Crawl

When I first entered here I was young.

Oh so very young.

I was naive, and hopeful, and optimistic that my journey would be fruitful.

That it would be an adventure to tell my loved ones about.

I was so young.

I was so stupid.

My time here since has taught me a great deal.

I thought I could do it at first.

I thought I could brave the unknown, and map that which has not been mapped.

That dream died quickly.

This maze, this labyrinth, this prison…

I became lost almost immediately.

How foolish was I to believe I could brave this test, and conquer this beast.

This place cannot be mapped, and it cannot be beaten.

For it is a living organism; vast and capricious and evil.

I believe that truly now.

It is the only belief left to me, for this place has devoured any other hopes I might have once held.

Just as it has devoured me.

I will die here.

This is not belief, this is fact.

The sun rises in the east; oil is thicker than water…

And this maze- so cramped and claustrophobic, my whole trek has been on my hands and knees-

this maze will be my tomb.

And I will die alone.

Sure, I’ve seen the odd soul or two in my time here.

Some forced their way past me in an eager panic to escape (oh, to still have hope of escape).

Some simply shuffled a different direction with a dead look in their eyes.

As if knowing there was no point, but not wanting to just lie down and accept death.

And some simply sat still and wept, finally succumbing to the tunneling tomb around them.

Sure I have seen them, and some have seen me.

But we are all still alone.

I am so tired of being alone.

I miss the low cadence of my father’s voice.

I miss the warmth of my mother’s soft embrace.

I miss the assurance that the innocence of childhood provided.

That everything would be alright.

That it would all work out.

That I was protected.

Was my family waiting for me?

Somewhere on the outside?

Hoping that I would one day return to them?

Or have they moved on, and accepted the same truths I have been forced to?

Most of all I miss sound.

Just sound.

Music, or birds, or traffic…

I don’t care anymore.

I just long for any noise that is not my constant shuffling and my ragged breath.

How much longer must I trudge on my knees?

Turning corner after corner of this shifting damnation?

I must be going mad.

I think I’m starting to hallucinate.

I’m starting to hear things.

Impossible things.

I hear my mother’s voice, calling to me.

Just more cruel taunts from this terrible snare.

Ignore it.

Fight it.

Don’t let it know it’s beaten you.

But I can’t fight it.

And against my better judgment, against sanity itself, I start moving towards the voice.

Maybe this is finally it.

Maybe my mother is dead, and is calling me to her.

The light at the end of my endless tunnel.

Just a little further…

And then, perhaps, I can rest.

“Dan…?”

“...”

“Daniel?”

Mother?

“Daniel!”

“Mom?”

“Daniel, get out of there right now.”

“Momma?”

“Do you know how long I’ve been calling you? Had me worried half to death. It’s time to go.”

“I was just-”

“I know you were just! Just climbing around in those tunnel mazes even though I told you you’d get lost. Where’s your sister? Go cash in your tickets and get a prize. You probably only have enough for an eraser or something, but still.”

“… Ok.”