The crystal Jareth gave to Ali is chiming softly but insistently, wherever she locked it away, a sound that rises gradually in volume to escape whatever contains it. The little gift is calling attention to itself, at the behest of its master.

Somewhere in the Labyrinth there walks a girl; courage and trepidation war in her heart, horror and awe are met in her countenance, and visions of David Bowie's tights-clad sugarplums dance in her head. So distracted is she, she practically trips her way through the gardens, and anyone who might be there.

In the aftermath of the dark tide, Jareth has much to do in order to set the labyrinth to rights. There were walls to raise, puzzles to plan, rooms to find where they had been shuffled away to nowhere. That said, even the master of the maze must rest from time to time, as he is doing now.

In the Nexus, a pair of smooth brass double doors surrounded by filigreed brass edgings, an ashtray, and a cloud anemone in a planter, chimes quietly before sliding open. Disgorged through the aperture are a slow wave of thick, fragrant red sludge, and a goblin king who is irritated and saturated both quite thoroughly. The doors soon close on the ( Read more... )

In his throne room, the goblin king gazed into a crystal perched on his fingertips, watching the doings of an intriguing young woman he'd recently met. Her day had taken her to a home populated with a gaggle of children, companions of more complex association than an afternoon's viewing would explain, and now, out to an evening of singing with the ( Read more... )

((The absence of any Cyrillic letters may imply that this is not the account of a Russian spammer. Drawing such a conclusion is fraught with considerably less peril than appending "I wish" with much of anything in His Nibs' royal hearing ( Read more... )