Collection Of Stray Thoughts

The Maze

He was running, gasping for life. 

His hair were matted to his forehead with sweat and dirt. His clothes clung to his body like a second skin. Purple dust covered his scratched knees and sweat dribbled down the nape of his neck.

He seemed as if he was about to faint, but the boy never stopped moving.

He hadn't stopped running in that twisted maze for ages. He was constantly on the move, hiding from the others -- although he, himself, did not know what exactly they were. He had'nt stopped running when his feet had gone numb, he had'nt stopped running when his lungs had protested again and again, so why should he stop now, now that the danger itself was upon him? But then it has always been upon him, always there, always waiting for him to stop.

His shoes slammed against the hard paved floor while the sound of it reverberated through the empty darkness. His eyes frantically moved from one dark wall to the next. Every path was as intimidatingly twisted as the one he had left behind. Every path equally dark, every path equally promising danger.

He was scared to stop and seemed to be moving on autopilot as his mind had already shut down, unwilling to provide solutions to his fruitless running. 

He had been alone and in this maze for as long as he could remember. 

Something peeked from around the bend as he took it. It was light, although his useless mind registered it as nothing but the absence of the endless darkness. Maybe it was his numb mind playing tricks on him, to at least provide some relief in this neverending void. But it shone so brightly, promising hope and happiness. Maybe it was them.

He couldn't care less.

He now ran towards that ray of light, his footsteps finding a fruitfull purpose. 

He kept on running, unmindful of his surroundings before it was too late.

The boy felt himself suffocating. His already protesting lungs started to crumble under the added pressure. He extended his arms and found the coarse walls closer to him then he had ever felt them before. He dared not to look back in the fear that the light might disappear in the few seconds he looks away.

The light flickered.

He was on the verge of losing himself but he still fastened his pace, still quickened his steps. 

He turned a dark corner and saw that the ray had turned into a stream of bright light. The idea that there was light at the end of this dark path gave him strength. The boy had stopped gasping and his steps became more firm. Desperation works wonder, to man and animal alike, for it was his desperation to get to that light that gave him strength. Gave him what he had already lost. It was all desperation, desperation that worked a miracle.

The walls were almost touching his shoulders by now, but he ran. He had turned another corner and saw that he had to turn around only one more bend to reach the source. Just one more bend to reach happiness, just one more bend to achieve freedom, just one more bend.

The walls were pressing hard now, telling him to stop. He was sure that if he forgot about the light and went back to his cage of empty darkness then the walls would leave him alone. 

But the light made him forget about everything else and the darkness he thought he belonged to. So he ran with his shoulders crammed into the walls. He ran with a purpose he could see. He ran with a reason he had logic for.

He ran until he reached the light but alas, the walls held no mercy for a free soul. 

They closed in, leaving no space in between. The whole maze became one and the light still shone from the center, oblivious to the tragedy that had been caused. Oblivious to the tragedy it had caused.

And the boy became one with the light he oh so desired. Squished between the walls, erased from the page of the living. The only proof of his existence was the scream that echoed for ages in that maze. 

It was the first sound that ever left his lips.