Young Writers Society

for those who do not recognize the names they have been given.

the monster in the maze was born from a tumor,

what the doctors called an abnormality. a grudge

metastasized. it was not always in the maze,

but they called it ungrateful for refusing milk,

as milk was not what it needed, because a thing born from a tumor

does not grow but rather festers, does not feed but rather devours,

and it took the doctors only a little while to realize it wanted

blood.

that is where the maze began.

it needed pastures and blood. and kings only have

so much of each but what kings do have

is people, and that's when it became the monster in the maze,

when it began taking other mothers' children,

which is how it counted the time since the sky

had been turned into stone: fourteen bodies

make one year,

and another,

and each year after that it was forced to see.

but a monster in a maze may be a misnomer.

some say mazes only become such when they have something to hide.

others say that heroes need battles so perhaps

it was only when the boy came that it became a monster.

or perhaps it was when the blade ran through and death followed,

but monsters should not find their deaths a relief, so then it must have been

when the hero returned alive and tragic

and they needed a thing to make his tragedy alright:

at least there was a monster to vanquish.

yes, that must be it.

but when you ask the bearer of the tumor

she says he used to fit in my arms. and when you ask its sister she says he’s just

another who was left behind,

and when you ask the all-seeing stars, they respond they witnessed no monster

but only a child.

and the inventor?

through the bars of his cell he shows you his hands and says:

the monster is the blade of my chisel,

and the blocks of stone i cut, and the first brick i laid.

the monster is the maze, and above all,

it is the scar on my thumb that aches when i carve.

these names will outlive us, he says, as do all the things we make,

and all we can do is ask for the grace of time.

the ghosts of children are our reminders of sin, and all we can do

is ask the world to be forgiving.