Disclaimer: All references to the characters Jareth , Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film Labyrinth belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.
Life's Little Lessons: Chapter 2
Together they walked hand in hand in companionable silence underneath the afternoon sun of early autumn. Fifteen year old Charlotte turned her face to its warm rays dappling through the still green trees overhead. Thomas let go of her hand, and she didn't say anything about it. She had learned it was better to keep mum about Thomas's need to hold her hand. As they walked by house after house, Thomas found a stick and swatted at the overgrown weeds in Mr. McGregor's lawn. He abandoned it after a block as Charlotte turned and led the way to the shortcut through the old park. He liked the park; it had a certain… magical quality to it. Even with half of the park gone and in development for more businesses, the abandoned park was special to him.
Thomas found his steps slowing as they crossed the tiny, creaky foot bridge. Wood slats had started to crumble and decay. He had to step over a missing slat, but before he did, he paused to stare downward. The creek bubbled merrily underfoot, unchanged and still flowing in spite of all the other changes to the park. Thomas stepped over the slat and walked off the foot bridge to walk through the overgrown grass field. In front of him, Charlotte continued to meander forward, intent on reaching home eventually. However, Thomas didn't want to leave. They passed the white gazebo with its odd light post beside the creek, and Thomas paused to stare it.
White lattice broken from animals pushing their way underneath was barely covered by the overgrown bushes. Flaking paint curled in strips on its exterior; in some places, small pieces had floated to rest on the ground to create a broken ring of white. A few boards on the floor were warped, and bird droppings from numerous nesting birds had added to its disrepair. At some point, a hole had formed in the roof, and the damage caused by a few seasons of harsh East Coast weather had been done. The white gazebo looked old to him, and he wondered if it had always looked so run down and broken.
Beside him, the odd little lamp post had suffered similar losses. A pane of glass revealed the missing bulb and degrading socket. Another spidery crack had formed on another pane. It, too, had not been repainted in ages. Thomas wondered if any birds had tried making it their home this summer. Probably not since even he could easily reach to touch it. It wasn't at a safe height for birds. He crouched down to examine the bloom of reddish brown rust accumulating in a crescent moon shape on its pole. He tilted his head to examine it better. Also, because the lamp post no longer stood straight up but at an angle.
Then he found himself moving up the gazebo stairs to kneel on the warped bench facing the small creek. He heard Charlotte's footsteps as she ascended and crossed the gazebo floor to stand beside him. They both stared at the water and the cattails on its bank gently swaying in soft puff of wind. They tried to ignore the devastation a yard or so away on the other side of the creek.
For as long as they both could remember, the creek had always wound its way through the lush park of overgrown grass. Yet Charlotte remembered a better park from her childhood, one that hadn't shrunk in size. Thomas only knew the smaller, abandoned park, and it made her a little sad and nostalgic. Ten years ago, the city's park district had given up on caring for the park. First, they made a new community center (with a view of the creek and gazebo). There were talks of making a trail through the park about five years ago, but it had yet to be done. Around the same time, the city sold the other half of the park for development due to lack of city maintenance funds. Or that's what Charlotte had heard from her parents. The neighborhood had put up a fuss, but nothing came of it.
She turned to look at what remained of the stand of massive evergreens on the east side of the park – a line of massive tree stumps. Charlotte's heart twisted remembering the majestic sentinels. A few had volunteer saplings rising from the living remains of organic matter, but she knew its futile. They would never be allowed to grow to such heights again. Instead, a line of sickly honeysuckle saplings had been planted in a vain attempt to hide the back alley of the strip mall going in where the rest of the park used to be. Only this small acre with the gazebo, lamp post, and the west line of conifers remained of the once beautiful park. Through it all, the creek continued its meandering path from pastoral to urban. Charlotte knew it was only a matter of time before even the creek would cease to be beautiful and clean. Her young heart twisted again at the sense of change and loss.
"Charlie? What's wrong?" Thomas asked quietly. Charlotte dropped her gaze to see he had to turned to look at her. She sighed.
"You probably don't remember the evergreens," she began.
"Yeah, I do," he stated with a huff. "I'm not that much younger than you."
"Whatever, kid. You're still little Tom Thumb to me," she teased and ruffled his hair.
"Don't DO that!" he protested. In a flash, he had smacked her hand away, covered his head, and jumped off the bench to stand in the middle of the gazebo. Charlotte grinned.
"Do what?" she said innocently. "You mean this?" She lunged and tickled his sides. Thomas glared and pushed her away again. "I think I saw a smile there…"
"I don't want to play your stupid games," he retorted and stamped his foot like a toddler. Charlotte paused and put her hands on her hips.
"Yes you do."
"No, I don't."
"Yes you do."
"NO, I DON'T!"
"Yes, you do." She grinned in triumph. Then she walked past him and skipped down the stairs… but not before ruffling his hair again in passing.
"I said don't do that!"
"Do what?" she teased again. Charlotte grinned. It was almost too easy to provoke him. She dropped her bag by the defunct lamp post. "And what are you going to do about it? You can't stop me."
Thomas easily jumped the stairs and landed where Charlotte once stood. She was already moving away from him. He shrugged off his backpack and came at her in a hot fuss.
"Too slow!" she laughed and dodged his fist as it came out swinging. "Too slow, again!
"Am not! Stop teasing me like I'm some kid! I hate you!" Lunging, he caught her off guard. She fell backward and all of the air went out of her in a whoosh.
"That's what you get!" he shouted jumping up and taking off running for the other end of the park. Charlotte lay there in the overgrown grass and stared at the clouds creeping across the azure sky. Teasing Thomas hadn't worked today. He was angrier than usual. Had something happened at school? Were the other kids teasing him? She remembered her own grade school years, and Charlotte cringed mentally. She shouldn't be so concerned, but she cared about her only cousin like he was her little brother. He had become so angry, sullen even. He had always been a little spoiled, and a tad demanding, not outright manipulative but in a subtle way. He had changed in the past six months, and maybe that is what made her tease him so much.
She heard the rustling of long grasses and his soft footsteps approaching. Eventually he stopped and his face came into view – a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, a face still soft with baby fat, a mop of strawberry blond hair, and pale blue eyes that seemed almost clear. He would be cute if not handsome like his Dad when he grew up, she thought mildly. His young, smooth brow furrowed with worry and concern.
"Ch-charlie?" he stammered quietly. "I-I d-didn't mean… Are you okay?"
Charlotte pondered his shift in mood, and then she sighed. Thomas only stammered when he was flustered and remorseful. She knew he hadn't meant what he said; it hurt, but that didn't make it hurt any less. A thought took her while Thomas stared at her more intently. She ran a hand over her face to conceal her mischievous grin.
"I am… but you won't be," she replied cryptically. Then she was sitting up and tickling him. The young boy protested, but eventually giggles mixed with laughing protests rang out into the air. Happy tears pricked his eyes even though he tried to keep his stubborn face in place. She gave him a fierce hug before releasing him after the tickle attack had ended and his laughter ebbed.
"We should go," she stated rising to her feet and offering him a hand up. She brushed off her jeans and then turned to pick up their school bags. Together they continued onward, kicking up bugs and grass pollen as they walked towards home.
Unbeknownst to the pair, a barn owl resting atop the gazebo took flight. Yet this was no ordinary barn owl. It had thoughts and feelings and an immense well of magic at its disposal. Riding the thermals created by the heat of the late summer sun, the owl that wasn't an owl pondered what it had seen. Something had drawn him Above Ground to view this scene; something was on the horizon that hadn't happened in several years.
When the girl had fallen and the boy had run off, he hadn't been surprised at the animosity the boy exhibited to her. What did surprise him was the boy – how he had turned, his shoulders drooping. The look on his young face – the guilt, the remorse, and underneath it all, fear – at realizing she wasn't moving, that she wasn't rising to follow him to stop him, that his actions hadn't gained him the attention the boy obviously craved. All of the stubbornness left the young boy as he hurried back to her side.
Why would this boy, who obviously cared for this older girl, wish her away? He sighed mentally. He knew why. All of the well-wishers were spoiled, ungrateful creatures. This boy was no different. He's not too young to learn from his mistakes… but he will never survive the Labyrinth, the owl that wasn't an owl thought to himself. Do I dare to intervene on his behalf? The question galled him as he vanished from mortal sight.