The First Runner

Shuck Me, I Have a Name

Jess 

The sun had dipped low behind the wall by the time I made it back to the homestead.

That's what it was—no denying it now. A real, honest-to-God homestead. Wood-paneled walls, solid beams, windows that looked like they'd been built to keep out storms and wolves and whatever else the world might've once thrown at it. It had that creaky, old-settler charm. Like someone had meant to build a life here a hundred years ago and just... stopped.

I stood on the porch for a second, one hand gripping the doorframe, staring out at the Glade. The field, the gardens, the empty clotheslines swaying gently in the dusk breeze. It was all so still. Too still.

Bark padded up behind me and sat down with a quiet whuff, like he was waiting for me to say something. But what the hell was I supposed to say?

I stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind me. The wood groaned under my boots as I walked down the hallway—past empty rooms, faded curtains, furniture too dusty to be useful. I'd lit a few candles earlier, but the flickering light made the shadows dance, made everything look older, more haunted.

I ended up in what had to be the main room—a big open space with a fireplace and a long, low table built for a dozen people who didn't exist. There was a leather chair by the window, so I sank into it, limbs heavy. Bark curled up nearby, his ears flicking with every creak of the old house.

Outside those walls—it was a maze. I knew that now. A real fucking maze. With walls that shifted, corridors that twisted, paths that probably led straight to hell if you walked far enough.

I pressed my palms into my eyes and exhaled slowly.

"I'm stuck here," I said out loud, just to hear it.

The words echoed through the quiet, and I laughed—sharp and ugly.

"I'm actually stuck here. What the fuck."

I shot up from the chair like I couldn't sit still any longer, my body suddenly too full of nervous energy. I paced the room, boots thudding against the wooden floor.

"They dropped me in a box like a sack of groceries. Gave me some tools, some crates, a dog, and now what? Now I'm supposed to just live here?"

My voice rose with every step. "I don't even know who they are! And it's a maze! A real-life, high-walled, horror movie bullshit maze!"

I turned and slammed both palms down on the table. Dust puffed into the air like smoke. "What the hell kind of sick joke is this?"

Bark didn't move, just watched me with those calm, silent eyes like he'd seen this all before. Maybe he had. Maybe I was just the next idiot on rotation.

"I keep thinking I'll wake up. That someone's gonna show up and say, 'Hey, Jess, time's up. Good job, you passed the test.'" I let out a short, broken breath. "But they don't. They fucking don't."

I was spiraling, I knew it. I could feel it—like my chest was caving in and my throat was too tight and there wasn't enough air in this whole damn house. My hands curled into fists at my sides.

"This is stupid," I whispered, half-laughing, half-sobbing. "God, it's so fucking stupid."

I sank back down to the floor beside Bark, my back against the wall. The wooden panels were cold through my shirt. Bark shifted closer and nudged his head under my arm. I buried my fingers in his fur, gripping tight.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I'm just losing my shit, don't mind me."

I sat there a while, breathing, listening to the faint rustling outside, the creak of the rafters above me, the soft thud of Bark's tail as he tried to cheer me up.