The Labyrinth: Ginger's Story

The Labyrinth

Ginger’s Story: Part I

Exploration

Creeeeak. Ginger sat in the darkness, shivering, face covered by her hooves, when everything around her simply... stopped. There was nothing around her. No shadows crushing upon her. No sound but her throbbing heartbeat.

I... think I’m safe...

Ginger uncovered her eyes, glancing warily around the room. She didn’t think for a minute that she was perfectly safe, but... at least that strange attack had passed. She took a deep breath and looked down at her shaking hooves.

Whatever that was... it... wasn’t real. Get a grip on yourself Ginger; you will get out of here!

A newly-ignited sense of either courage or foolhardiness stirred inside her, and she took a few more breaths to calm herself before rising to her hooves. She knew she had heard a creak, like rusty hinges on an old door. But from where, she could not tell. Spurred on by her sudden boldness, she trotted to the far wall of her cell, feeling the rough stone for a crevice or hole of some sort. There had to be a way out of here somehow; there was no way she could have just appeared in a room with four solid walls.

There has to be some kind of illusion on the walls, something making me think it’s completely solid-

Creeeak. Ginger nearly recoiled in shock. Where was that coming from? Was it above her? Was she simply dropped in here through a trapdoor, like an oubliette in the dungeons of the tribal era’s castles? The thought gave her pause; if the ceiling was the only way out, she might never...

Creeeeak! Ginger’s eyes snapped to glance over her shoulder instinctively, as if dreading something would be coming at her from behind. Her eyes travelled all along the stone surface of the opposite wall, checking to see if anything had changed.

Stone blocks, cracked stone blocks, mouldy plaster, chipped mortar, small barred door-

She was pretty sure that door hadn’t been there before. No, she was positive it hadn’t been. But now, she couldn’t deny it; where there had previously been only a solid stone wall was now a door of iron bars, cracked slightly with the door opened towards her. On the ground beside it was an iron padlock, looking as if it hadn’t been used in nearly a decade.

Well, Ginger, there’s your way out. Are you just going to stand here gawking at it, or actually leave this little... hole?

The mare didn’t have to think twice, though she reminded herself to proceed with caution. Picking up the candle from the floor with her hoof, she took one more glimpse of her cell before exiting, her fear now tempered by a faint amount of hope.

And behind her, the door silently shut. And another shadow followed the mare in the darkness...

*****

The stale, freezing air assaulted Ginger’s already numb nerve endings as she stepped outside her cell. She had to have been far underground, she supposed, if the frigid air was any indication. Unsettling as the idea was, she knew that the only way out of this place was up.

Just ignore the cold air, the probably centuries-old stone ceiling above you, ready to collapse at any moment, the complete lack of light besides the one cast by your candle...

Ginger bit her lip and trotted along what appeared to be some kind of tunnel, the only sound the faint whistling of wind, the clopping of her hooves on the stone floor, and her own laboured breathing. She could only see where she was going by the flickering light emanating from her candle onto the walls, refusing to take notice of the shadows that momentarily flickered across the rough surface.

I’m not going to look, it’s... I... I’m not looking, I’m not. Eyes ahead, Ginger. Eyes ahead.

And yet, every few seconds she could barely repulse the urge to glance over her shoulder. She wasn’t paranoid, not exactly; but this situation was certainly creepy enough for her  to stay on her guard. But somewhere in her mind, she knew she couldn’t look back. If she did... well, she didn’t want to imagine things worse than what she had already. She knew the images conjured up by a wild imagination could terrify her even more than the likely reality.

Maybe... maybe this whole thing is still in my imagination... just... in my head, right.

“It’s all just in your head, Ginger.” The mare sighed and closed her eyes briefly, taking a moment to hope that those words were true. If it was, she knew would just come out of this... extended hallucination traumatised, but with her health intact. “It’s all just in your head...”

And then, she stopped suddenly, frozen in place, eyes peering straight into the darkness ahead.

She hadn’t opened her mouth to speak.

Her eyes widened as she glanced from side to side for a moment, not allowing her gaze to linger too long. Her ears were perked, her breathing slow and quiet. She didn’t want to give herself away, though the logical part of her mind told her that her candle’s light would have done so already. Taking a gulp of the frigid air, she opened her mouth slightly this time. “H-hello? Is somepony there? Is anypony in here?”

The sound bounced off the walls, an eerie echo making its way down the tunnel until it faded into silence. Hello... hello...  hello... somepony there... there... here... Ginger listened hard, being as quiet as possible so that she might hear a response.

But, it seemed, there was nothing there.

There’s nothing here... of course there’s nothing here, Ginger. You’re just ... imagining things again...

“I’m just imagining things,” she repeated in a whisper, not sure whether she was telling herself that or asking. She waited one more moment, stealing glimpses of the walls just to see where she was going, then turned her eyes back to the tunnel.

Regaining a modicum of nerve, she continued forward into the gloom, eyes fixed on the darkness ahead. But she didn’t look back. Not once.

I... can’t...

*****

The corridor she was in finally ended with something comforting-- a door. Just an innocuous, plain wooden door, like one to a closet or a storage room.

A door like that, there has to be somepony nearby, right? I... I have to be nearly out of here.

Suddenly, she felt a gust of cold air hit her, the cold trailing down her body like an icy caress, as the flame of her candle flickered slightly. Ginger halted, not moving an inch.

What the...? Just the wind, Ginger, it’s just the wind! Keep going...

I... can’t! I have to see; I have to make sure-

Make sure of what? That something’s not out there, lurking in the darkness, following you?

Exactly! I have to know-

You just spent the entire way here trying NOT to look into the shadows, trying NOT to look back. For Concordia’s sake, use some common sense and just go on.

But... I... I HAVE to...

Go.

Ginger finally forced herself to keep her eyes on the door ahead of her,  preparing herself to run if necessary. There had to be some kind of unholy force trying to convince her to look back. She just knew it.

But I won’t give in.

Steeling herself, she hesitantly opened the door, waiting with bated breath, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. The door swung steadily open, the scraping and creaking of old hinges strangely amplified in the quiet. It opened wider and wider, like the jaws of some vast demonic creature yawning before devouring its victim.

But the danger never came.

Beyond the open door was only more darkness. Suddenly feeling both relieved and a little silly at her overreaction to the opening door, she stepped over the threshold of the door, and onto the first step in what seemed to be a long staircase.

This is ridiculous; gasping and hiding from shadows? This is a staircase; it can only lead up-- and more importantly, out of here!

With a fresh restoration of her courage, Ginger kept her candle in hoof as she ascended the stairway that would hopefully lead her out.

And as the sound of her hoofsteps died behind her, the door slowly creaked closed, and the tiniest whisper was heard from under the door.

“I’m here....”