The Maze Runner Imagines

Minho Imagine

You lay down on Minho's bed. Under your breath, you start mumbling something that has been stuck in your head since you came up the Box. It was a poem. No one in the Glade knew that you remembered something other than your name. But that was fine with you. I mean it seems sort of stupid, telling people you remember something, they get worked up about it thinking that it'll help them get out, then they realize that it doesn't help whatsoever.
"We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades out eyes,
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask

We smile, but O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile,
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!"
("We Wear the Mask by Paul Laurence Dunbar)
You hear clapping and you whip around, looking for an explanation. Minho is sitting on the other side of the bed, looking down at you. You groan and grab a pillow from his bed and smashed it onto your face. "Where did you learn that?" Minho asks. "I dunno. I just knew it since I came out of the Box," you mumbled into the pillow. He snatches the pillow from your hands and looks down at you, "You remembered something?!" He looks incredulous, not believing me. You nod carefully. "And you didn't tell anybody?" He asks. "No. And even if I did, it wouldn't have helped." "That makes sense, I guess. Do you remember anything else?" Minho asks cautiously. You close your eyes, "Sometimes things flood back to me. Quotes,a poem, lyrics from songs. Nothing else. They don't make sense. It doesn't fall under one category, it's random." Minho leans over and kisses your cheek lightly, "Can you say a few things that you remember?" You nod, your eyes still closed. "Today is the tomorrow you thought about yesterday. The only poem I know is the mask one. We rip the start, the colors disappear." You pause, "It gets harder. The words appear in my mind, like graphics on a screen. Sometime it's blurry, sometimes it's clear, sometimes I only see it for one second, sometimes I'll see the same thing five days in a row. I don't know. It's perplexing." He kisses you softly, "Thank you for telling me."