This is something I decided to base on an idea that came to me one night when listening to the noises my house and thinking about Labyrinth.

Disclaimer: As much as I wish to Jareth for it I do not own Labyrinth or any of its characters.

I've always been a dreamer, forever in a fantasy world of incredible creatures and magic. I always dream that I too could be special and powerful, not necessarily with strange abilities but maybe with just an uncommon wit or a stubborn streak or incredible bravery. I wish for my own adventures and not just the ones I read about in books; one where I can prove my own worth and not feel like I am eventually going to lose my dreams.

I have many dreams. Dreams of my career, of my family, even of my death and I know that these will never likely come true and I'm not even sure I want some of them. But there is one dream I cling to more than any other.

My dream of Him.

Part of me secretly hopes that it is not a dream; that he is secretly there, always just out of sight, watching me – though there is no reason why he would, I have no real interest for him. I don't see him but I know what he looks like, I know him as surely as I know myself.

He is handsome and harsh, wonderful and terrible, kind and cruel, a paradox of wonder and fear. Sardonic and yet gentle, always what he wishes to be and never what anyone expects because he is unlike any being ever to exist.

I hear his song inside my head and wish it was something more, something that he is singing to me as he did in my dreams. A song of falling between the stars.

I hear him at night as I lay waiting for sleep. In the sound of the floorboards by my bed creaking, his breath in the sighing wind that comes with the night, his glove-covered hand the slight pressure on my back as I shift my covers and the light brushing itch on my shoulder. I mouth his name, pleading with him to stay, to be there when I at last open my tear-filled eyes.

I wait for a response that is either noiseless or never comes, holding my breath for some acknowledgement, some sign that he is there and I am not, once again, weaving my own fantasy.

I wait until the last possible moment when I am sure I cannot live if I do not take a breath and at last open my eyes, holding in the tears. Slowly I turn, to stare at the space behind me where my senses told me he was. Turning to the empty space.

The floorboards were just the creaking of a restless house. The sighing no more than the wind. And the gentle pressure, the comforting had on my back just the weight of my duvet as it falls back into place and the itch the slight rubbing of my shirt.

I make no noise, not now, not after this repeated ritual that I put myself through every night. I say he has no power in my life but he does. With every waking moment he does.

I turn back to where I was lying and, as I close my eyes, allow the silent tears to fall as I drift back into my dreams. Dreams where he is there and looking back at me with his eyes that I so wish to fall into and he is singing his song to me as we drift, dancing slowly, forever.

Not long at all.

Sorry it's not very long, will try to write longer ones in future.

Hope you enjoyed. Feel free to R&R xxx