock would permit.
"Yes Ma'am, I did." Charles answered, chuckling slightly.
"Just a second." Sarah said, reaching for the lock. But as she did so, her hand hovered over it as her mothers last words echoed in her mind like a nagging conscience. Don't open the door to any strangers. Sarah quickly dismissed the voice and opened the door. Charles entered and extended an elegantly gloved hand.
"It is an honor, Miss Williams." Sarah, expecting to shake his hand, placed her delicate hand in his, and in one graceful, swift movement Charles bent over and politely kissed it. Sarah's head was reeling. She stood in silence for a moment, not knowing or for that matter really caring what she should say next. Had she been at all nervous about what to say, she would have been relieved, because Charles abruptly interrupted the silence.
"I understand that you make a wonderful Augustine." he said, his smile broadening.
"Well, we've just started rehearsing... but how did you know?"
"I was passing through this part of the country when I heard that the first amateur production of it was going to be put on here. I was looking forward to attending it's opening, but was given a wonderful preview of it as I walked by your house earlier this evening."
"You know we were supposed to open tonight, but we got delayed... the firemen had to use the hall."
Sarah voice was less tensed now, her suspicions having all but vanished.
"Yes, so I heard. That's why I've come to see you."
A thunderous crash came from upstairs followed by the shrill sound of a baby's cry. Sarah startled, while Charles didn't even flinch, a rather fiendish smile spreading across his face. A strange mix of annoyance and worry crowded Sarah's thoughts at the prospect of having to leave Charles standing alone downstairs while she investigated the sound that she feared had emanated from Toby's nursery. For one magical moment, Sarah had completely forgotten her problems, and now the fragile illusion had been shattered.
Sarah rolled her eyes. "That's my brother... I'm so sorry, Mr. Augins, I'll be right back!"
She galloped up the stairs and into Toby's nursery and found the large window by his crib blown wide open by the storms furious wind. Toby was standing up in his crib screaming with fright, tears streaming down his red face.
"Oh, Toby." Sarah said, picking him up and bouncing him on her hip to quiet him while she closed the window. "Shhh... it's ok." As she did so, she thought about Charles. How privileged she was to meet him! She smiled at the thought of recalling his visit to her comrades in the theater troupe, and began to imagine what approach she would use when doing so. "You won't believe what happened last night..." she said quietly to herself. "Guess who paid me a visit last night..." In her mind she then ran over what had happened thus far, making sure not to leave out any details... his shiny shoes, his ruffled sleeves, his deep, velvety smooth voice. Wait. Sarah stood completely still. She came to a spine chilling realization.
"Perhaps I can soothe him." Sarah gasped and whirled around to see Charles leaning against the door frame with a glass of brandy in his hand. He began walking towards Sarah with a cooked smile on his face, in a manner of nonchalance that made Sarah nervous.
"Oh, no really, it's alright." Sarah said, her eyes darting about the room, not wanting to meet Charles'.
"No, Sarah. It isn't alright. Look! Toby's crying." Now Charles was standing right in front of her, looking down at her with eyes so intense that Sarah could feel their intensity even though she wasn't looking at them. Sarah stepped back, hoping to elude his commanding presence. Charles reached out to grab Toby from Sarah's arms, and Sarah could not bring herself to resist. Charles walked towards the door carrying Toby, gently bouncing him as he balanced his half-empty glass in one hand. He began to hum a song, one that Sarah recognized but couldn't remember where she'd heard before. Then, softly, he began singing. All the room appeared to be listening, for all was quiet, including Toby, who stared at Charles' face.
I saw my baby trying hard as he could try
What could I do?
My baby's love had gone
And left my baby blue
I asked myself what could I do for he?
He looks so sad because of she
What kind of spell to use?
Slimy snails and puppy dog tails
To make a magic brew
Sarah stood motionless; entranced by this strange man's hauntingly beautiful voice. Charles stopped singing and smiled a warm, tooth bearing smile at the silenced babe in his arms. Suddenly, Sarah was impressed with the foreboding, gut wrenching feeling that something was terribly wrong. Perhaps Toby too sensed the danger, because he erupted into another fit of tears.
"I don't think you should be up here." Sarah said, her eyes meeting Charles'.
"I only want to help." Charles said, raising his eyebrows in mock concern. Sarah took Toby from Charles and placed him in his crib.
"Please leave... I'm going to get it trouble. I don't care to talk about the play." Sarah said, tucking Toby in and needlessly rearranging the stuffed animals in his crib.
"Neither do I."
Sarah turned around, her eyes wide, mouth agape, shoulders raised with tension.
"What?" she said, hoping her ears had deceived her.
"I don't care to talk about the play either, Sarah." Charles said, setting his glass down carefully on a nightstand and then standing with his hands clasped behind his back, smiling with a furrowed brow all the while. "You aren't the girl I thought you were, Sarah... A genius actress. I can't have this conversation with an ordinary girl who takes care of a mulling infant."
Sarah's shoulders dropped as she bit her bottom lip and stared at the shiny wood floor. What Charles said struck a meaningful chord.
"Goodbye, Miss Williams." Charles said, shaking her lifeless hand. He briskly left the room, the stairs creaking as he descended them.
"Wait!" Sarah yelled, running to catch Charles before he reached the door. She stopped at the top of the stairs and looked over the railing, her hair hanging on either side of her face. "Please, Mr. Augins."
Charles looked up, his hand resting tentatively on the door handle.
"Things aren't always as they seem." Sarah said.
"My point exactly, Miss Williams!" Charles replied, laughing as he spoke.
"No, it's my point, Sir!" she stood silent for a moment, a thousand thoughts running through her mind at once.
"Who are you really?" she asked. She could feel the color draining from her face, surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth. The mysterious stranger walked slowly away from the door, and for what felt to Sarah like an eternity, the room was silent. "For goodness sake, Sarah! What is it that you'd like me to be?" he asked, raising his arms and shrugging his shoulders in frustration. "Goodbye." Then he opened the front door and walked out into the dark, drizzly night, not looking back even once.
Her parents having left, Sarah continued her search for Lancelot. She reluctantly searched every room in the house, coming last upon the room she dreaded; Toby's room. She entered the room quietly, not wanting to wake Toby. She stopped suddenly as the wood floor creaked under her step. Her breath caught in her chest, not daring to move. As she stood in the quiet, innocent stillness of Toby's nursery, Sarah watched his little chest rise up and down as he slept. In this moment, she thought, he wasn't so bad after all. But moments are so fleeting, and one moments bliss can easily turn into another moment's hate. Tucked neatly beneath the covers beside Toby was Lancelot, Sarah's most treasured stuffed bear.
"Give me back my bear!" she screamed, snatching the bear from Toby's cradle, her eyes clouding up. She did not take the bear especially violently, but roughly enough to uncover Toby and send him screaming. Sarah ran to her room, flopping down on her bed as tears streamed down her flushed face. Holding Lancelot tightly to her chest, she tried to block out the crying coming from the other room, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. Merlin, who had been lying on the floor, stood up and licked Sarah's face with his warm tongue.
"It's not fair, Merlin." Sarah half-whispered, her voice quivering.
Another burst of screams came from Toby's room. Now the look on Sarah's face turned from a look of sadness and self-pity to anger. Rising from her bed, she threw Lancelot across the room and stomped into Toby's nursery.
Many times in the past had Sarah been furiously mad at Toby, or, rather, jealous of the reverent attention he received from her parents. Many times had her inspired imagination concocted horrible scenarios in which Toby was at peril. But never had she said these things out loud, for an unspoken fear that they might come true. Now, Sarah could not help but release her mounting tension.
"Would you like to hear a story about what happens to little babies like you, Toby?" Toby's howls faded to loud whimpers.
"Alright then. Once there was a little baby boy... a spoiled little boy. His parents loved him so, and paid no attention to their daughter." Her voice became theatrical and once again, the actress had taken over.
"The girl hated the little boy because he was so perfect in his parent's eyes, while her parents saw her as worthless. But what none of them knew was that the girl had a dark secret. The goblin King had given her the ability to summon his henchmen to take the little boy away into the Goblin City whenever she wanted... All she had to do..." Sarah's voice trailed off, as she began to view her situation from another perspective. Her dramatic speech began to seem pretty ridiculous now. But even so, she wished with all her being that what she'd said were true. Looking down at Merlin, who stood by her side, his big eyes looking questioningly up at her, she whispered what was needed to let the Labyrinth loose. "I wish goblins would take him away."
Toby's soft whimpering was the only sound in the room when the chiming sound of the doorbell echoed through the house. Sarah looked over at Toby, who had inexplicably stopped crying, his eyes wide with panic. Because it had been light outside when her parents left, there were no lights on in the house, and now the house was eerily dark. A heavy sensation grew in the pit of her stomach as she suddenly became aware that she was all alone. She tiptoed down the stairs and came to the front door. Looking through the peep hole, she could see the moonlit silhouette of a tall, angular figure. At first, she could not tell whether it was a man or a woman, but at more careful inspection, its face revealed that it was indeed a man. He wore a royal blue velvet jacket with tails, a white shirt with frills on the cuffs underneath, and black slacks and glistening, pointy patent leather shoes. He had a strange, worldly, or rather, other worldly air about him, his clothes immaculately crisp, his age undeterminable. Sarah found something about him terribly captivating, though she couldn't pinpoint what it was. Cautiously, she cracked open the door, keeping the bolted lock in place. Tension rushed into the quiet air like a flood. Sarah's heart began pounding violently, and she desperately hoped that the man wouldn't notice the anxiety plainly written across her face. The man smiled and spoke.
"Excuse me, is this the home of Miss Sarah Williams?" he asked in a rich British accent.
"Yes... may I as who wants to know?" Sarah asked.
"Charles Augins." The man replied, bowing slightly at the waist.
Charles Augins; a name Sarah had heard countless times before, the most notable occasion being when she first read its inscription on the cover of her favorite play. Her face lit up in star-struck ecstasy. She was standing inches away from her favorite playwright.
"You wrote Labyrinth!" she said, simultaneously opening the door as far as the lock would permit.
"Yes Ma'am, I did." Charles answered, chuckling slightly.
"Just a second." Sarah said, reaching for the lock. But as she did so, her hand hovered over it as her mothers last words echoed in her mind like a nagging conscience. Don't open the door to any strangers. Sarah quickly dismissed the voice and opened the door. Charles entered and extended an elegantly gloved hand.
"It is an honor, Miss Williams." Sarah, expecting to shake his hand, placed her delicate hand in his, and in one graceful, swift movement Charles bent over and politely kissed it. Sarah's head was reeling. She stood in silence for a moment, not knowing or for that matter really caring what she should say next. Had she been at all nervous about what to say, she would have been relieved, because Charles abruptly interrupted the silence.
"I understand that you make a wonderful Augustine." he said, his smile broadening.
"Well, we've just started rehearsing... but how did you know?"
"I was passing through this part of the country when I heard that the first amateur production of it was going to be put on here. I was looking forward to attending it's opening, but was given a wonderful preview of it as I walked by your house earlier this evening."
"You know we were supposed to open tonight, but we got delayed... the firemen had to use the hall."
Sarah voice was less tensed now, her suspicions having all but vanished.
"Yes, so I heard. That's why I've come to see you."
A thunderous crash came from upstairs followed by the shrill sound of a baby's cry. Sarah startled, while Charles didn't even flinch, a rather fiendish smile spreading across his face. A strange mix of annoyance and worry crowded Sarah's thoughts at the prospect of having to leave Charles standing alone downstairs while she investigated the sound that she feared had emanated from Toby's nursery. For one magical moment, Sarah had completely forgotten her problems, and now the fragile illusion had been shattered.
Sarah rolled her eyes. "That's my brother... I'm so sorry, Mr. Augins, I'll be right back!"
She galloped up the stairs and into Toby's nursery and found the large window by his crib blown wide open by the storms furious wind. Toby was standing up in his crib screaming with fright, tears streaming down his red face.
"Oh, Toby." Sarah said, picking him up and bouncing him on her hip to quiet him while she closed the window. "Shhh... it's ok." As she did so, she thought about Charles. How privileged she was to meet him! She smiled at the thought of recalling his visit to her comrades in the theater troupe, and began to imagine what approach she would use when doing so. "You won't believe what happened last night..." she said quietly to herself. "Guess who paid me a visit last night..." In her mind she then ran over what had happened thus far, making sure not to leave out any details... his shiny shoes, his ruffled sleeves, his deep, velvety smooth voice. Wait. Sarah stood completely still. She came to a spine chilling realization.
"Perhaps I can soothe him." Sarah gasped and whirled around to see Charles leaning against the door frame with a glass of brandy in his hand. He began walking towards Sarah with a cooked smile on his face, in a manner of nonchalance that made Sarah nervous.
"Oh, no really, it's alright." Sarah said, her eyes darting about the room, not wanting to meet Charles'.
"No, Sarah. It isn't alright. Look! Toby's crying." Now Charles was standing right in front of her, looking down at her with eyes so intense that Sarah could feel their intensity even though she wasn't looking at them. Sarah stepped back, hoping to elude his commanding presence. Charles reached out to grab Toby from Sarah's arms, and Sarah could not bring herself to resist. Charles walked towards the door carrying Toby, gently bouncing him as he balanced his half-empty glass in one hand. He began to hum a song, one that Sarah recognized but couldn't remember where she'd heard before. Then, softly, he began singing. All the room appeared to be listening, for all was quiet, including Toby, who stared at Charles' face.
I saw my baby trying hard as he could try
What could I do?
My baby's love had gone
And left my baby blue
I asked myself what could I do for he?
He looks so sad because of she
What kind of spell to use?
Slimy snails and puppy dog tails
To make a magic brew
Sarah stood motionless; entranced by this strange man's hauntingly beautiful voice. Charles stopped singing and smiled a warm, tooth bearing smile at the silenced babe in his arms. Suddenly, Sarah was impressed with the foreboding, gut wrenching feeling that something was terribly wrong. Perhaps Toby too sensed the danger, because he erupted into another fit of tears.
"I don't think you should be up here." Sarah said, her eyes meeting Charles'.
"I only want to help." Charles said, raising his eyebrows in mock concern. Sarah took Toby from Charles and placed him in his crib.
"Please leave... I'm going to get it trouble. I don't care to talk about the play." Sarah said, tucking Toby in and needlessly rearranging the stuffed animals in his crib.
"Neither do I."
Sarah turned around, her eyes wide, mouth agape, shoulders raised with tension.
"What?" she said, hoping her ears had deceived her.
"I don't care to talk about the play either, Sarah." Charles said, setting his glass down carefully on a nightstand and then standing with his hands clasped behind his back, smiling with a furrowed brow all the while. "You aren't the girl I thought you were, Sarah... A genius actress. I can't have this conversation with an ordinary girl who takes care of a mulling infant."
Sarah's shoulders dropped as she bit her bottom lip and stared at the shiny wood floor. What Charles said struck a meaningful chord.
"Goodbye, Miss Williams." Charles said, shaking her lifeless hand. He briskly left the room, the stairs creaking as he descended them.
"Wait!" Sarah yelled, running to catch Charles before he reached the door. She stopped at the top of the stairs and looked over the railing, her hair hanging on either side of her face. "Please, Mr. Augins."
Charles looked up, his hand resting tentatively on the door handle.
"Things aren't always as they seem." Sarah said.
"My point exactly, Miss Williams!" Charles replied, laughing as he spoke.
"No, it's my point, Sir!" she stood silent for a moment, a thousand thoughts running through her mind at once.
"Who are you really?" she asked. She could feel the color draining from her face, surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth. The mysterious stranger walked slowly away from the door, and for what felt to Sarah like an eternity, the room was silent. "For goodness sake, Sarah! What is it that you'd like me to be?" he asked, raising his arms and shrugging his shoulders in frustration. "Goodbye." Then he opened the front door and walked out into the dark, drizzly night, not looking back even once.
