The Maze The Lost Labyrinth - By Jason Brannon Page 0,13

forth, studying the dining table and its contents and wondered how I could use any of what I’d learned from the Polaroids to help me escape. After wracking my brain uselessly for nearly a half-hour, I collapsed into one of the dining room chairs, exhausted and confused. It was only as I let my mind wander and unfocus for a second that I was struck by a certain incongruous fact. Initially, I had thought that this maze was some sort of prison designed to punish me for my sinful intent. But, this room seemed to be focused more on alerting me to the fact that there were very specific areas in my life that were broken. That hardly seemed like a punishment. If this trap was the byproduct of a demon architect’s imagination, there was no way such a creature would go to the trouble to point out those weaknesses in me that needed fixing. On the other hand, if this was a labyrinth of angelic design, there would be no mention of a minotaur that delights in transgression.

I wasn’t sure what to think about the kinds of forces controlling my destiny. At the moment, it didn’t matter. Whether angels or demons were responsible, the fact remained that I was still trapped. Knowing the whys and wherefores wouldn’t magically make a door appear.

I picked up a fork or a spoon off of the table from time to time and smacked the walls in hopes of a reaction. Fearful that another barrage of darts might be fired at me, I was careful not to hit any of the symbols. I inspected each and every square inch of the room, looking for a break where a doorway might be. I even stood on top of the table and inspected the ceiling for a possible way out, but found nothing useful. Every square inch of the floors, walls, and ceiling appeared smooth and unbroken. I couldn’t find any trace of the door I used to enter the room.

I was trapped inside a Victorian nightmare where manners and etiquette were enforced as punishment; I kept waiting for a butler or a maid to enter the room and start dusting or polishing something, but nothing happened. Nothing moved, nothing gave any hint as to the room’s secrets. The cryptic writings on the walls read like the musings of a schizophrenic, and no amount of staring brought any further revelations. I remembered hearing about mathematical experts who had spent years studying the same blackboard and the same half-worked problem before one day saying 'Eureka!’ as the solution came to them in a flash of genius. I didn’t have time to wait on a similar burst of brilliance to show me the way out. I couldn’t imagine spending my entire life in a place like this. I would go crazy long before I ever died of hunger or thirst.

Panic set in at this point, and I nearly hyperventilated at the thought of being trapped here forever. Outraged and overwhelmed by helplessness, I lost it. I threw silverware and hurled plates. I smashed the chairs into kindling and reduced the tablecloth to tatters, and then started screaming.

“Let me out of here! I’m sorry for what I did!”

After destroying as much of the room as possible, I collapsed onto the floor in an exhausted heap. My hands were raw and filled with splinters, and the floor was covered with broken bits and pieces of china. Tattered Polaroids littered the ground like dead leaves in need of raking.

Despite every effort to create a door by force, I was trapped. Unable to do anything else, I closed my eyes and fell asleep. I thought about Amy and Peter and how much I‘d love to hug them both close to me and ask for forgiveness for the things I‘d done.

Thoughts of my family, however, vanished like wisps of fog the moment I crossed the threshold between waking and sleeping.

I dreamt I was being chased by a creature with eyes that smoldered like white-hot coals. Wickedly sharp horns crowned a head that owed as much to bovine physiology as it did to human anatomy. Flies circled the creature's head, laying eggs in the messy tangles of matted hair. Blood stained the creature’s muzzle, and its nostrils flared at my scent. It could smell the sin in my heart and salivated at the thought.

I ran blindly through the maze, not knowing which way to go, wondering if I was traveling in circles. Once or