The First Runner

I think I'm going to be sick

The next morning, I got up early and dressed in my running gear. I headed into the kitchen, grabbed a piece of bread and cheese, and made my way to the North doors. The memories of the previous day's search weighed heavily on my mind, but I knew I had to keep going. Stephen was still out there, and I couldn't give up on him.

Bark trotted beside me as I reached the still-closed doors. I stretched, waiting for them to open, the low groan of the massive stone slabs becoming a familiar sound. As soon as the gap was wide enough, I took off running into the Maze, leaving Bark sitting at the entrance.

The Maze seemed even more foreboding today, its towering walls casting long shadows in the early morning light. I focused on my breathing and the rhythm of my steps, pushing myself to move faster. Every minute counted.

The paths twisted and turned, each one a potential hiding place for Stephen. I called out his name periodically, my voice echoing off the stone walls. There was no response, only the eerie silence of the Maze.

As the sun climbed higher, I took a short break, quickly scribbling down some notes and directions in my notebook. I ate my simple breakfast, washing it down with water from my canteen, before resuming my search.

Stephen!" I called, my voice growing hoarse. The Maze's oppressive silence was the only reply.

"Come on, Stephen, talk to me!" I shouted again, louder this time. Still nothing.

I ran for what felt like hours, my feet pounding against the stone paths, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Every corner turned was a new hope, a new possibility, but each one was met with the same empty corridors. The Maze was a relentless, unyielding puzzle.

After what must have been three hours of relentless searching, I stumbled upon a sight that made my stomach twist with nausea. Blood. Fresh, dark, and smeared across the stone floor. My heart pounded in my chest as I dropped to my knees, examining the gruesome trail.

The blood wasn't in large quantities, but it was enough to tell me that Stephen had been injured. My mind raced with worst-case scenarios as I followed the trail, my hands trembling slightly.

"Stephen!" I called out again, my voice echoing through the Maze. The sight of the blood made my calls more desperate, more urgent. "Stephen, answer me!"

I moved quickly but cautiously, my eyes scanning every shadow and crevice. The blood trail led deeper into the Maze, and the walls seemed to close in around me, their towering presence more intimidating than ever. My thoughts raced with every step: what if I was too late? What if he was already...?

I pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. I had to find him, and I had to do it fast. The sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows that made the Maze even more labyrinthine. I picked up my pace, my breath coming in short bursts as I continued to follow the trail.

Finally, I rounded a corner and saw something that would forever be engraved in my memory. It was Stephen's shirt, soaked in crimson red blood, discarded and crumpled against the stone wall. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached the shirt, my hands trembling. I knelt down, picking it up gingerly, as if the very fabric held the answers I sought.

"Stephen!" I called out, my voice echoing off the walls. The sight of his bloodied shirt intensified my fear, but I couldn't afford to lose focus. I had to find him. That is if he was still alive.

I scanned the area, looking for any further signs of Stephen. The blood trail continued, albeit fainter, leading me deeper into the Maze. I forced myself to keep moving, every step a battle against the rising panic within me.

As I pressed on, the Maze's oppressive silence was occasionally broken by distant noises – the scurrying of small creatures, the whisper of the wind through the cracks in the stone. I pushed these distractions aside, honing in on the trail.