Disclaimer: No, I don't own Labyrinth or its characters, and I do not have any wish to steal or re-write the story. In this piece of fan fiction, I also include excerpts and quotes from several famous works. I do not claim to own or have created these either. They are properly attributed to their creators. So, I am now blameless of the travesty of plagiarism .

"… the feeling of being something rootless and ephemeral, mere spindrift of the whirling surface of existence, without anything to which the poor little tentacles of self could cling before the awful flood submerged them. And as she looked back she saw that there had never been a time when she had had any relation to life." - Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth

Her memories seemed a dream to her now, a dream in which she had fled the monotony of life and truly lived as she desired. She had been calloused then, acting as if she was the focal point of everything, ungrateful for the many gifts she had been given or offered.

Staring pensively at her old room with its toys and fairy tale décor, she knew that it had escaped her, or rather, that she had thrown it away with the trash; she had discarded her dreams, she had denounced all that she had once envied, and she had acted as a spoiled child when she had envisioned herself the heroine of the story. For any who had the skill to observe it, her deep brown eyes exhibited the remorse and alienation that had besieged her life since that day long ago, that torturous, awe-inspiring thirteen hour period.

Slowly surveying her room was like staring into a mirror as her recollections flowed swiftly past submerging and drowning her. However, the torrent of memories, no matter how suffocating, would not allow her to abandon them once more, mesmerizing her into a sadistic trance. Since that day, she had not been capable of dreaming, and she was unable to relinquish those thoughts, good or bad as they rushed over her. Her eyes alighted upon a small figurine that stood among the other treasures of her past; it was a miniature goblin. When she was younger, the ceramic person had been nameless, a stranger who's appearance suited her whimsical ideals, but years ago she had found its name in the pages of a red, leather-bound play and still later she had been able to bind it to its name having encountered it in a dream that wasn't a dream. Hoggle. His large protruding nose and characteristically dwarfish proportions smiled down through her memories; his huge eyes betraying his goodness in spite of his attempted malevolence toward her as he gave her a beautiful, ripe peach. His nervous anxiety as he gave her the contaminated fruit was always an endearing memory in her mind. Yet, she had given him up and passed into a different life ignorant that she had left her dreams, aspirations and heart with him and his world. Many other things graced her walls and shelves untouched, dusty with the passage of time. As she finished her examination of her room, she wished that it was the merely the passage of time that had hidden her dreams from her and not herself.

Hidden among the dim shadows of the corner of her shelf, stood another figure, a handsomer one. One who's figure was at times androgynous due to his feminine attire and elfish features. If the figurine had been and exact replica of its model, she would have stared at it forever, incapable of turning her deep sad eyes away. As it was, her pale eyelids, weighed down with her thick brown eyelashes, closed as their owner sank under the pressure of the engulfing memories. She shouldn't have returned, she should have selfishly refused to come back to this house…

"Sarah!" the high pitched voice of her now eight year old step-brother penetrated her room followed by his appearance, a skinny brown eyed boy named Toby. His voice lowered as he stood in her doorway. " You have to hurry. Mom said the ceremony is going to start soon."

Sarah noticed the small black suit that her little brother wore that was so unlike his usual dirty jeans and t-shirt. Right, the ceremony. It had fled the labyrinth of thoughts in her mind.

"I'll be there in a second," she felt herself distantly reply. Sarah dropped the suitcase she had held quickly as if it had burned her. Then, she bent down to open it and slowly search its contents for an appropriate dress. She found it; a simple black dress with little to no trimmings on it. Perfect for the event, not ostentatious in the least, it was the only thing she would consider wearing to her father's funeral.

It had happened suddenly. Her father had turned from a restaurant manager to a victim in less than five seconds when he was shot by a stray bullet. He had been a bystander as a fight unexpectedly broke out in the restaurant. It was an uncommon occurrence; the restaurant had been a high class place, unaccustomed to violence and displays of any sort. Sarah did not know how to handle this event; it seemed to be par for the course, considering her life so far. Slipping the dress over her pale skin, she dazedly reached behind her with elegant white hands and pulled the zipper up her back at an agonizingly slow pace until the dress was secured on her slender form. The one thing that Sarah had retained of her past appearance was her long silky locks, and now, she carefully released it from the collar of her dress and let it pour down her back. She had not worn her hair down since she was younger when she had romanticized about its princess-like quality imagining it was exactly like something out of her fairy tales. Sarah, still in her trancelike state as a result of her surroundings, slowly divided and weaved her locks into a simple braid deftly maneuvering the brown tresses. It gave Sarah a harsh, severe look and she was aware of it. Not only was it fitting for the event, but it was fitting to what Sarah had inflicted on herself. In her eyes, she had deserved the lonely years she had been subjected to and the boring apathy of a routine life, and if she had not deserved it, it was the inevitable consequence of her foolishness.

Sarah was prepared enough to face her family, and consequently, she turned and strode purposefully, harshly down the stairs in a perfect business-like manner. Her dreams and memories maintained no permanent residence in her mind having been released thoughtlessly long ago.

" So side by side they lie, and both are dead. Not in this world but in the world below he wins his bride, and shows to all mankind that folly is the worst of human evils."- The Messenger from Antigone by Sophocles

A/N: This is my first Labyrinth fic, and it might take a while for the chapters to be posted since they are concepts at the moment and because I am working on several other pieces right now. I intend for this story to be about six chapters long (It was originally a one-shot). I will be willing to except any kind of criticism or flames. I write for enjoyment, and I hope that others enjoy my writing as well, and I would appreciate any response to this piece, good or bad.

This post is an edit of my first version, and I apologize to any readers who were waiting for the second chapter. I originally posted this last September and have failed to update as I promised. I do, however, have an excuse. I got several viruses on my computer that wiped out all of my stories and chapters, and I had no other copies of them. I haven't had the time to rewrite anything yet, but I should have the next chapter out within a month. I have been busy with tests, papers, and projects, and I can't promise the next chapter any sooner.