The Meadow
Back in high school, me and a group of friends use to write stories during class while we were bored. I figure this was the time in my life where I wrote mostly for my own enjoyment, since I filled up countless notebooks. Anyway, this is the prologue of the first of those stories I wrote. It was revised once or twice for a Creative Writing class and I haven't touched it since.


Emmy couldn't stand to be in any one place in all of the land of Setin for too long. They were so noisy and busy... but the meadow, the meadow was a different thing. It was said that the gods in the world of Setin had blessed the land with inspiration and thought for people. Many said the old legend believed them to have gotten this from a rainbow. All the colors of it traveled across the world and lit up all life, giving things breath and growth. Emmy knew that this place was at the end of the rainbow. Emmy could see all the colors of the silk flowers gathering in one beautiful void. They made her dream of wonderful things and daydreaming became frequent, especially daydreaming of her best friend Jareth. She spent most of her time in the meadow watering the flowers if they were in a drought, waiting for Jareth to come along after he got done sword fighting with his Uncle Richard. She picked the flowers and examined them, constantly dreaming of Jareth all day long. The scent of the flowers, that sweet smell of apple pie, made her mind dream.

We are such good friends and maybe we are in love, Emmy would think to herself.

She thought about that and many other things while waiting for him. They would always meet at the meadow. She knew there was something strong between them. Something magical. Even though she was only 12 years of age and he was 14, she still new she loved him very much. He was her best friend of all time.

She sat there as a sudden cold wind picked up and blew by her, wrapping around her like a vine tickling at her skin. She wondered what winds came by rushing so suddenly. She picked out a lockar flower, which was a beautiful flower with large, red petals. She placed it in her hair.

"Emmy..." a low voice whispered into her ear.

She jumped when she felt a hand touch her. She turned, quickly looking back. She sighed in relief after her moment of fear. It was Jareth. He had finally come. A smile formed on her small lips.

"Jareth, the lockars are blooming," she giggled.

"I know," he smiled pointing to her light, brown hair. "I see one in an ocean of gold."

She smiled at him, letting the sparkles in her brown eyes do all the talking and thanking. She loved the way he respected her so much. She watched him intently as he sat down next to her, and picked up any random flower he could find. He twirled it around in front of his face, almost inspecting it. He had never seen it before. It was white with oily petals.

"Hey let me see that one," Emmy said. "I've never seen that before around here."

She reached for it, but Jareth teasingly pulled it away. He smirked at her. It was one of those evil, boyish smiles where you know they are up to something.

"Oh, I don't think I can do that. Nope. No way."

"Silly boy, give it here," she said, placing her hand out.

"Should I make you beg?" he asked teasingly.

"You already are," she whined.

"I guess you could have it."

"Really??"

"Yes, but only for a kiss," he answered.

Emmy stopped all movement for a moment. She couldn't believe what he was asking her. He wanted a kiss from her? She had never thought he would, although she had always wanted to do so.

"Emmy? Hello? Any one home in there?" he asked with a laugh waving his hand in front of the blank look on her face.

"Huh? What?" she asked looking up suddenly.

"Never mind, here you can have the flowe-"

He was cut off when she reached over and gave him a small, shy kiss on the lips. Jareth blinked, hardly expecting her to do that.

"Is this what you do to steal a kiss?" she asked taking the flower from his hand.

"Uh..well..." he started trailing off. "So Emmy, tell me a story about this flower. Surely you know the name."

She looked at it carefully as if trying to remember the name of it.

"Oily petals... white... oh yes! It's a carcke... Ok carcke," she said with a frown.

"Why the face?" he asked.

"A Carcke means that bad things will come soon," she softly said.

"Do you really believe that?" he asked, his voice a partial whisper.

She tried to convince herself otherwise, to say "no", but she new the horrible truth. She could only answer "yes".

"Yes, Jareth. I believe it."

"It's just a flower," he shrugged.

"But it has so much meaning behind it. If only you knew the half of it..." she said quietly.

"Then tell me...what makes you so scared," he replied.

There became an uneasy silence between the two young ones. Jareth knew there was something bothering Emmy and he wanted to know, but he didn't know how to ask.

"Hold my hand," she whispered quietly, "and close your eyes."

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"Just please, do this before it's too late," she replied.

Jareth did what she asked and waited for a while.

"It's almost here," she said.

"What Emmy? What?"

"It's coming."

"Tell me."

"I can only show you. Please be patient."

"Then I must open my eyes to see..."

"Keep them closed. You'll see with your mind and heart if you believe in me. Do you trust me?"

"Yes, of course," he replied. "I always have."

He waited as the silence between them grew cold and uncomfortable. Everything seemed so dark...Suddenly, he saw something; a vision. It was so scary and real. What he saw was Decima, the king's daughter, in his village. She ordered the village to stop worshiping their gods or die. Those who believed in gods, would be crucified. The only gods allowed to be worshiped were the king and his daughter.

The villagers revolted. Slowly, one by one they were crucified, each dying violently on a cross. As one of the villagers was lifted up, he saw her struggle, he saw her light brown hair, and just as she was going to say something to him... the vison ended.

He opened his eyes and saw Emmy sitting there, tears running down her porcelain face. He sat for a moment trying to think about what he had just seen.

"Emmy," he began.

"Say you'll protect me," she cut in quickly as she opened her eyes and showed him the worried look coming from them.

"You can't really believe this will happen. You aren't really thinking that girl was you, are you? I won't let anyone hurt you, Emmy! It won't happen!"

"My dreams come true all the time. It will happen. I dreamed of you, and met I you. I dreamed of flowers growing and they did. I dreamed of so many things and they all happened. It's going to happen. It will." she explained.

They both sat in another silence, scared. Never in their young lives had something scared them so badly. They let the cool winds blow by, almost as if they were telling them to beware. Emmy had these visions all her life about the future. For some reason, even though she knew bad things were going to happen, the fact that she had asked Jareth to protect her made her feel at ease. She knew he was a real friend.

"Hey let's go to your house. It's getting cold out. We can play some cards," he suggested.

"No, I'll make some tea," she said blankly. "We should talk."

"Okay..." he replied.

They walked quietly in silence back to the village Tane where they lived. It was a small village with a group of peaceful people who believed that good things can come from the inspiration of the gods. They took this inspiration and made the village well enough for them to live in happiness. Small house surrounded the village circle. They were made out of strong oak wood from the nearby forest and thatched with hay so well that the rain kept out. Most villages in the world had lots of vendors outside selling things, like fruits, berries, and vegetables, but Tane was much more smaller. It only had one vendor selling things. A stout old woman who was friendly to all. She sold fresh and exotic fruits. Jareth remembered the time Emmy had given her some flowers. She seemed so happy and she told them that Emmy reminded her of her daughter. After that she always hung Emmy's flowers outside her stand.

Jareth hardly noticed that they had approached Emmy's's house. She opened the oak door and led him inside her small kitchen. There was a small well inside the house with a spout for pouring water and a fireplace made of stone. Emmy went and put some water in the pot and started the fire. She seemed so mechanical, like what she did was a routine, but he knew she was just bothered. She reached up into one of the cabinets and took out two small porcelain cups.

"Are you okay, Emmy?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, " she said quietly.

She prepared two cups of warm lilac tea while trying to shut out her horrible dream, but it wasn't working. It kept on coming back, reminding her that she was going to die. She couldn't see Jareth anywhere in the horrible vision. Where was he? She couldn't stop this, but she could ease the pain. She took a small bottle off the shelf and uncorked it, putting a couple drops of the elixir into her tea. The elixir would cause her to feel no pain, if she did indeed get hurt. She took a spoon and stirred it well, questioning her gods one last time.

She took the tea to the table and sat down next to Jareth. She gently passed him his cup and drank hers quickly, knowing time was running out. Jareth watched her curiously.

"Thirsty?" he asked with a half grin.

"Yes," she answered.

He took a bit of his tea and drank quietly. He burned his tongue. How could Emmy drink so fast and he could not? He watched her finish her cup quietly.

"What's wrong, Emmy? I know there is something wrong."

"Well I just can't-," she began but was cut off by a voice outside the house. She got up quickly and looked out the window. "Jareth, come here."

He hesitantly walked to the window and looked out, his eyes opening wide with what he saw. He saw Decima and her soldiers speaking to the villagers.

"Emmy...umm," he began. "Soldiers? Decima? What's going on?"

"I told you what was going to happen...All god worshiping has ended as of now..." Emmy spoke clearly, her last statement matching the movement of Decima's lips.

"That girl couldn't be you though! Emmy! We'll always be togther!" he said, making up excuses.

"Look. The villagers are revolting," she said pointing at the window, not paying attention to him.

"I won't let them take you away," he said sadly.

She continued to stare out the window, feeling so far away and alone. He couldn't even touch her. He couldn't speak. His eyes suddenly watered with tears, her hands clenching in little fists. He looked out the window to see what she was seeing.

"What are you looking at?" he asked concerned.

"They... they... they're hurting the old lady! The one who sells things!" Emmy cried out. "I have to help her!"

She fled out of her house quickly, Jareth missing the chance to grab her. She was out of his sight and into the battle. Jareth looked out the window moving the blue, cotton curtain aside. He looked in the direction of the fruit stand, but the only thing he saw was the flowers fall from where they had been hung. He felt his heart drop to his feet. This was all wrong, terribly wrong.

"Emmy!" he yelled.

He ran out after her, quickly looking through the people who were fighting. He drew his small sword and fought through the soldiers as well as he could, looking all the while for Emmy. He kept yelling her name, but he couldn't find her anywhere. He couldn't see her and he was getting scared.

He turned around sharply when he heard a high pitched scream. He knew that scream. He winced and looked up. The dust cleared for a second, giving him sight for a moment. While he was determined to look, he wished he hadn't. He had found her, hanging from a cross, being crucified for her rebellion. She had her eyes closed, and a small dagger was lodged in her heart.

"EMMY!" he yelled dropping to his knees.

He couldn't believe it. He didn't even hear the people. It was so quiet, as if he had died himself, but he was far from that. The winds blew by and he looked down at the ground. The flowers that had been hanging rolled by in the wind, separated from their stems, their white color now soiled by blood and dirt. He held his head in his hands. He cried and his sobs were louder than the screams of others in death.