Wednesday, 9 May 2012

Japanese Maze by Sam Smith

The middle of the maze wasn’t really in the middle. It was at the opposite corner to the entrance of the large square of hedges that were oddly green for November. It had taken us an hour to get to the middle which wasn’t really the middle. Wrapped up in coats and scarves, we bumbled around the unnaturally natural corridors until we reached the middle which wasn’t really the middle. It was like a secluded room of leaves. There were three small benches and a statue of a lion with a cartoon face. It was roaring. The two other benches were occupied by teenagers that kissed too loudly because this was the only place they couldn’t easily be found so they had to make the most of it. We occupied the third bench.

After ten minutes of regaining our strength and trying hard not to listen to the teenagers, I said mazes were stupid and that we should leave. There was only one entrance to the room of leaves and we used it as an exit. We couldn’t quite remember the way back to the entrance to the maze that we wanted to use as an exit. I was sure that we had gone the right way, but mazes are stupid and we ended up back at the middle which wasn’t really the middle, the room of leaves. There were no free benches any more.

Three attempts later, we were sure that we had reached the entrance to the maze. The gate that welcomed us to the maze arched over what was once a gap in the hedge, but the plants had grown over and closed it off. It was decided that returning to the middle that wasn’t really the middle to ask one of the teenagers what was going on would probably be a good idea, but the stout archway to the room of leaves had also grown over. Mazes are stupid.

We died in the maze. Our spirits floated up and we saw the whole of the maze. A green square, filled with lines that lead to no where. A middle that wasn’t really the middle. It was in the corner.

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