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In the Maize
by Nicholas Bernhard
Amidst the wheeling music of the calliope and the acrid smell of burnt popcorn
the barker called one and all to the maze. I'd seen every carny from Tacoma to
Tupelo and nothing was throwing me. I wanted something new, and I was
beginning to wonder if 'new' even existed anymore.
I was surprised to find the quarter pass from my pocket to the barker's purse.
I dug my heels into dirt to no end as the dried corn stalks pulled me in and
the calliope fell silent behind me.
Now it hunts me through the maze. It is too dark to see down these long
passages, but when I hear the snap of fallen stalks under its claws I know it
has spotted me. Time does not pass here, a few evening stars hang shimmering
in the cold violet sky. Strange birds glide high above me. I walk towards the
lights of the Ferris Wheel but they never get closer. Sometimes I hear the cry
of the carny barker on the breeze, and someday it may lead me out of here.
It has seen me again. Time to run.
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