Based on a dream…

Perhaps I’m not the one to tell this story, since I’m not its protagonist, but just one among six or nine other people who lived through it. I don’t know; I never had time to ask questions. Like everyone else, I never wondered why we were in that “labyrinth”, a long corridor lined with doors on either side that replicated after each door, perhaps infinitely. No one asked questions. Why are we here? Why do we always choose the door at the end of the corridor and never one on the sides? Maybe it was because of the absurd idea that this way we would get away faster from whatever we were running from.

How long had we been running? Probably longer than I could normally endure, but the sound of the doors slamming shut behind us was a good incentive to keep going and never stop. We couldn’t even bring ourselves to look back.

It’s hard to explain, especially when you don’t even understand the situation. We were fleeing without knowing what we were running from, and all we could hear were the doors slamming and the sound of the narrow walls of the labyrinth cracking. We continued like this for at least another hour, silently hoping to find a way out soon. That hope faded completely when we found, behind a final door, a square room with moldy walls and no entrances or exits other than the one that led to it. It didn’t have a single window either. It was a completely sealed room. Nevertheless, we went in and stayed together, because we knew that this would give us a better chance of defending ourselves when the time could come. We closed the door; the hinges creaked with pain, though not as great as the fear we felt. There were two bolts on the door, one at the top and one at the bottom; they almost broke when we closed them because of the excessive corrosion.

We all gathered against the wall opposite the entrance, standing at least three meters away. We looked at each other, our faces glistening with sweat, nervousness, fear, and great anticipation. It was bitterly cold, and our ragged breaths filled the air; there was a distinctly old-fashioned feel to the place. In those brief moments, I took a look at the diverse group of people there: men and women in almost equal numbers, of varying ages. Not long after we entered the room, the noises began in the hallway. For a few moments, all we could hear was that loud crash behind the door, a sign that something large was approaching, though we didn’t know what it was. I felt a hand grip my arm tightly, and when I turned, I saw a young woman about my age.

The roar grew louder and louder, now joined by a mix of sounds I recognized as the hum of large machinery, a collapsing building, and even desperate cries of people, among many others. The door was struck from the opposite side with such force that the hinges and pivots couldn’t hold it upright. It’s difficult to describe in words all the emotions and images that flashed through my mind at that moment. I can only say that I imagined all sorts of things before I even set eyes on the threshold: I saw a great beast with thick fur and fearsome claws, I saw all kinds of demons, I saw chimeras, and even a massive machine with a shapeless form. But my surprise—I presume—was no less than everyone else’s when we saw that, beyond that threshold laid bare before us, the explicit image of that corridor, filled with darkness and desolation, its floor covered in rubble torn from the walls by who knows what. All of us, bewildered and powerless to find any explanation, however fantastical, left the room and walked down the corridor. Deep gashes were visible in the walls, a sign that the labyrinth’s walls were of considerable thickness, impossible to breach. And we simply walked down the corridor, dodging the rubble on the floor, leaping over the large, cracked bricks, looking at each other’s sweaty, fearful faces, confused by what lay around us, as we took in that scene of solitude and uncertainty. Yet, there was still no sign of any connection to the outside world.

Check the Short Film based in this Story Tale: