The Sandman (Labyrinth)

Chapter 2

A month later was only two days before the performance. The faulty cast finally brought it all together nicely, but she made a mental note to herself to find a performance that wasn't quite so irritating next time. These small scale plays weren't getting her the media attention she wanted anyway. She loved big business and was still naive about fame.

It was a cold and blustery day with very light rainfall, a very soothing setting. She wore blue jeans, bundled up in a thick sweater and wrapped in a scarf. The cool breeze caressed her hair. It felt like fingers tugging lovingly at her curly tendrils. The chilly rain nipped at her nose that was turning red.

Her apartment was in an urban area closer to the city than home with her dad, but she often visited the grassy park she used to recite her favorite fantasy storybook at, Labyrinth. She still had the little red book somewhere at her apartment. Or maybe she gave it to Toby? She couldn't quite remember where she put it now, but one thing's for sure, and it was that she hadn't seen it since she left the labyrinth. It was as though she mentally separated herself from everything that was the labyrinth except her friends. Even then, she still didn't talk to them much after.

She crossed the bridge she used to stand on and toss stones into the calm water from and watch the rippling effect then spotted the very same bench that had been there probably longer than she had been alive. It was slightly more worn out than when she saw it last but decided it was stable after testing it by pressing her fingers firmly down on the wooden planks. She sat back in it carefully, feeling more nostalgic than usual.

The drizzling rain ceased and so did the breeze, leaving her in a cold humidity. Behind her, she heard the small sound of flapping wings and turned around to be startled by a pair of big, round eyes focused on her. "You're still here?" she asked the snowy barn owl. It blinked slowly at her, its pupils dilating to nearly fill its irises. Keeping her hands in her pockets, she stood up slowly and the bird did not flee. It looked so soft and warm, and she wanted to touch it. She approached slowly and the bird did nothing but coo at her. Standing less than a foot away beside it, she reached out her toasty hand and began to stroke its back with the knuckles of her fingers.

"Why are you so friendly?" she asked nicely, tilting her head with her hair falling to the side. The owl never flinched nor showed signs of discomfort with Sarah. It only bobbed its head when she touched the back of its neck. "And you're so soft," she pointed out.

Sarah never really made the connection between owls and that horrible man...The one in the castle beyond the Goblin City. The one she made effort to forget about and rid her mind of. She remembered that this owl (or one very similar to it) was outside her window and in her house that fateful night, but did she ever see what became of the bird? Not really. She racked her brain many, many times, but that was one thing she couldn't remember.

"Well, I should be on my way now," she told the owl. "It's getting late and I need to get up early to rehearse tomorrow!" It looked at her almost understandingly before it took off into the forest in a great flurry of white feathers. She watched it until it disappeared above the trees and she began her walk back to the apartment.

It wasn't until just after 9:00 that she opened the front door. She plopped back onto the couch, happy to be in the warm apartment again. The air was still and it was completely silent. Sarah was listening to her own thoughts, her eyes unfocused from reality and looking into her mental image. Soon, she was in a state of thoughtlessness again just as every other night when she became sleepy. She showered, put her dirty clothes in the laundry hamper, and went to sleep.

That night, her lucid dream began with her still at the park stroking the downy snow owl. However, it was pouring buckets of rain, down-pouring so much that she was soaked to the bone. She looked up, shielding her eyes from water with a hand to her forehead. She knew she was dreaming because she remembered going home. She knew every night that she was dreaming. She controlled her dreams with ease. This, however, was different and very uncomfortable. She couldn't stop the rain, nor did she will it to start. She turned away from the owl to look for shelter, trying to find some in her sweater by pulling it tightly around her.