another sort of thread

The walls… nothing but walls.

I keep walking anyway. My only other option is to stay still, and only one of those options stands a chance of changing things.

Still… so many walls.

Have I been here before?

I can’t tell. It all looks the same.

How long have I been here?

What am I even looking for?

I need to sleep.

I dreamed of outside. It was pink.

Things are starting to feel different.

If I close my eyes…

I can hear subtle changes in the air.

I notice slight differences in touch from one wall to the next.

The smells change as I move.

The air is fresher over here.

The light is blinding. And it’s beautiful.



“In some versions of the story he invented the labyrinth on Crete, where they kept the Minotaur. Problem was, he didn’t think through the consequences. Made the labyrinth so intricate it was hard to pin down the beast if you needed to slay it. Not only that, it had a design flaw. With a simple ball of thread you could make a trail to find your way out…”

-Terry Pratchett & Stephen Baxter, The Long Mars