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Flash fiction: Lost in a maze

by Karen Kalbacher

Created on: September 01, 2011

It's never good to be lost. High walls surrounded Alison’s petite form, hardly taller than five foot; she nervously ran a hand along a wall covered in gray canvas fabric. Her nail scratched the surface coming away blackened with years worth of dead skin and dust. She decided to make a right at the next junction and try making all rights for a while.

The ploy almost worked as she turned and found not another hotbed of gray dirty walls but a copier machine and a forlorn recycling bucket. Hope renewed she accidentally made a left and found herself once more in the maze. She bit a nail nervously and resisted the urge to spit. It was the dirt encrusted one and it tasted bitter. Alison cursed, backtracked to the copier and went left.

The walls muffled sound yet somewhere someone was using a stapler. She would have followed the sound but feared it was like being deep in pipes where sound bounced. Alison took a ten second temper tantrum by slapping the nearest wall regretting it immediately as a fine dust rain coated her, turning her shiny chestnut hair mousy and her dove silk shirt mousier.

Three more lefts and one right ended with her by the copier machine. Four more rights and she found a water cooler. A left, right, left approach ended her back near the copier and she felt pricks behind her eyes as she fought off the frustration. Again she banged on a wall. Again more debris was dumped on her head. But this time a voice called out, “Are you new?”

“Yes,” she breathed in relief. “Alison Martin, and I am new and I am so lost.” A man popped up and he was so tall and lean and covered in fine gray dust that he appeared to almost blend into the walls. His eyes were bright and friendly but ringed in red. “Follow me.” Alison tried to keep track but in seconds she was lost and confused once more. If he had decided to leave here there she would have been screwed. Finally the walls opened up into a cubicle with anemic lights, an old computer and some papers tacked to the wall.

There was one bright spot: on the desk, tied with a scarlet ribbon, was a great big cheese platter.

The End.


Learn more about this author, Karen Kalbacher.
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