Wonderwall (Maze Runner)

P R O L O G U E

Hi Everyone!!!

This is my new story Wonderwall and (as you can see from the title) its a Maze Runner FanFic!!!! Its rated PG-13 bacause of the violence, not for anything else. I will be updating slowly since Im almost always grounded, so I will try to update as much as possible. Well hope you like it!!!! Please comment, vote, and share since it really helps my story for more people to read it.

~Clara :)

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She woke up in a dark musty lift, not even knowing who she is.

Her eyes shoot open, and she inhales sharply. Her throat was dry, and the hot air stung her lungs. She doubled over in a fit of coughing, for it seemed as if se hadn't taken a single breath in eons.

The box was pitch-black, and she couldn't even see her own hand in front of her face. The stuffy air seemed to sick to her clothes. The screeching of the grinding of metal against concrete filled the air.

She cautiously stood up, both hands latching onto the mesh walls of the lift to keep her balance in the wobbly lift. Once she had managed to maintain her balance, one hand let go of the wall and started feeling the air for any object apart from her in the box.

Her hand hit a wooden box, and she clung to it to not forget where it was. She slid her hand over the wooden surface of the crate, ignoring all the splinters that punctured and clung onto the soft flesh of the hand. Then her hand found something that seemed burned onto the rough wooden side of the crate. A series of eight letters and numbers, and beneath that there seemed to be a six letter word. Her hand traced the burnt letters of the box. W. I. C. K. E. D. WICKED.

The name seemed to cause an itch at the back of her head, as if there was a memory that was supposed to be there but wasnt. The word seemed familiar to her in some way, but she couldnt quite relate it with a specific memory. She didnt even have any memories that she could recall. It was like when you know a word, and you have it at the tip of your tongue, but you can't quite remember it. Only for her it was with her whole life.

Imagine a hallway. All the walls of each side of the hallway are covered with doors. Now imagine that each one of those doors lead to memories. You can hear all the sounds coming out of the doors, but all jumbled so you can't quite hear different voices in particular. Every time you’re trying to access that memory, you try to open the door, but its locked. It was as if a giant black wall separated her from being able to access her memories.

The lift lurched to one side, and she lost her balance, falling to the floor. She hissed as the meshed walls of the box cut her hand. She tried to look around, but it was pitch black inside the lift and it was impossible to see absolutly anything. She didnt know where she was, and she could feel the panic rising up from the pit of her stomach, threatening to come out. “Calm down.” She told herself, her voice drowned out by the screeching of the lift. The last thing that she needed was to panic and end up hitting her head on some crate. 

She decided to stay seated at the corner of the lift, keeping her balance by grabbing the walls with her uninjured hand. That way she couldnt fall as easily and she had less risk of injuring herself more than she already had. She held her hand palm up on her lap, keeping pressure on it to try to delay the bleeding a bit. She could tell that the cut was pretty deep, and it stung like hell.

She stayed seated in that corner of the lift for what seemed like hours, waiting to see where the lift was going to take her. She had many theories, most of them being quite morbid. Then the lift finally stopped with a final lurch that almost sent a crate tumbling towards her.

A distant blaring alarm was heard from outside. Then two doors opened from above her with a earsplitting metal screech, flooding the dark box with sunlight. She blinked repeatedly, trying to regain her sight to be able to see what was happening around her. She could hear voices murmuring and whispering and she had an uneasy feeling that they were all about her.

She slowly regained her eyesight, and she was puzzled about what she saw. A crowd of boys were standing aroundt the opening to the lift, all of them either staring at her with open mouths or whispering to the people around them. She wondered why were they so surprised about her. Hadn’t they ever seen a girl before? Then she noticed the absence of other girls in the plethora of boys.

A boy appeared from the crowd and jumped into the box. He had touseled dirty blonde hair with kind brown eyes. He walked up to her, and she noticed that she had to look up to be able to see his face. He felt familiar to her, but just as she had before, she couldnt place from where or when she knew him. The ony thing that she knew for certain was that she could trust him. She could feel that from her heart.

“Name’s Newt. Welcome to the glade.”