Mice and Men

Mice in mazes look for cheese. Their noses lead them to their prizes. They look through endless rows of dead ends for the nugget of gold: their dinner.

Adventures in mazes look for treasure. Their brains, brawn, and luck lead them to hidden vaults filled with golden nuggets; at the end of the maze they get paid. At the end of weeks in a soggy dungeon, days eating stale rations, and hours of fleeing from beasts summed from the pits of hell they get paid. Yet sometimes, they don’t.

Plavius stepped out of the trapdoor. He looked down at his once red boots and shook his head. They were never going to get dry. He left wet footprints on the ground as he walked into the abandoned cellar. It was dark except for the small lantern that he carried. On every wall the fine white lines of mortar sparkled with the thin silvery strands of spider’s nests. Spiders. Lots of spiders.

Plavius looked wearily at the hole as a round head came into view. A mass of bones and muscles followed it, covered with an ample amount of skin and hair. Gaius: the brawn of the team. He wore a shirt of chain. The bottom row of links were rusted and on his chest a few holes were punched out of the chain revealing a bloodstained shirt underneath.

“Bloody spiders.” He bemoaned to Plavius and stepped away to allow the last member of the team to enter the cellar.

Triminius looked around, saw the webs and his face drained of color. He sat down at the edge of the trapdoor and breathed deeply. The edges of his tunic were soggy. A small pack was slung over his shoulder. A thin copper tube hung at his belt, maps for the sewers.

Plavius glanced over at him and drily said, “I guess your map didn’t have any of these webs on here either?”

Triminius looked back raised his hands in the air and said: “I thought the map was joking when it said ‘Here be oodles of spiders.’”