Labyrinth Pt. II

1. Memories

I throw down my bag and folders. I'm exhausted! It was a long and good rehearsal with the kids at the school. I'm happy I chose to teach and help the kids but my goodness it's tiring! Since my graduating school I've starred in 3 plays. I was so happy when my old school asked me to help with their production of The Labyrinth. That story always had a special place in my heart. I used to say that I had been there and that I met the Goblin King and saved my step-brother, Toby, from his clutches. My parents would say I was crazy and told me it was just a dream but when I became adamant about my trip there, they had me see a few psychiatrists. Granted I've always been a lucid dreamer, but that was to real to be a dream. There was a small part of me, my dreamer side, that always believed it was real. Sometimes little sounds and moved objects make me think that a goblin did it. Silly, I know but helping make the school play started making those old memories resurface. All these memories started 8 years ago and they haven't gone away like most dreams do.

I roll over on to my back and let out a sigh. My life could never be that exciting anyway. I laugh at myself and get up and start to gather my things so I can shower.

The hot water relaxes my muscles and calms my thoughts. I never realized directors go through so much during production. After about an hour of just standing under the scolding stream of water, I turn it off and step out of the shower. I forgot to turn the vent on so everything looks foggy. Grabbing my towel I wipe the mirror. Two dark eyes stare back at me. I scream and jump back against the wall. Blinking, I now stare at a reflection of myself. I must be more tired than I first believed. Shaking just a tad, I finish getting dressed for bed.

Exiting the bathroom I venture in to the kitchen for lemonade and a snack. Soft, melodic humming is coming from my room. I set my lemonade and crackers down by the sofa. Slowly, I make my way to the bedroom, picking up a pair of scissors from my desk along the way. I gently turn the door knob and the humming gets louder, then suddenly stops.

"Why are you sneaking around in your own home?" A deep sounding voice calls to me. "Greeting a guest with a weapon in hand is not very polite. I'm disappointed, Sarah. Didn't you miss me?" I step in to the room and can now see him clearly. He stood there dramatically draped in a white linen shirt covered with a purple vest and donned a pair of black leather trousers and black knee high leather boots.

"You- you don't exists." If I was shaking before, I must be trembling now. He leans closer with arrogant smirk and a playful gleam in his eye.

"Trust me, my dear, I exist."

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