The Monster in the Maze

The monster has surfaced. Its guttural growl and scream echoes through the cavernous stone forest that is my home. I have been told by those who found their way into this realm that a vicious creature exists in the dark corridors, only now have I heard its hunting cry. Throughout my harsh and unfriendly life, I have never felt terror until this day.

The twist and turns of my surroundings provide cold comfort despite the echoing howls reverberating in the expanse above my head. I cannot know which passage or stunted hallway the beast inhabits, but I know that my familiarity with this winding maze can keep me safe. Perhaps the beast will tire of its hunt, or become lost in the deep, winding chaos of the Labyrinth. This home of mine can be dark and cruel, but I cannot believe it would betray me to that unseen beast.

The great doors opened this morning, letting the golden light of the noble world above shine down onto this world. That glorious, blinding, hateful moment that has come only twice before brings companions with gifts. Oh, how I long for those companions to, just once, provide affection and kindness, as my sister has shown me in the past. These little creatures always run from me, hiding until they starve or grow mad and wound each other or themselves. I have often made bedding from their bull adorned tunics so that I might feel something soft and forgiving.

I am certain these little creatures despise my face, as my father did. I wear the helmet and mask left for me as a way to shield others from my grotesque visage, but it never seems to fully hide the curse the gods placed on me. My sister has never truly seen the hideous deformity under my helm as she never lowers herself into my home, instead choosing to tell me tales of heroes from the high platform by the great doors. She comes by candlelight when the noble world is dark and brings me such kindness.

Here in my journey to avoid the raging beast, I find the baskets of food the little ones have left behind. I do so hope that they have managed to hide from the raging monster in the Labyrinth. I would hide the little beings in the untouched places of this cave if they would let me. I, too, was once a little creature like they are, though not so beautiful. My mother loved me, but my father saw the blighted face the gods gave me and cast me down into this underworld so that the great heroes of the noble land would not strike me down as a monster. Like Hades, I have made this underworld my home, yet, still like Hades, I also long to see the golden world above.

That roar sounds again. Such rage, and yet such excitement. This creature must be the most savage beast the gods have summoned. Why now has it come from its hiding? Why now does it thirst? The provisions laid at my feet will keep me strong. In the center of this maze I will be safe for none can find it and return.

Gathering the fruits and nuts is hard, but the faint sweet smell fills me with the desire to make my arms a cornucopia. I press my left shoulder to the hard, unyielding wall and guide myself through the corridors. The dry, sharp stone rakes over my bare skin, biting and gnawing on my flesh. As with much in my life, there is a price of pain and blood to be paid for any helping hand.

The center of this cavern is like a comforting womb, shielding me from the disdain and evils of the outside world. I have spent so much of my life cradled in this dark hollow that its round wall emanates the only true feeling of shelter and love I can remember. I remove the strip of leather that acts as a mask, feeling my bulbous chin and snubbed nose. The horned helm remains, defending me from the cruel gaze of the gods and the world around me.

My hunger overtakes me as I ravenously devour the fruits and nuts in my arms. The sweet juice of the fruit spills out over my lips, covering my deformed chin in wet, sticky nectar. The nuts crack like bones between my teeth and fill my belly with a nourishing weight that calms the knotted ache that had filled me before. With my hunger sated and the comforting curve of the walls around me, I let all worry of the stalking beast fade away and give into slumber.

As always, my dreams bring me to a place of memory, of a time before the Labyrinth, a time before my hideousness was hidden behind the bull helm of Crete. I dream of my mother, caressing me despite my face. I dream of my beautiful brother, designed by the gods to be a hero of the upper world, and of my sister, still just a babe. My dream always becomes a nightmare at this time as my father looks upon me with pain and disgust. He will not strike me down for fear of what the gods might do, but he cannot show me to the world. I see his hand lift into a fist, a hammer of flesh and bone. The dream always ends as his fist falls, though this time I can feel the impact.

The blow crushes against the helmet, bringing a hard crunch of the bronze. The scream of rage alerts me at once that this is no dream. The beast has found me and, with his claws latching around my throat, he yearns to end my life. Blinking the bleariness and panic from my eyes, I see the beast is fair, the image of a grand hero from across the sea. The monster’s face is nothing like the wrathful bellow that bursts from his lips, but the look in his eyes is as evil and terrifying as the darkest creatures of Tartarus.

The monster’s grip is loose and scrambling, having difficulty securing a deathly vise around my throat. Before I can fully gain my bearings, the beast releases his grip and dives to one side, scrambling for something unseen. I sit up and straighten, seeking to gain some degree of leverage to fight back. I lift myself to my knees to begin my rise when suddenly I feel the twine wrap around my throat, once, twice, three times before tightening. I struggle to slip my fingers under the sharp thread cutting into my neck, robbing me of air and resolve.

The twine, soaking with my blood, fulfills its purpose and brings a pitiful end to my nightmare. “Die monster!” My attacker cries. As the world grows darker than it had been before, one question pushes down the desperate query of whether I will survive: which of us is truly the monster: the Minotaur or the beast that has slain him?