Translation of one of my texts. Enjoy and let me know if you liked it.

Chapter 1 The owl on the porch

There was an owl carved on the porch in front of Sarah's apartment. Every morning and every night she made sure it hadn't moved. Often she waked up started, her heart pounding. In those moments, it was hard to remember that she wasn't in the hall of her parents' house. She had to open the window to get rid of the ozone smell of that stormy night that lingered in her memory. Then, she curled up in her bed, a pillow on her head so as not to hear the flapping wings of the owl and the clock striking the twelve strokes.

Every time the morning after, she stayed a long time at the window, fixing the stone owl. Maybe one day she could decide if she was more relieved or disappointed to see it always in the same place. In any case, she would have liked to notice its presence before renting her student room.

Of course, it was quite possible that the owl only appeared after she signed the lease. That was the kind of thing he would do.

Sarah did not need to see the owl move to know she was being watched all the time. Sometimes she felt like a friendly presence not far from her. Those days, she wanted to laugh and sing. She was absolutely sure that it was her goblin friends who followed her, even now that she could no longer see them. Every evening she left a cup of milk for them at the window. Stories, after all, said it was the right thing to do.

In the morning, the cup was always empty. Sarah did not know if it was her friends or her neighbour's cat who enjoyed it. The cat sometimes jumped on her window ledge from the neighbour's balcony, but Sarah had never caught him. It was probably him anyway. The more time passed, the harder it was to remember that the goblins and the labyrinth were not a dream. Why did her friends disappear? It wasn't fair.

Sarah smiled as she realized that she was falling back into childishness. Life was not fair. The fairy world less still. On reflection, the very idea of justice was a lie. All the same, Sarah had won that night. It seemed legitimate, after the hardships she had endured, that she could continue to see her companions. Unfortunately, she had only theories to explain their absence and no certainty. She could only hope that her memories were real, that she wasn't being followed everywhere, that it was just paranoia.

It was the only thing that convinced her that she was not crazy when it was another presence she felt close to her. Sometimes she felt followed by a tenacious grudge hanging out all day long. More rarely, an oppressive and haunting presence seemed to follow each of her steps, leaving her out of breath before the end of the day. On those days, even the people around her seemed affected and ended up avoiding her.

Slowly breathing, Sarah drove her worries away, retrieved the empty cup from the window sill and closed it. The curtains hid the owl from view again. Like every morning, Sarah had to force herself to focus on mundane things rather than wandering in her thought. She would have to buy milk and eggs. She would take the opportunity to make the change for the laundromat. She still had enough pasta and vegetables to hold until the end of the week. She had to go to the library to check some references and especially to see her teacher.

In the past, she had defeated the Goblin King himself. Today, she had to think about the fact that she only had two pairs of clean socks left.

No, life was not fair, but it loved irony.

Sarah ordered her papers and books and stuffed them in her bag. Then, she grabbed her keys and went out. As she put the keys in the lock of her apartment, she shuddered. She wasn't alone. There was someone behind her and she could feel their breath in her neck. She turned, but the presence was still behind her, coldly amused by her behaviour. Terrorized, she reopened the door and took refuge in the apartment. The unpleasant sensation disappeared and Sarah leaned against the door, trying to catch her breath, terribly aware that her keys had remained on the lock, on the other side and that she was no longer safe on this side of the door. She wanted to be able to stay there all day. Her apartment was an island of security for her. Whoever it was who followed her in public places, they left her alone in her home. But if she made the choice to hide there for a whole day, she would never dare leave her house ever again. Inspiring a long sip of air, she reopened the door.

The presence was still there but was staying at a reasonable distance. Relieved, Sarah retrieved her keys and went down the stairs. At the bottom, she met her owner shivering, a shawl on her shoulders.

"It's crazy this sudden cold with this big sun," she mumbled. "Is there an open window up there?"
"Nothing at all," Sarah said, letting her go upstairs to check.

She hurried out, certain that the atmosphere would warm up inside. While putting her keys in her bag, she checked that the owl was still in its place and blinked. It was gone.

Then, a cloud went before the sun and Sarah realized that it was only an effect of the brightness. The owl was still here. Breathing again, she walked away as fast as she could.
Her landlady was right. The weather was beautiful and the heat exceptional for Oxford this season. Sarah decided not to take the bus. She had time, after all. On foot she joined Merton College where she had a meeting with Professor Dyntoshire, wondering what the weather was like in America and how her family was doing. She missed them, of course, but she loved this city, especially on sunny days like this.

When she arrived in the old college, she joined the professor's office, knocked at the door and waited for him to call her inside. The old, stern professor did not rise to greet her but pointed to the chair for her to sit down. Sarah took the time to take out her papers and take a look at Midsummer Eve's reproduction hanging on the wall. As always, she wondered if fairies of this kind, sweet and cheery, really existed or if the ignoble but endearing Goblins were the only real mythological creatures.

"So Miss William," asked the professor, "have you finished your paper?"

Sarah cursed her distraction and sat up straighter in her chair.

"Yes, sir."

He grabbed the file she was holding out and consulted it, shaking his head regularly before putting it on top of a large pile.

"I will keep you informed of your note. And now, have you thought about this thesis project?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you again for accepting to supervise me.

"You are smart and rational. I do not agree with all your ideas, but you have the merit to be interested in understudied aspects of folklore."

Sarah did not blush under the professor's compliment, even though they were rare. She had learned not to be dismounted by contempt and insult. She particularly distrusted compliments. They gave power over the other.

About her thesis ... That was the heart of the problem, really. There was so much that Sarah wanted to understand, wanted to master, and myths and folklore said so little. Never again would she feel helpless and prisoner.

"I do not really know," she admitted.

"The last time we saw each other, you talked about the loss of innocence in fairy tales," the teacher insisted. "This subject has potential. Remains to see under what angle you wish to approach it."
Yes, she had thought about it. The subject satisfied her less and less, however. It was too close to her personal story and it was out of the question for her to fall back into the self-reflexion of her childhood. She had lost her innocence that night, but she was sure she had won something in exchange. Sarah looked up to fix Midsummer Eve's reproduction again. Just like that, she knew what she wanted to study.

"The words of power. I want to study speech as a source of power in fairy folklore."

These words seemed to resonate in the silence of the room and curl around Sarah's chair. She held a smile, not to annoy a potential spectator. Yes, it was a good choice. She did not want to understand what had happened to her, nor to find out if it was real. She didn't need or want to study her adventure from the perspective of psychoanalysis. No, what she wanted was weapons to attack in response if it were real. If she was confronted by this world again. Understanding it, defending herself was insufficient, it was the reaction of a frightened girl. She wanted to be able to fight and win again, but no more by chance.

The professor raised an eyebrow.

"It's a bit drastic change. You will have to go back to your corpus and start over your searches from scratch."

"I can do it."

"We will see that. All the same, it is strange to go from the issue of fairy's victims to their powers."

"In fact, I am more interested in the question of speech and language as a mean to confront the fairies."

"Start from a comparative point of view, at first. Very well. The holidays start tomorrow. I come back on the 30th. That leaves you a month to convince me that this new choice is the right one, with a good corpus to support it, of course."

Sarah smiled broadly as she collected her belongings. The professor was already ignoring her to look on his corrections and gave her a distracted hand sign that looked less like a goodbye than an order to disappear.

Once in the hall, Sarah leaned against the wall and sighed with relief. The teacher had no patience for uncertain students. If he had not found her subject interesting, he would probably have kicked her out with orders to find another thesis supervisor. Once she was not overwhelmed by relief, she realized what the teacher had also requested her to do and she slammed her forehead. She felt like an idiot. She hasn't realized at the time that she had committed to a titanic job for the coming month. Knowing the professor, he would be only half satisfied with her research and would make her start again from scratch two or three times just to constitute her initial bibliography. Two months locked in the library, that's what awaited her. She had to renounce to any hope of returning to America before the fall. But she couldn't be sorry for herself. It would not have happened if she had been less indecisive. With a decided step, she went to the library.

She stayed a long time at the library. When she got off the bus in her street, the evening was already well advanced and Sarah was exhausted. Her brain seemed unable to stop thinking and crisscrossed references to consult the next day. She was so tired she nearly forgot to stop to check if the owl was still in its place. She was neither hungry nor thirsty, she just wanted to crumble in her bed and not leave for two days, at least. The unpleasant presence had stuck to her feet all day long. Sarah's discomfort had almost kept her from concentrating.

The noise she made when opening and closing the door of the house attracted her landlady.
"Miss William, you've received a call earlier. I noted the number on the dresser, you should call back tonight."

Sarah nodded and waited until her landlady had disappeared into her living room and closed the door to get to the phone. That was one of the reasons she chose this student room, even if it was quite far from the colleges and the libraries. There was no phone in her room. This way, her parents were forced to call her at set times rather than ringing her at ease. Anyway, she had not kept any of her childhood friends after her adventure. They had nothing in common now. At Oxford, she had only made distant connexions with her fellow students. Only the understanding of the Underworld interested her now. She called her family about twice a week, mostly to talk to Toby, the few times he was in a talkative mood.

Besides the handset, she found a phone number. English, unknown to Sarah. Curious, she picked up the handset and dialled the number. She felt her stomach twisting. The surprises and the unknown displeased her supremely but it was unlikely that the inhabitants of the Underworld had learned to use modern technology.

"Good evening, I'm Miss William," Sarah asked as soon as someone took the phone. "Did you tried to contact me earlier in the day?"

"Miss William? Please wait."

The voice was male and doubtful. He had to put his hand on the phone because Sarah only heard a muffled murmur. Tired, she was getting impatient when the voice resounded again.

"A moment if you please, I give you room 307."

Sarah spent the long seconds of waiting to speculate in vain on who could contact her from a hotel. Finally, she heard her mother-in-law's voice.

"Sarah, is that you? It's been hours that we try to reach you!"

The girl refrained from retorting sharply that she had studies to carry out and that she could no more be at their disposal than they were systematically present at the times they had set well in advance. She hoped she became more mature with the years.

"I was busy with my research, my thesis project will be validated in September," she replied rather before adding the only argument likely to interest her mother-in-law. "It is a very famous teacher who will mentor me."

"Oh. That's good, I guess."

Her indifference did not surprise Sarah. She got used to it and was satisfied with it. Their exchanges never dragged on and they had to endure them only a short time.

"Is my father here?" She asked to end the silence. "What are you doing in England?"

"Oh, we are on an unforeseen business trip. A colleague of your father had to withdraw. Your father replaced him unexpectedly and must sign a big contract tomorrow. He is not here at the moment, but in a business meeting, to prepare the signature. His client invited us to discover England, its culture and its history. He made us visit London this afternoon, it was great. We are in London for another three days, you have to come tomorrow. We could go shopping together and eat at the hotel. Toby miss you so much!"

Sarah had ten times opened her mouth during her mother-in-law's logorrhea to refuse. The mere mention of Toby stopped her and she sighed.

"I cannot come during the day," she sighed, "I must advance my research. Can I come in the late afternoon and spend the evening with you?"

Her mother-in-law only protested for two seconds. They quickly settled the last details of her arrival, eager to say goodbye. Sarah hung up with relief, then climbed down to her bed, just taking the time to put her research on her desk.

The Oxford train dropped her in London at six o'clock and Sarah rushed into the subway trying to contain her repulsion. She hated this city with passion and its subway even more. The corridors reminded her of others where she had almost been killed by a metal machine. She did not breathe properly until she arrived in the hotel lobby.

She was guided to a living room where she waited a few minutes before her parents joined her. She could not miss her mother-in-law's grimace of disappointment when she saw her dressed in simple jeans in this luxury hotel. A little proud of herself, as every time she did not correspond to what Irene would have wanted her to be, but trying to hide it, Sarah got up to embrace her father. The embrace was brief and clumsy, as always.

"Where is Toby?" Sarah finally asked as they sat around a table and her father had hailed a waiter.

"The hotel offers to make the children eat apart," explained Irene. "You will see it after the meal."
"It's not a bad idea, you know. Toby needs to spend more time with children his age."

Her father looked worried and tired. For this reason alone, Sarah did not begin a scandal. She was terribly annoyed at being deprived of Toby for a few more hours on the pretext of a dinner she did not want to attend. They all knew that she had only come for her brother.

When they had been served with drinks, Sarah agreed to answer their questions. She explained to them her new subject of research and spoke about the books she had consulted in the morning. She described with love the long rows of books that stretched almost endlessly in the Oxford libraries. They listened to her, smiling indulgently. Their eyes, however, revealed that they did not understand her thirst for knowledge. When she went quiet, they had finished their drinks and left the living room to sit at the table in the hotel restaurant. This time it was Sarah who pretended to be interested in her father's affairs and the inept pastimes of her mother-in-law. They were all eager for the meal to end.

The dessert arrived without them having exchanged more than platitudes. Sarah's parents regularly glanced around, encouraging each other to speak without ever taking the risk. Finally, while Sarah was going to lose patience and ask what this was all about, her father frowned, looking behind her.

"What are they doing here? We said at nine o'clock. I have to join them. Darling?"

"I'll take care of everything here," Irene assured him. "Go ahead, we'll join you."

Sarah turned to look at her father, who went at the entrance of the hall to join three men in their suits. He greeted them with a smile and pats on the shoulder were exchanged. Sarah turned away from the scene, fulminating.

"Really ? You managed to stall me before a business meeting in your ministers' schedules?"

"Really Sarah, don't act like a kid! It was you who said you couldn't free your afternoon for us. Your father was so happy to see you, you know? He simply did not have the choice to meet his future partners now that the contract is signed. And then, we thought you could spend the rest of the evening with Toby."

Sarah reluctantly nodded and poured herself a glass of water to digest her anger before speaking again.

"I hope this evening will go well for dad then."

The contempt she felt for him and her mother-in-law was almost not heard. Irene nodded distractedly as she turned her glass of wine between her hands. She wantend to ask something to her but Sarah wasn't going to help her. Never create obligations where you can avoid them. That was another thing that the goblins world taught her.

"Do you have friends Sarah?"

The question was not one she expected.

"A few, yes," she lied with confidence."

"It's good. Do you see them often?"

"Every day at the university. A little less now that the holidays have started."

The lie seemed to satisfy Irene. Sarah concentrated, preparing herself for the following lies and half truths. It had been like that for almost ten years. To pretend that all was well, that she had not given her brother away for a few hours of silence. Smile. Lie. Never reveal herself, being herself only in front of her books.

"Toby has no friends," eventually confess Irene.

"At school?"

"And even in the neighborhood. That's why we took him with us. It was a long trip, but there was nobody close enough to accept him for a few days."

Sarah had asked herself the question and judge a little less severely her mother-in-law. This woman suddenly seemed very tired.

"He must still have comrades with whom he gets along," Sarah insisted. "I was a reserved child, but I had a few comrades with whom I felt well."

"He does not even have that. His teacher told me he spends his time alone in the yard. He does not even play with his comrades. I enrolled him in a music class this year. His teacher says he is quite talented, but he has not heard three words from him since the first day. Even at home, he never says anything. I was advised to see a psychiatrist. Sarah, you've always been good with him.

Maybe you could try to find what's wrong?"

"I can try."

Sarah was worried. She was also strangely affected by her mother-in-law cry for help. It was the first time they really spoke, from adult to adult. Irene pressed the keys of her room into Sarah's hand and squeezed it briefly. She was almost trembling with emotion.

"I must join your father," she finally said. "You should go get Toby and send him to bed quickly."
"I'm taking care of everything."

Sarah didn't try to finish her dessert. Her stomach seemed to contract and try to swallow itself. She left the table just after her mother-in-law and left the restaurant without looking at her father. All her thoughts were fixed on Toby. At the reception, she was directed to a small room where a dozen children played loudly while waiting for their parents. Toby was the only one to stand aside. He had grown a lot since the last time Sarah had seen him, almost a year ago, she realized with shame. He must be seven now. At the same time, he looked tiny for his age. She smiled when she saw him holding Lancelot in his arms. This teddy bear was definitely the favourite companion to us both. Then, she realized that her brother was clinging to it as if he were terrified. She approached without him noticing. He stared at the ground, frowning.

"Hey, Toby!" She whispered softly so as not to surprise him. "I miss you, you know?"

He then looked up, blinked several times and finally made her a smile.

"Sarah," he said solemnly.

"How are you?"

He did not answer. Sarah did not worry too much. She knew her little brother. He hated people. As a child, he screamed until he was allowed to go into hiding in his room when his parents invited people. Sarah took her hand to encourage him to get up, but he refused, clinging more fiercely to Lancelot. To drag him to their room, Sarah almost had to tear one of his hands from the bear body to grab it. Then he nearly threw himself on the ground in protest. He refused to move. Finally, Sarah had no choice but to take him in her arms and carry him to the elevator. He was heavy and made no effort to spread his weight better. In the elevator several people threw scornful looks at Sarah, reproaching her for giving in to the whims of such a big child. She ignored them ostensibly.

Once on the right floor, she wanted to put Toby on the ground, but this time he clung to her with all his strength, forcing her to a strange gymnastics to open the door of their room and close it. It was obviously his parents' room, but a door led to a second small room with a child bed. Toys were everywhere on the floor and Sarah almost impaled on the spear of a small wooden soldier when she went press the switch. When it was done, she dropped than she put Toby on his bed, exasperated. He went to sit cross-legged at the other end of the bed, Lancelot still pressed against his heart. He stared at the floor and didn't stop, even as Sarah crouched by his side, all anger gone.

"What is the problem, Toby?"

Her question remained unanswered. Sarah sighed and sat next to her brother on the bed. She had to think and stop panicking. While gently stroking Toby's hair, she could not help but think that she should have seen that he was not well. She had been living in England for three years, and she saw him barely three to four weeks a year. She had always noticed that he was a reserved child, more than she was at the same age. Before the fateful night, Sarah had been a child then a young girl quite playful and open. When he was left to himself, Toby stayed in his corner with his two or three favourite toys. If Sarah was there, he was playing with her, but only if she took the initiative. He preferred to sit near her and listen to her stories.

"Is everything going well at school? At home? You want to tell me something?"

Sarah insisted but Toby stayed silent. Usually, he spoke to her. Every summer when she came home, he had adorable stories to tell her, stories of birds and butterflies he told by whispering and stumbling over his words while drawing on the floor. This silence was totally new to Sarah.
She could not help thinking that she was partly responsible. Since that night, she had always looked after her little brother the best she could, it was true. After that night, Toby stopped crying as soon as she hugged him, much to the chagrin of her mother-in-law, who did not understand how she could do it. Sarah had become his favourite and she was totally attached to him in return. Yet, she had abandoned him a second time. Every summer, she had told herself that, in spite of his shyness, everything would be fine for him and that to talk to him twice a week would be enough to show him all her love.

Perhaps she had been wrong to want to become an adult and overcome the fear that had gripped her that day. But it had seemed so reasonable to take her independence and move away. Toby needed to grow up surrounded by affection, but not to feel overwhelmed by his big sister. After all, when she had left the house, just after Toby's fourth birthday, he looked relieved that he did not have to endure the long hugs she gave him to reassure herself. She didn't know if she had hurt him more by leaving than by staying. Maybe it was her sense of guilt that spoke.

"Did I hurt you?" She asked and Toby turned his head slightly in her direction. "I hurt you a lot when you were little you know? I hated you. But I knew I was wrong and I love you, so please tell me what's wrong."

He did not answer but handed her Lancelot. Their eyes met for a moment before he fixed the ground again. Sarah sighed and took the old stuffed toy.

"Maybe what you need is just a good night's sleep. Jet lag is a plague."

It was not easy to prepare Toby for bedtime. He must have been exhausted because, in spite of his almost ten years, Toby was not able to put on his pyjamas alone and stormed as soon as Sarah tried to put Lancelot aside to help him. She finally managed to do it and joined him under the blanket to whisper the story of Ludo, the kind monster who helped children who did not speak. Toby fell asleep along the way. Sarah kissed him softly and suddenly realized it was the first time she had mentioned the Goblin world in front of her little brother. Until then, she had taken great care to invent stories that had nothing to do with her own adventure.

Once she was sure that he had fallen asleep, Sarah got up and pulled a flashlight from her backpack and a book. Then she turned off the light. However, she couldn't concentrate, the words seemed to dance on the page. She finally gave up and closed her eyes.

Sleep was long to come.