The Labyrinth: Ginger's Story

The Labyrinth

Ginger’s Story: Part I

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound of dripping water was the only sound Ginger Snaps could hear. A heavy, musty smell like damp plaster filled her nostrils. She felt cold, oh so cold, as if her limbs were being wrapped in an icy shroud. There was a bitter, acrid taste in her mouth, as if she had thrown up recently. Where am I? she thought. Am I dreaming? Not knowing what she was going to see, the mare opened her eyes.

She most certainly was not in her warm, comfortable bed anymore.

The mare’s eyes met darkness. She could barely see through the gloom, except by a single candle that sat beside her. Grabbing the candle in her hoof, she stood and observed her surroundings. She appeared to be in some kind of rectangular room, made completely of stone.

Except the white plaster on the ceiling. Somehow, the contrast was more unsettling. She felt a sudden panic in the pit of her stomach.

Oh Celestia, where am I? Why am I here? What the hell happened to me? Is this some kind of joke?

She looked around, eyes scanning the room for a way out as she fought to keep calm. There were no objects she could see. No comforting presence of some familiar object to remind her of home. She felt her heart grow heavy; would she ever see home again?

Ginger sighed and laid back on the hard surface of the floor.

Maybe this is all a dream? A nightmare? Maybe  I’ve finally just lost it...

She closed her eyes  and shut them tight, as if to keep the darkness encompassing her out of her mind. She could barely feel her heartbeat dully thudding away. Her breath came out in short, ragged gasps, as she tried to dispel the darkness around. In her mind’s eye, she could feel the tiny world around her was slowing down.

Home. Warmth. Light.

She repeated these words again and again, rocking back and forth, a mantra to keep evil away like some magical incantation. She conjured up images in her mind one, after another. Anything to make her wake up!

My mother’s flat in Manehatten... my cottage on the edge of Ponyville... the morning sunlight shining through my window... the fresh morning breeze... the warmth of my fire on a  cold winter’s day... the  happy laughter of foals...

Ginger felt herself smile at the thought. She was home again, not here. She was sitting by her fire with a good book, watching the first snows of winter collect on her windowpane. She was poring over her textbooks, eagerly soaking up facts and fiction with a fiery zeal. She was embracing her mother, who whispered into her ear the words she wanted to hear.

You’re alright... you’re alright... you’re home, Ginger, you’re home.

Taking a chance, she opened her eyes once more.

And then her bright smile fell. The images she could see in her mind’s eye were quickly slipping away from her grasp. The bright colours of the world she remembered: happy, bright, vivid, were being  painted over with muted grey before her very eyes. No matter how hard she tried, the mare could not ignore the cold and invasive touch of reality upon her consciousness.

I’m not here... I’m at home... I’m at home... I’m in my nice soft bed, beneath the covers...

Her back hurt from the stone floor. Every time she adjusted herself, she found she could not feel anything but tiny chips of stone digging into her back.

I’m not here... I’m curled up by my hearth..

Her limbs were slowly becoming numb, the frigid air creeping its foul touch across her body. Every time she took a breath, she could see  the vapour by the light of the tiny candle. Pleading with herself to cease this nightmare, she stared down at the floor, as if willing it to disappear.

I’m not here.. I’m out in the field, running and stretching my legs in the sunlight.

She could move- but did she want to? There was no place to go. Nowhere to run. Nowhere. It was all solid stone.

I’m not here... I’m not here... *I’M NOT HERE!** Bright grass, sunlight, my red orchids, paintings, trees...*

Desperately, she glanced around her surroundings once more, in vain hope that something had changed, something to break this unnatural monotony. She took in once more the walls of stone... a floor of stone... the only thing different was, as before, the plaster ceiling. Was there even a way out?

All she could see was the solid walls. Walls everywhere. Walls without end. No light, no sound, no warmth from without. No way out. Just bare stone walls, and shadows that were... growing closer?

Ginger felt a rush of sudden, maddening panic rush through her veins. A deadly terror welled up from the pit of her stomach as her eyes scanned the room. She tried to breathe, but only felt a constriction in her throat. She could hardly breathe, suddenly. She could feel something approaching her, slowly and menacingly. In contrast to before, time became faster and faster. The walls...

Closing you in... trapping you.. you’ll never get out... you can never escape... you can never escape!

The mare whimpered, her heartbeat like footsteps fast approaching, the thudding becoming louder and louder to her ears. The shadows were still on the edge of her vision, but she feared if she looked away for just a moment, they would envelop her completely. The beating of her heart sped up with every breath she took, tempo raising to a frenzied thudding against her chest, like a drumroll before an execution.

Make it stop, she thought, make it stop... Warmth... light... open air...

It was useless. She couldn’t close her eyes; she could just imagine those skulking shadows, slowly slithering towards her, ready to suffocate her, the space around her becoming smaller and smaller...

And then as soon as it had started, it stopped.

And somewhere, a door creaked open. And another shadow joined the darkness surrounding her. .