Pristine Snow- A Laby short story

I started playing in the snow with my brother, Toby, once he was old enough to leave the raptor-gaze of my stepmother. Eager to escape, we'd run—laughing, hand in hand—over the bridge which used to transport me to imaginary realms of heroic princesses and villainous sorcerers. Now it conveys us to the mundane magic of battles, angels and men made of snow.

Sometimes it's just us; sometimes we join other kids Toby's age. But we always have fun. I love this new relationship with my brother, and every year I grow ever more aware of the gratitude I owe a certain adventure that changed many of my childish perceptions.

Ever more aware of the gratitude I owe a certain perplexing man…

I won't say I miss him, because that would be disingenuous. I hardly think of him most days, but occasionally something reminds me and my heart constricts with a fathomless ache. I know it's not romantic love. I don't know him well enough, nor have I ever had the chance.

Though, I suppose if I'd stopped to consider it during my run through his labyrinth, I might've mistaken my conflicted, teen emotions for the richer, deeper one I've since tasted, felt and lost. But it would've been a delusion of immaturity. Dating real boys throughout high school and college had finally swept away the cobwebs and drama from my youthful hormones. Growing up hadn't hurt either.

Many things in my life became clearer with the perspective of maturity gained…

To this day, my labyrinth friends refuse to speak of him, and I refuse to ask. I guess I'm afraid of the answer. What if he doesn't remember me? What if he does? Either reality brings uncertainties I'm loath to face. Maybe I will someday. Maybe I won't.

Maybe it doesn't matter, because I've learned what I needed from him, and the rest of my life spools out from my freewill separate from the Goblin King. But, in quiet moments of contemplation, I've admitted to myself that I miss the magic of his kingdom. It would be nice to feel it again, to know something ... more.

Maybe say thank you…

As much as I enjoy spending time with Toby, the main reason I love playing in my special park is it's the only time I experience the magic I once lived every day. To think I once immersed myself in dreams, yet now they're so far away. The world of adults is fraught with stress and pain and not nearly enough imagination and joy.

I miss the freedom of flying. Does he know it? Does he watch me like I suspect he did before? Does he care? Why should he?

I shouldn't wonder so many years later…

When we found it, the day was crisp and clear, and the morning's snow was fresh and slightly damp, crunching a bit under our boots. The kind excellent snowballs are made of and perfect for a weekend, sibling romp through the frigid dunes.

The weather report was, for once, spot on. I'd stayed overnight in my old room, rather than in my shoebox, duct-taped apartment, so Toby and I could be up and out before the rest of the neighborhood kids. Pristine snow is magical snow.

Everyone knows that…

We ran over the bridge, past the obelisk and to the edge of the forest. The stark limbs sparkled with diamond-iced branches, a fairy forest come to visit for the day. All manner of enchanted creatures lurked in the early morning mist, their luminous eyes blinking at me from around the hibernating trees. The wind creaked through the crystal forest, its limbs reaching for the azure sky. The buzz of old magic hummed on my skin, and my nose and lungs pleasantly burned as I inhaled deeply.

I smiled.

I loved this place best of all…

Kneeling with Toby, I helped him start a pile for the snowman. His coal eyes and carrot nose were tucked in my coat pockets. The cold seeped through my thick gloves and pants, reminding me of my childhood as we flicked wet powder at each other and giggled like deranged kindergarteners. Quite a lot was excavated; very little building was completed.

"Hey, Sarah!" Toby's head disappeared in a large dent in the drift as he dug with both hands, pushing snow back between his legs like a dog. "Look at this."

"What is it, Tobes?"

He held up the last thing I'd expected to ever see again…

"Where did you get that?" I asked. A silly question as he'd not left my sight.

"I found it buried in the snow. Weird, huh?"

Weird indeed. Between his mittened hands, Toby showed me a garnet and gold ring with a stunning owl feather slid through its band. The ring looked like the one my mother had given me the year before she left. The one I had worn continuously with the irrational hope that it would bring her back. The one I had given to the wise man for his advice years ago, finally removing it once I'd realized my mother was never returning.

My tongue sticking to my palate, I tried to swallow without any saliva and glanced at the forest a few yards distant.

The sensation of eyes fell heavily upon me…

"Pretty," Toby said, not noticing my discomfort, attention fully on his treasure.

"Yeah." I reached out with a trembling hand. "Can I see it?"

"Sure." Toby dropped the feather-adorned ring into my gloved palm.

Its nebulous weight felt like a gold bar, nearly breaking my bones. Carefully, I slid the ring from the center shaft of the feather in the direction of its bards, not wanting to disturb its soft beauty. It was an owl's primary feather—sturdy and gorgeous with alternating brown and cream bands. I knew because of the burring on its leading edge, a unique feature which gives owls their ability to fly silently.

"You can have the ring if you want," Toby said. "But I want the feather."

I smiled wanly at his young boy's version of generosity. If he only knew. "Thanks," I said, staring at the claret depths of the ring pinched between my fingers. I absentmindedly handed back the feather, which had been oddly dry after being buried beneath feet of damp snow.

"What's wrong, Sarah?"

"Oh, nothing … just…" I sighed. "This looks like a ring I thought was gone forever."

"You lost it?"

"Something like that."

He nodded and shrugged, head panning around, already bored. "Cool."

"Yeah, cool," I said. I knew, in my gut, if I checked the inside of the band, I'd find the inscription from my mother.

"Hey, Toby!" Some of the neighborhood kids had arrived. "We're gonna have a snowball fight, wanna play?"

"Sure! Sarah?" he asked softly. "You wanna play, too?"

"In a minute, Toby, you go on."

"Okay," he said and scampered off, while I stood, enthralled.

In the clarity of the winter sun, inside the bubble of my thundering ears, I flipped the ring and found the etched cursive, 'Happy Birthday, Love, Mom'. My eyes shut on stinging tears, and my fist caged the ring.

My ring…

After a few moments, I released my grip, slipped off a glove and tried it on. The band no longer fit the same finger, but it fit a smaller one. As I admired its glinting, serenity I'd never known before filled me. My watery eyes dried. I smiled again and gazed at the crystal forest, its frozen gemstone arms glittering in the pure light.

"Thank you, Jareth," I whispered before turning to join Toby. A gust of wind chimed the ice branches, creating mystical music and sending shivers down my back.

You're welcome, Sarah…

My steps faltered in the deep snow. I glanced around but saw nothing. "…just the wind…" I told myself and released a shaky laugh with a tentative upward twitching at one corner of my lips.

But I knew…

Of course I did…

Someday…

Somehow…

I would see him again.