by Kris Shamloo
**
Even your name. You cannot take your name. Your most precious possession must stay behind. You have no identity in this place. Every muscle in my body convulsed as I heaved and sobbed outside the door of the room. I was pinned by the crushing weight of nothingness as every emotion ever felt in a lifetime ripped out of me. I fought and struggled with the demons of my mind for an eternity as I lay shaking against the granite floor. I was sweating and shivering at the same time. I was breathing ash while choking on bile.
How long had passed? The shaking had ended and I lay on the floor a vacant shell. Only the memory of my conversation in the room remained. The empty void that lingered in my mind before seemed more vacant and lonely than ever. I knew what I had done; I had torn through every shred of my previous existence that was offered to me in there. I was a glutton feasting on my own self. The hungering curiosity begged me to go back in, just my name it won't hurt so bad if I just learn my name. I reached for the door. No dammit.
The floor was still damp from my sweat and tears. How many times have I gone in there? How many times did I fail to resist the monumental urge to know who I was? Before I could repeat the mistake of entering the room I leapt for the granite pedestal. I removed the key and it rose painfully slowly.
There's still time to slip back down, there's still a chance to know who you are. I edged towards the closing gap. If I go back in there again I'll never leave. I shuddered at the thought of how long I had been down there, how many times had I turned back to the room? The conversation I could recite verbatim, the familiar pull of the door, the cozy feel of my cushioned chair. I can't go back.
The searing emptiness of the labyrinth reflected the emptiness of my mind. The hollowness of the void where my memories had lived was a painful scar in my mind. I swallowed against the lump in my throat. I didn't move to make progress; I stepped back into the inky darkness of the maze to escape the truth of the room, to escape myself. I placed my right hand back on the right wall. It led the way.
The distraction wasn’t working. My thoughts kept turning back to the room of reflection. I can't even know my name. Why can't I know my name? What the hell is this place? What did I do to be sent here? Who sent me here? I chewed on questions that didn't have answers for hours while I silently followed my right hand.
I rounded another corner in the maze to be greeted by the gentle glow of the spiraling walkway and the iron gate. The gate is still closed. I walked down the last hallway of the labyrinth towards the gate. What is that? I strained my eyes and senses towards the end of the tunnel.
There was something there. It was too far away to make out. I heard a whisper, a faint gurgling noise. I was fifty yards from the entrance when I finally could make out the outline of a man. I froze. It stood silently at the iron gate; it stared directly at me, but not with eyes. It stared at me with the plea of mercy, begging me to take pity on it.
I had no choice but to move towards it. As I got closer I could make out no face, it was wearing something dark that covered it from head to toe. The gurgling noise grew into a distinct sound of labored wet breathing. I was terrified. It just stood there, staring, waiting, piercing my being. What is that? Who is that? I moved closer. By the time I had mustered the courage to reach the brick archway I could make out the beast that stood opposite the gateway, waiting for me.
It was the shape of a man, covered in stained, wet burlap. It stood with the slumped pathetic posture of a frightened animal. Nothing but the shape of it was human, it was the same defeated husk I was when I had exited the room, only it lacked the will or strength to reclaim its humanity. It smelled terrible; the soggy strained breathing was the only hint of life. I stared at the burlap walking corpse and it stared back at me.
A few minutes passed and the creature remained motionless. The freezing feeling of fear I had felt when I first saw the creature had turned into a sad pity. What sort of existence is that? This thing has been stripped of everything of value and has been denied the asylum of death. I moved to the edge of the iron gate. With a sickening grinding noise the head of the creature turned towards me, following my movement. The switch that had let me into the labyrinth was still well out of reach. The creature just stared at me.
I couldn't even imagine the grotesque form that hid under the burlap, it was inconceivable. Every ounce of life has been taken from this man. I stopped, the memory of the journal entries jumped into my mind. I reached for the journal. The sickening bone grind of movement returned as the burlap man's arm reached through the iron bars at the journal in my hand. "This is yours isn't it?" I didn't expect a reply. He stood silently groping for the journal.
I reached it out to him cautiously; I could hardly stand the sight of this man let alone risk it touching me. The edge of the journal reached the loose burlap covering the man's hands. He grabbed it and pulled it tight to his chest. For a moment he stood there, relishing the return of his journal. Then with a symphony of sickening grinding and clicking he hobbled slowly towards the gate lever. The burlap man had set me free. I hope that journal can set you free.
I was as grateful to be released as I was to be rid of the burlap man. He clicked slowly past me into the dark labyrinth. The gate slammed shut behind him. I imagined the utter terror I would have felt if I had met that beast in the swallowing darkness, groping for his journal. As he turned his back to me for the first time I saw the origin of his pain, embedded in his spine and the base of his skull was a metal framework that resembled an iron snake. A stray drop of blood released its grip on the metal frame. He's still suffering. I wanted to help him, but I knew that his only respite would be death.
You're out now, focus on the present. It was difficult to turn myself back up towards the spiral. I looked at the black solace of the labyrinth. If it can hide him, it can hide me. The tease of the room of reflection put an ache in my chest.
The glass ring of fire in the antechamber greeted me warmly. Its heat and glow were comforting. The labyrinth gave me a greater appreciation for its beauty. The swirling details of the flame seemed to pop out at me. This place is changing me.