Everyone tends to lose themselves in the Maze. Not many people make it out, and the ones who do are never the same. For this very reason, the majority of the citizens of Murkgate didn't take part. This challenge was reserved for the desperate and/or idiotic.

Frankie was not an exception. The debt her family carried for centuries was all too consuming. Her family risked losing their house if she couldn't succeed. Although knowing what was at stake, apprehension, and doubt were taunting her.

To her left was a scrawny male. He had dirty blond hair, and his pale complexion was accentuated due to the blood draining from his face in utter fear.

A younger girl, probably no more than fifteen stood no higher than her breasts, or lack thereof. The girl's auburn hair was pulled back into a sloppy bun. Her crystal blue eyes were frantic, and Frankie couldn't help but wonder what brought her here of all places. She thought there was no way the innocent girl would survive the brutality of the Maze.

Nine other individuals stood around. One of which was massive. His biceps alone were the same circumference as his head. The veins popping from his forehead creeped her out. She made a note to stay out of his way.

Another woman was staring intensely at the vast greenery stretching out miles. Her green eyes didn't blink once. Frankie wondered what she could have been planning, but she knew she couldn't trust her no matter what.

Before she could eye anyone else up, a booming voice echoed over them. “Ladies and Gentleman…” Frankie saw a dark face appear out of the Maze. “Welcome, welcome, welcome! I hope we are all ready to have fun!” She gulped before he continued. “Shall we begin with some ground rules?”

“Wait! I thought there were no rules?” A young man, who seemed to be in his early twenties, inquired. His toned arm shot up in the air.

“Don't you worry? I only have one rule.” Everyone stared at the shadowy figure in anticipation. The apprehension thickened the air, making Frankie’s breathing more labored. “There are twelve of you participating in this year's Maze. There are typically many more applicants which is why I allow for multiple winners, but because of the lack of willing participants, I've decided on something new.”

“What?! That's so unfair,” a small blond teenager complained, placing her hand on her hip.

“QUIET! I do not care about your opinion, little girl,” the shadow spat. “Now, I have decided that since there are so few competitors, only one shall be permitted to win.” Gasps littered the air from pure shock. “The only exception is if no one succeeds.” His laugh haunted the space.

“Why are you doing this? Why make it harder?” The small blonde teenager whined once again. Frankie rolled her eyes. She didn't like the rule any more than anyone else, but she couldn't help feeling like fighting it would make things much worse for her.

Frankie knew she made the correct decision keeping her mouth shut when the shadowy figure appeared behind her, snapping her neck in a fluid motion. The blonde limply fell to the ground with a thud. “Holy shit!” the scrawny man on her left let out before frantically covering his mouth with his right hand. The shadowy figure eyed him but must have decided he wasn't worth his energy.

“When I call your name, enter. I will be going in no particular order…” He paused. “May!” the teenager from the right of her stepped forward. She was shaking, and Frankie wanted to reach out to her and comfort her. She knew she couldn't, though. The girl may have been a competitor, but her heart and sense of right and wrong were betraying her.

“Tamera…” No one moved. “Ah.” The shadowy figure glanced at the corpse and then continued. “Markham…” the boy who questioned the shadowy figure earlier strode towards the Maze, not looking back for a second.

“Vivienne…” A tall, slender woman with jet black, silky hair hauled forward. The next few names, Frankie watched as each entered. The shadow announced their names as “Tera… Dean… Penny… Melody… Barney… Gregory.”

The last opponent other than her was the giant man. “Warner…” He left Frankie all alone. “Frankie.” She moved forward and entered. There was a jolt that shocked her then she was surrounded by nothing but a green Maze stretching in every direction.

She couldn't see anything hinting the direction to go, so she went right. The vines and roots spreading towards her and snatching her ankles clued her to realize she had chosen wrong. Frankie grasped at the vines twisting tighter and tighter. She felt her skin start to rip underneath the death grip.

Her breathing quickened, and her movements became more frantic as they started dragging her towards the greenery. She began to feel as though this was where her journey ended. How sad that she couldn't even make it five minutes.

Her eyes, filling with tears, started to blur so much with frustration, desperation, and slightly from the pain that she didn't even notice the knife fly in her direction, severing the vines enveloping her ankles. She may not have seen it, but she felt the sweet release. Her body hauled away, sprinting the other direction.

Frankie made it several hundred yards without stopping to catch her breath. This is when she noticed someone was pursuing her. She jolted in surprise, still trying to catch her breath. They were in an open area, clearly a dead end. “Fuck,” Frankie whispered inaudible. This is where she was going to die was running in her brain over and over, and the knife her stalker held in his hands only cemented that idea in her mind.

“Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you,” the man explained. “I want to help.”

Frankie frowned, confused to say the least. “Why?” She was short with him.

“I think we can help each other,” the man seemed to be pleading for her to listen. “Look, I don't know if you remember me or not, but I remember you.”

Frankie just stood there, urging him to continue.

“Look, both of us know for a fact this Maze is more than just physical… its mental too.” His gaze hardened. “You were in my class last year. You were the smartest one in there!” His statement sparked something in Frankie to remember him.

“Barney! Oh my God!” Frankies eyes widened in shock. The boy she remembered in class was so petite his clothes were always baggy on him. His hair used to be long. Now, the boy was only recognizable to her due to his face being completely the same but clear from acne now. He filled his shirt out now with his toned arms.

“Yup! That's me!” He flipped the knife in the air and caught it from the blade end.

“So you're proposing a brain and brawn kinda alliance then?” Frankie questioned.

“Exactly!” Barney exclaimed. “Look, some of these competitors are no joke. We'd fair better if we worked together.”

“But what about…” Frankie started, but Barney cut her off.

“If it comes down to you and me, then we hash it out then, but lets face it, there's no way either of us survive long enough without helping eachpther out.” He made a good point in Frankie’s mind.

“Ok, then lets get moving,” Frankie suggested.

They walked for hours, both of them had their senses on full alert. Frankie used the knife Barney had given her to fight off the vines that sprung out of the shrubs from time to time. Then they came to a circular clearing.

“What the fuck! What do we do now?” Barney threw his hands up in resentment.

“I guess we turn back and go the other way?” Frankie proposed, feeling exhausted.

“Why would you turn around when you could play a little game with me?” A creepy voice reverberated around the space, sending trickles of electricity throughout Frankie’s body.

The duo turned around to face the voice. A small creature stood at two feet tall only a couple yards from them. Barney whispered to Frankie “don't trust this one. It’s an imp.”

Frankie was astonished. Imps were rare, mischeivious tiny devils. This one had twisting horns picking out from the m the top of his head. The bat wings were disturbing, but the sharp teeth protruding in multiple directions was the cherry on top. The yellow tinged teeth, the same color as its claws. Its blood shot eyes stared them down eagerly. No doubt waiting to sink its teeth into their flesh.

“What do you want, Demon?” Barney confronted.

“Ah, I surely just wanted to help you poor lost souls.” Its grin widened unnaturally. “I’ll show you the way.” He raised his hand, and three doors appeared. “I’ll give you a hint, one door will bring you a step closer to the end but beware. You pick the wrong door, you end up in front of a deadly beast or maybe another competitor.”

“How do we know which is which?” Frankie stressed.

Then the imp started chanting.

“Choose wisely, mortals, for you have a choice. Each door, a portal to the unknown. Behind one door lies a beast. Obsideon claws and jaws awaiting to tear flesh, Its stomach a bottomless pit. You will hear no sound before the horror, No roar nor bellow you will know. Just the rustle and whisper of death will linger.

Behind another will lead you astray. Another competitor you will join. You'll fair no chance, Only an echo of your absence will remain. Me however, entertained by your choice.

The last door will lead you right. Listen to your gut, your instincts are true. If you stop and listen, you will be rewarded. If you fail, you know the risks.”

“Follow our gut? Really?” Barney turned to Frankie.. “What kind of stupid bullshit…” He shook his head violently.

Frankie, however, couldn't help but feel a pull, like gravity. Her feet moved out of their own volition bringing her in front of the middle door. She brought her hand to the handle, but felt the flesh blister under intense heat.

Without thinking, Barney followed her, touching the handle, but nothing happened. Frankie stopped him as he began to turn the handle. “This isn't the one,” she clarified.

“What? How do you know?” He asked incredulously.

“I… just do.” She glided to the next door. This one felt different, darker. There was something off. She even saw the imp giggle as if nudging her to open it. She figured she better not if a legit devil was encouraging it.

The last door felt off as well, but Frankie couldn't pin point exactly why. This one at least didn't burn her nor did the imp seem all to excited. “This one?” She claimed.

“I hope this works,” Barney pleaded.

The step through was nauseating, but they were transported to what seemed like simply a different part of the Maze. “Do you suppose we picked correctly?” Frankie asked.

“You picked perfectly!” A gruff voice taunted.

“Shit,” the duo said in sync.

The two turned around in time for Barney to dodge a hook. The competitor, was lean, but had bulging biceps. The sweat flung off in multiple dirctions as he sent punch after punch, a couple landing harshly on Barney’s face. She watched as the inflammation and bruising set in almost immediately.

Then something else stirred behind her. The rustle of the leaves was unmistakeable. She spun on her heels and had to dive to her right, narrowly missing a knife thrown at her head. She felt blood trickle down her neck, realizing the knife must have knicked her ear.

The competitor, who she recognized as the young teenager she spotted before the Maze had started, made an action to jump on top of her. Toaoidher, she kicked up, making contact with her ribs.

With every bad deed I do, my body changes.

I discovered this when I first killed my brother. I’m not sure what drove me to do it. He was so loud and I just wanted him to shut up for good.

My first kill was sloppy and messy. We were in he forest and I pulled out a gun on him. The gun we used for protection. Incase a bear or wild animal attacked us.

In that moment, Max WAS an animal. And I was the hunter.

I threw his body in the river. Cleaned the gun. Burned his clothes. Burned my own clothes. And no one ever found out.

Except… my hands began to change. My nails grew long and sharp and I began to grow fur around my knuckles.

My next victim was my boss. Once I killed him, my legs bent backwards and I gained an extra joint in my knees.

The third was my girlfriend. My eyes turned yellow and my pupils became black slits, like a cats.

The fourth was my friend. I gained a long, fluffy tail.

I’ve always found humans to be too dull. Some may view my new body as punishment. But I am stronger than I ever was.

The worlds spinning

I feel different

I don’t understand

Why is this happening

What’s happening

I don’t like this

I’m turning weird

My face is melting

I’m turning into something more

Something elsewise

More than anything

A weird creature

Wrapped around in vines and veins

The tiredness fades away

The alleyway is becoming foggy

I forgot everything

My names off the record

I spin on a player

I am played at different speeds and volumes

You can pretend that your normal. You can pretend you are not insane. You can pretend that you are the hero. You can never be any of these things though. Normal can’t be defined, insane is your virtue, and heroes are stupid fantasies. I’m sorry but it's true. You can’t deny it. What you can deny is that you're not rooting for anyone. Don’t root for anyone, cause the roots will become you. Just like ME.

It was a normal school day. Or mostly normal. It felt as though I was having a bad hair day, everyone looked away. It was the football game today and I was rooting for my friend, Henry. Then I looked in the mirror. My hair was moss. Weird. Then I realized that it was my other friend's art contest day. I was rooting for her. Tree roots covered me. “What the “ A girl walked into the bathroom. She screamed. It was my best friend. I couldn’t move. The roots held me to the floor.

I was stuck there forever, I grew taller every day, and my age was unknown. No one knew me. They just hid and said, “What if that's me?” People called me ME. Teachers said I was a warning to never lie. Don’t know where that came from. As the years passed, I became a horror story and people stopped going to the school. If anyone explored and saw me, my roots would suck the life out of them. Human blood is tasty.

They started running the school again, and I killed all of the female students. They made it a male school. I killed all of the male students. They made it an adult school. I killed everyone. The school kept trying to run. It was burned one day and I went down with it.

Be careful. Never root for someone. ME still is here. Shes you.

Was this a blessing? A curse? A punishment perhaps? Or.. or was this a responsibility? Thinking was so very difficult while standing on watch. The fighting has finally come to an end. I stand watch and my body returns to the forest around me. An exhalation of breath, and then a stillness overtakes my body that is so absolute it is as if Time itself has lost sight of me within the woods.

That is the cycle. We watch, we wake, we inhale, we fight for however long we are needed, then we exhale. A single breath spent on a war. Then we watch again.

The countless years drift by and I forget. I forget who I was. I forget the sweet relief there was in something as simple as breathing.

With great effort, I think.

Two hundred fifty years have passed since my last true inhalation of air, since wind and oxygen and relief graced my lips. The fighting lasted a very long time this cycle. Longer even since I was last granted the right to exhale.

I stand watch. We stand watch while our people hide and survive and live.

Another hundred years pass without incident while I ponder my last breath. We are not even the first line of defense. The trees around us bear that burden. A forest so immense and dense even the light of the sun does not filter to the ground. But are we not the trees as well? My legs are rooted in place, my arms spread wide in defense of a place I love. I stand tall and proud, keeping watch with eyes unblinking and focused ahead. Is that not the same?

With great effort, I remember.

We were told there would be a cost. My brothers and I. Our humanity to become immortal. It seemed simple at the time. I don’t think any of us truly understood what it would mean to pay that price; or how immortality itself would weight on us. Except maybe Sylas. He was so young and yet always so wise.

Centuries ago my people waged wars among each other. Warfare was an artform we excelled at. Yet, the war had grown too violent and the bloodshed so endless that we decided the conflict was no longer worth the price. My people sought peace for what felt like the first time in our existence. We sought older gods and magic older still to achive that peace. We had hoped to step away from the war.

Instead we had to step away from the world entirely.

I barely remember the ritual itself. The memory and trauma of the experience has been stripped from my mind by the years. Time, it appears, can erode more than just the world around us. I do, however, remember all the many years since. Especially, those first incursions.

We were killed. Deliberately. Our souls and bodies offered up to Gaia herself and the forest around us. We served up our mortality with the last of our hope. Our offering was accepted.

And in acceptance we were changed.

The transformation was not pleasant. Our blood coagulated, thickened, and slowed. It changed into something more akin to tree sap than blood. It was infused with raw power. The power of the world around us flowed directly into us. The strength of our people infused our very essence.

Our limbs elongated painfully, our bones twisted and thickened and shifted, reforming like iron between hammer and anvil. Our skin calcified, hardening into a wood so strong and ancient that even cold iron could not harm us. We became a force of nature herself. Significantly stronger, and significantly less human than we initially expected.

When our enemies came searching for us they were not prepared.

My brothers and I were chosen because of our prowess in battle. I remember a tournament. A great contest to help determine champions. I may be biased, but I believe my people chose correctly. Even before the transformation, the seven of us fought like men possessed. We were more skilled in blade and bow than any mortal had the right to be. Now, though, now we were something else entirely.

Unfailing, unflinching, and undying.

Faster. Stronger. Better.

We swept through the men that came for our home like they were crops to be reaped and sown. Their blades broke upon our skin, and their bodies broke beneath our blades. We could step between the trees themselves, miles traversed in seconds, and battles engaged and won before the enemy even knew we were there. Because of course we were there. We were everywhere. We were the trees.

If, somehow, we were cut down, the trees themselves would regrow our bodies. Immortality provided a better defense than any shield could offer. Seven brothers stood against an army and the army broke first. In the end seven brothers still stood.

When they came again, they were broken again. And again. And again. Centuries would pass punctuated only with brutality and death. Until finally, our enemies relented. They offered peace and let us rest. For a time at least.

The decades passed by, and when they came again, because of course they did, only six brothers rose to meet them. Erik, our most thoughtful brother, had lost the will to fight. Time, it appears, can erode more than we expected

Six of us were still more than enough. Though not entirely. War had finally claimed one of us. We had grown overconfident and immortality had sown the seeds of hubris. Centuries of peace had let it fester. Peter, the most rash of us all had overextended, hoping to strike at our enemies as the fled the fortress that was our forest. Alone, outside of the safety of the trees’ embrace for the first time, he fell to blade and flame like any man.

The trees could not regrow what they could not touch.

I can sense that Peter’s death has taken a toll on my brothers. We were connected in a way that defied reason. Interlinked, reborn, reforged and cultivated together. How many trees did it take before they were no longer defined as trees but as a forest? It’s interesting how many things can become singular. I do not expect my brothers to wake the next time we are needed.

I will.

It was more than a sense of duty. It was in my very nature to protect those I loved, and now more than ever I could not go against my nature. Not when my brothers now counted themselves among the ones who needed my protection.

I will stand watch. I will wake, I will fill my lungs with air, and I will fight.

One brother will have to be enough.

It has been weeks since the attack. The gnarled wound has only gotten worse — where it first wept blood it now leaks black ichor; part of it is always open, always shedding that foul liquid. Some of the wound has healed in warped, scaled scabs… the veins surrounding the slash are dark and bulging. It has an odor akin to rotting meat mixed with something acidic, sour.

But it wasn’t all bad. I no longer need my glasses. Everything that was once blurry I see in unmistakable high-defintiton. Colors are brighter, too; almost more vivid, even on a dreary day. It’s not just my sight, but every other sense has heightened. Yesterday, I was able to correctly guess what Alan had for breakfast based on his breath from across the room at around 4 o’clock. It’s not like he stank of coffee, sausage, and eggs… but I could smell it with such clarity. Some foods I can tell are fresher than others, too. It’s like I’m becoming hypersensitive. The most annoying had to be my hearing. Everything was so… loud, no matter what time of day. I can hear my neighbors bicker with each other before bed through my walls; I can hear someone’s tv playing reruns of old sitcoms above me at a level of detail I just do not care for.

I wasn’t expecting the teeth, though. I had first discovered my newfound fangs about a week in after some near migraine-inducing pain that ended with my canines just falling out into the sink while I brushed my teeth one morning. I panicked, of course… dentistry is expensive, plus I hadn’t done anything to provoke losing two teeth at once! As I squabbled with myself I noticed blood pooling in my mouth… I spit, rinsed, and checked my mouth to find two pricks of teeth rapidly pushing through the gums. In awe I watched them quickly fill in the gaps left by my old teeth within a span of maybe two minutes. I’m used to them now, for the most part… lets just say biting your tongue is now twice as fun with fangs.

Taking care of the wound is tricky. I can’t go to a doctor again after visiting the ER weeks ago and getting laughed at point-bank because I said I was attacked by a monster in the woods. Stupid, I never should have admitted that. They tried to put me in the psych ward and label my wound as self-inflected. Um, no? It hurts, though. Like a burning ache that drills into the bone and sinew. I go through multiple wraps a day as the black blood seeps through the bandages at a rate I can barely keep up with…

Just what attacked me?

I don’t remember much about that night. It was late and I took the woods as a short-cut to my apartment complex after having a few drinks with my coworkers. It wasn’t a big deal, I did it all the time — I knew the woods like the back of my hand. Or at least, I thought I did. I wasn’t exactly drunk out of my mind… but I was a little more that buzzed. All I truly recall is making my way about a third in, hearing a twig snap near me and then a big, shadowy figure appearing behind me when I turned. It was amorphous, like liquid night, with two piercing yellow pin-prick eyes. It stared at me and I stared at it. Then I screamed and everything happened so fast.

I was thrown to the forest floor with such a force all the air within me escaped me. Sharp, wet claws gripped my sides, anchoring me to the ground as I struggled violently albeit uselessly against the monster. I kept screaming until a slimey goo-ridden hand was slapped over my mouth, muffling any noise I made. Then there was a sharp pain in my arm and like the wind it vanished… leaving me bloody and covered in black tar in the dirt.

I’ve rolled around the memory in my mind multiple times, but I can’t really pin-point what the monster was. Werewolf? No, not exactly. Alien? Perhaps, but I can’t be too sure.

All I know is that I’m changing… and with each passing day I learn something new about the predicament of my new life. I will never be the same.

I’ll never be human again.

But is that such a bad thing? If you were to ask me how I’d react to slowly turning into a creature I’d probably say I’d panic… but, I’m not panicking. At most I feel mildly inconvenienced, mostly due to the wound on my arm. Did the monster in the woods even mean to attack me? Maybe I could find it again and ask… who knows?

All I do know is I’m changing and fast… and if there’s any more physical traits associated with this change — like turning into a slimy shadow monster — I’m going to have to find a way out of town.

My life is changing and I need to adapt.

I’m no longer human, but my will to survive is still strong.

It was happening again, my skin turning blue my eyes burning like fire and my hands covered in blood. I started to freeze, I couldn’t move my legs, then my arms, then my head. I was still like a statue.

All of a sudden my body was burning like I had fallen in a pit of lava, my legs, then my arms, the my head. Nothing felt right. I didn’t know what to do so I ran, into the woods where something worse happened.

I became one with the trees, my body was trembling, my heart rate spiked. My feet became roots, my legs became a trunk, my arms became branches and my hair became leafs. I didn’t know what to do.

I had faded from mankind. I was truly on with nature.

I cry then I cut. Three cuts on my wrist. Swollen and sore. I try to hide them. No one has asked if I’m okay. I’m not and I need help. I need someone to be here for me and take away my burdens. The voices keep telling me that I’m not good enough and that I should give up. Help me…

I feel my arms aching and my legs burning. Everything is moving, burning and changing. My eyes water with the pain that stings my arms as the vains pump up and expose every line that exist within. Every piece of my insides start to push forward, showing what I’m made of nothing is going to save me from this indescribable pain. Im wishing that I was home in my bed without the thought of getting out of it today. My eyes start to bulge and my vision starts to go black. Nothing is left but the feeling of everything shifting in my body fitting what feels like a new skeleton forming. What could I have done? One moment I was walking through the street to work and now I don’t even know if Ill live to see another day. All of a sudden I’m stuck like cement burning and twisting and contorting. I breathe slowly and regain footing as my body is adjusting to the new form I’ve taken my eyes sink back into my sockets and I know everything is changed.

My face is paralyzed. The doctors don’t understand why. They say I had a palsy on one side and then a stroke on top of it. I dream of before all this happened. When I could walk into a grocery store and be greeted by smiles and nods. When I could laugh and flirt and wink. So much I took for granted. I look in the mirror and it doesn’t look like my face anymore. The skin droops down below my eyes. My lips and beard sag down from my teeth. When I try and eat, the food just slops in and I only get part of it. I try and tilt my head back and chew as hard as I can. I drink a lot of protein shakes for nutrition. Every time my wife looks at me, she has to look away. I can see the tears in her eyes and it makes me so upset. I’m not who she married. She can’t recognize who I am. My voice is muffled; it doesn’t sound like my voice. I can barely talk. It’s hard to appreciate how much your lips and mouth shape your speech until you lose all control over them. But behind this mask, I’m still here. I see everything. I hear everything. I can still read, and think, and write. Maybe this is the price of knowledge. I know a secret few others do: people love you only as much as they like looking at you, only as much as you fulfill their fantasies. When you can’t do that anymore, and become a burden, they’ll slip away, one by one, until you’re left alone and totally solitary. I know that love and family are a lie. You take a person’s face away and they might as well be dead. I’m not who I was before this illness happened. This is better than what I had before. That was all lies and illusion. Now when I look through this mask I see who people really are, how they treat someone who they don’t think is even human. I’ve learned what humanity is really worth.