Dog

Previously

…But ready or not, the maze doesn't wait. The maze moves. And you move with it or you get stuck, and getting stuck in Level Four means standing in a shrinking room while the walls write your worst thoughts on themselves in handwriting you recognize but can't quite read. I moved. Down. Deeper. Into the tangle. The last thing I saw before the corridor swallowed me was a word forming on the wall ahead, written in a hand I didn't recognize — mine or my mother's or the maze's or all three at once, pressed together like hands folded in prayer no one was listening to: Deepen. So I deepened.