Wishful Thinking

The Time of Her Life

Stephanie was on the ground, in her own clothes, and soaking wet again. She lay there, doing a quick assessment for possible damage, and decided she was fine. She pushed herself up into a sitting position. "What the—?" She looked around her. What she saw was an utterly desolate landscape, a desert whose only features were heaps and scraps of junk. "Where am I?"

"This way, sir Ludo!" Sir Didymus said, leading the way. Stephanie saw that he was the small dog riding a bigger dog that she had seen through the portal. The big, rusty-red haired creature was with him, too.

"Are you looking for Sarah?" Stephanie asked them, standing up so they could see her better amidst all the trash. They turned and looked at her.

"And who might thou be?" Sir Didymus asked. "How is it thou knowst of our fair maiden?"

"I'm her sister," Stephanie said. "I've been looking for her."

"Sarah—sister?" Ludo asked.

Stephanie nodded. "Yes. We were split up from each other."

Sir Didymus gasped when he noticed the blade in her hand. "And that sword in thy hand? How didst thou come by it?"

Stephanie realized she was still holding the dragon-slaying sword. "I pulled it from a stone."

"Oh! Thou must possess a noble heart indeed if thou was able to perform such a feat!" Sir Didymus praised her, deeply impressed. He looked at the sweet maiden before him in a new light. Despite being a lady, she had the makings of a knight. "But what might a lady such as thyself need with such a blade? It is for slaying dragons."

"I fought a dragon," Stephanie answered with a shrug.

"A drag—! Dost thou speak truly?"

"I do. It ended in a draw, though," Stephanie admitted.

"How splendid! I should like to face the beast as well!" Sir Didymus said, looking around. "Where is it?"

"I'll tell you if you help me find Sarah," Stephanie said.

"Find—Sarah!" Ludo agreed.

"Of course, my lady!" Sir Didymus said. "We are on a quest with thy fair sister. We must find her in order to continue."

Sarah woke up in nowhere. She opened her eyes and above her saw a somber sky, but the bare ground beside her was harshly lit, like the pictures she had seen of the moon. Perhaps she was on the moon, for all she knew.

She had been at a ball, that much she could remember. Where it was, and how she had gotten there, and why—nothing came back to her; just the ball. She closed her eyes at the memory of Jareth, hot with shame at how she had succumbed to his charm. She felt soiled by what had ensued in the ballroom. Somehow, it had all been her fault. Those men who pawed at her, Jareth trying so rudely to force a kiss upon her—had she been truly innocent, they would not have behaved like that toward her, would they?

If Stephanie were with her, she would have gladly told her it was all nonsense, that none of it had been her fault; it was a nightmare conjured up by Jareth, and the dancers had pawed at her too. But Stephanie was not there and had no idea her sister was thinking such things.

"What was I doing?" Sarah asked aloud. She sat up and looked about her. She saw the same junk desert as Stephanie. They had both landed in different parts of the same territory. Sarah's face was blank with despair. There was nothing to do here, nothing. No one in sight. It was a place where you would soon forget your own name.

With an effort, she stood up. The first step she took landed on a small pile of rags. The rags moved, suddenly, beneath her foot. She jumped back.