labyrinth - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The maze was shabby twisting hedgerows, all of them twice as tall as Tamika. With the sun just rising from behind the wooded hill she figured it was then or not at all. Ahead were the most hours of sunlight she'd ever have to find whatever was hidden at the centre.
Jasper had travelled far further than the bounds of the labyrinth, yet the passageways still stretched as far as he could see in every direction. It was as if it grew during the night, as if in the blackness it ate up his fears and used them as fuel. He had stopped fearing monsters and adversaries, his enemy was dehydration and fatigue. It was a thoroughly boring way to die. Perhaps George was still in here, perhaps Lisa had come looking for him. He closed his eyes in silent prayer, "Dear God let her be safe on the outside and let me find a way out."
The daylight had dwindled to a barely perceptible lightening of the gloom. Each wall of concrete was identical to the next without an identifying marker of any kind. Standing in what could be any part of the labyrinth, Jasper realized his folly. He had been so certain he could do better than George, that he would be in and out in half a day or less. There was no reason that left would be better than right, or ahead better than doubling back. He considered sitting until the dawn, but who knows what would come when he was made blind by the night.
The walls were an impenetrable dark grey stone, covered with moss and towered a good twenty feet above Kayla and Zanta. Wherever they went the walls stretched away from them as far as the eye could see. Unless there was some trickery with unseen mirrors they were miles deep in a Labyrinth of unending passageways with no memory of how they had gotten there. As the light of the day dwindled into twilight and threatened to die altogether, they heard a great savage howling from somewhere in the maze. Then with a deafening grinding noise that shook the hard baked earth, the walls of the maze themselves started to move. When they stopped there was only one path they could take; and it was in the direction of the beast.
“It's not life or death, the labyrinth. Suffering. Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. That's the problem. Bolivar was talking about the pain, not about the living or dying. How do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering?”
“The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.”
Outside the maze was sunshine enough to see the towering walls of steel and the late evening was quiet enough to hear the moans of those who had tried before her and lost their minds. Jayne was chosen to brave the maze, should she reach the centre the spell would be broken for the entire planet and they would have a second chance to beat the demon ruler. That was the law and it was an ancient magic, one even the demon could not break. But in that maze she would have to face her own personal fears, every one of them and still proceed to the centre. She would hear taunting voices and see her worst fears brought to life. She would hear how she was unworthy. She would be goaded into committing betrayals against those she loved, because to betray love was to betray God. She would have a hundred ways to fail and only one to succeed. She had to walk through every fear, face down her own demons and do no harm. She clenched her jaws together and set off into the maze with no torch, no guide, no map, but with her eyes wide open. Succeed and the whole world won a second chance to bring God back, the God who was Love, fail and the demon kept power in his relentless quest to turn God's planet into a hell.
The walls of the labyrinth are cold day and night, impervious to the sun. Though the earth may char they remain frigid, almost frozen. There is something odd about the air around them, darker perhaps, as if they suck in the very daylight they swim in. The paths go on for miles before there is a single turning or place to make a choice, as if this puzzle were built for a creature far larger than a girl.
To wake in that place, in the labyrinth, is to know that you are one of the living dead - for not a soul has ever made it out with their heart still beating. It isn't just the puzzle of the paths that split and turn, but the creatures that are released at intervals. Once in a while there is a weapon, but always the beast to be faced is more than a match. The watchers prefer to give false hope, to see the light in the eyes rise higher in their victim so that their pleasure in seeing it extinguished is all the greater. That's what we get for letting the psychopaths rule, for cowering when we should have taken them down.