Fiction - Page 7

Lili Forgács

I had almost finished. Just one more question, or at most two. The middle-aged ladies who interviewed me were really nice. Both of them smiled; the blond one noted down something I said before, the other one, wearing glasses, looked at me and sipped from her mug. She was drinking coffee, I could smell it.

“Well, Ms Johnston, we are almost done,” the blondy broke the silence while organizing her papers on the desk. “Your CV sounds really appealing, you  seem to meet all the requirements, but before you get the job, you have to give an answer to this simple question: What is a straight labyrinth?” At this final part, she lifted her head and looked me in the eyes.

“A straight labyrinth?” I asked back in a shaking voice, feeling all the colour running out of my face. I knew I had broken the image, with that simple sign of desperation, I had built up so far: the ambitious and self-assured woman who can answer all the questions that are asked. Now, I was just sitting there, in front of the two nodding ladies, left speechless.

“Please, answer it now or never, we cannot sit here and wait all day,” one of them said after a few moments. I don’t know which one, I couldn’t see anything, I just felt my brain working. Come on Lydia Johnston, let’s say something clever. But I couldn’t. I started panicking. What if I ruin everything at the very end? I couldn’t stand it.

“Khm” clearing my voice is a good start I guess. “I think the straight labyrinth is nothing else but… life,” I said out loud the first thing that came into my mind. I didn’t care about the interviewers’ reaction, just continued. “At the beginning of life we all know what the end will be: death. Everybody dies, we cannot avoid or run away from it. That’s a straight road. However, none of us goes along that one. Every decision we make leads to the final destination, but on different routes. There are no alike routes, as there are no alike people. We cannot tell who is on the right way and who is not. Is there a right way or a bad way at all? Can we distinguish them? I don’t know, and I don’t know either if it counts in the end which I chose, as we all will leave the bus at the same stop. But I want to go along the labyrinth on my way. The way of which I will be proud on the day I die.”

As I finished I got no response. The two women just sat in front of me without any movement or speech. I just heard their breathings and counted mine. Maybe I was too passionate. I might have said something that I wasn’t supposed to. Or I might have misunderstood the task. I was having such thoughts when the two ladies nodded at each other and said simultaneously: “Welcome to the New York Times, Ms. Johnston.”

Hunor Gangel

So, please tell me about your dream and your evening that day — said the therapist to Serena.

— It was like any other night. After having dinner I sat down in the living room to watch some TV. Then when my favorite show ended I went to bed because I had to go to work early the next day. I usually don’t remember my dreams but this one was different. I remember it perfectly. So after I fell asleep, I found myself in a sort of dungeon. It was very strange, since it was a straight corridor with a glowing exit sign at the end, with three gates separating me from it.

— A corridor with gates and an exit sign? — asked the therapist while scribbling something on a pad. — Yeah, I know it’s very strange — said Serena.

— Please continue with the dream.

— Alright, where was I? Oh right, the gates.

— So there were also two passages to the side next to each gate with signs showing that the keys of the gate were to be found there. After observing my situation, I was determined to get out of there. After some deliberation I decided to go into one of the passages and was surprised to find out it was a labyrinth. After wandering through it for some time I found a key lying on the floor. I assumed it was for the gate, so I went back to it. I tried to open the gate but to my surprise it had two keyholes. I thought “Great, now I have to go into the other passage as well.” So I did. It was also a labyrinth, very similar to the previous one but with a different layout. After finding the end, I quickly took the key and rushed back to the gate to open it. I was delighted for a second when it opened, but this quickly changed to dread when I saw that at the end of the next two passages there were puzzles. One of them was one of those puzzles where you have to slide tiles to make out a picture, but with numbers, and I had to arrange them in ascending order. I solved that one pretty easily, but it was the other puzzle that had me worried. It was sudoku, which I always sucked at. Luckily after a lot of struggling I felt something in my pocket that wasn’t there before. It was a piece of paper with the solution to the puzzle.

— A piece of paper with the solution just appeared in your pocket? — said the therapist, raising an eyebrow.

— Yes — said Serena.

— Alright, let’s just continue with your dream.

— OK. So after I solved the sudoku puzzle, a slot opened with the key inside it, and the same happened with the other puzzle as well. After opening the gate with my two new keys, I was prepared to find the worst obstacles in the next passages next to the last gate, but it was even worse than that. One of the sides had a free key, but the other one was an obstacle course just like in ninja warrior, but with spikes under it. After some reasoning I decided to go for it and try to do the course, since it was all a dream. That was the worst decision I ever made. After nearly failing the first obstacle, the dream started feeling very real. I lost my balance and tripped over. Then I started falling towards the spiky floor. Before hitting the floor I woke up in a cold sweat. Since then I have barely been able to sleep.

— Hmm. What was that show you watched before going to sleep?

— It was Ninja Warrior, — said Serena, a bit surprised by the connection the therapist made.

— Maybe you should try watching less TV and going to sleep at the same time every night, and let’s see how your sleeping habits change.

Helka Ondok

Amelia Smith was an eighteen-year-old girl who had the “perfect” life. She had a great family and social life, she was a good student, and she played the sport she loved. But underneath it all, she was not happy. All she wanted to do was to fall asleep and find her true happiness in her dreams.

She never thought that her depression could get this bad. She felt guilty, because even though she had everything, she still dreamt about not existing.

Carlos Hart was an old man. Life had always been cruel to him. He had never had a family or a constant job. He spent most of his days alone, or with some new people he had met that day. His life was like a maze, where he didn’t know whether the next day would be better or not, but after all of this, he still fell in love with life.

Even though they had completely different lives, when their time came, they walked through the same door, in the direction of the bright light which led them towards the unknown.

Gréta Tóth

Welcome! Please sit back and relax until we take care of your documents. I will be back in a few minutes. Enjoy your time here!

— Excuse me Sir, wait please. What is this place and why am I here?

— I’m afraid that I am not the right person to tell you. — and with that, the blond man hurried away towards a long, narrow corridor which seemed never-ending compared to the small, light-filled room that offered only a coffee table and a comfortable couch. The walls were painted light yellow, similar to the color of the sun on a bright day in May. Everything felt warm and peaceful.

— Samuel Anderson! — the man, who hurried away a few seconds ago, called out from the very end of the corridor. — The principal is ready to meet you. — The assistant waited patiently until the young man reached the office, and opened the door for him. This room was much bigger than the previous one, but it radiated the same calm energy. Next to the door, huge bookshelves stood piled with leather-covered journals and books. The other side of the room was occupied by an enormous tree whose branches covered the whole ceiling.

— Good morning, Sammy! — a familiar man greeted Sam as he entered the room. He knew he had seen him before. Even the nickname seemed close: he could recall his mother calling him Sammy when he was young, yet there was no way this man could have known about it. — You have grown so much since I last saw you here. How old are you exactly?

— I just turned 18 a few days ago. Excuse me, Sir, but….

— Oh dear — the man interrupted Sam before he could say anything. — I really wished we would meet quite a few years later.

— But why? And where am I? What is this place? — Sam was in complete confusion, but he still felt calm. He did not mind being here, even though he had no clue about anything.

— Deep down, I really hoped that I would never have to explain it to you. Sammy, do you know what a labyrinth is, apart from a maze where you can get lost? — The young man decided to shake his head instead of answering, eager to get the answers to his questions as soon as possible. — Well, your life is a labyrinth that you build up. There are constantly problems and events in one’s life that create the labyrinth. Every possible solution is represented by a new direction in which you can travel. The only rule is that you have to make a decision before you can go and continue your life. Sometimes, accidents happen and the labyrinths are destroyed by someone else, which means that a person had no other choice and it was not a result of a wrong turn in the maze, or they still have a chance to make another turn, they just need some directions. If these accidents happen, people are sent to us and we have the right to influence the outcome of the situation. About seventeen years ago, a terrible car crash happened caused by a drunk driver. Only a boy was sent to us, since he still had a small chance of survival, but both parents died on the spot. The community decided to revive his labyrinth, and Samuel Anderson was sent back to Earth.

— So I was here seventeen years ago? And you sent me back? Is that even possible? If it is, then why am I here now?

— Because you violated the only rule of the maze: the ‘Straight Labyrinth’ — said the man with warm eyes, looking at him with as much love as if Sam were his own son.

— Straight Labyrinth? — Sam was completely lost at this point. So much new information at a time, and it all seemed unbelievable.

— In a labyrinth you have to take turns every now and then, sometimes there are hundreds of roads that you can pick or just two, it does not matter. Going straight in the labyrinth means that you did not make a choice at all and you got lost in your life. — Sam still did not understand what the man was trying to say, but what he said next took him by surprise.

— This morning, around 5:40, you attempted to end your own life by jumping off a bridge in your neighbourhood.— and it all suddenly came flashing back to Sam. The sadness, all the pain he had suffered, all the discrimination and bullying in school for not having parents. He was still lost in his thoughts when the man continued: — By this, you broke the straight labyrinth rule, which is basically that you cannot just exit the maze even if it is hard, you have to keep on fighting with all your strength. Sammy, I know that these past years have been horrible, but you still cannot take away a whole life from yourself. So many bright things could happen in the future. Think about your aunt and uncle, or what about your cousins or your friends?

— But why am I still here? How did I end up here again? I jumped off the bridge, I remember the water filling my lungs and the silence which followed.

— Luckily, a fisherman was nearby, and even though he could not go up to stop you, he immediately called for help. Right now, you are in the hospital floating between life and death. Look, I cannot send you back anymore because of your rule breaking. You have to be strong enough and fight for yourself. Do it for your mom and dad; make them proud! They are always there with you. Now go, show the world that you are not a rule-breaker, you just made the wrong turn in the labyrinth.

And with that, the office with the tall man, with the books and the calming atmosphere disappeared and was slowly replaced by the sound of a happy uncle and aunt, as the long lost boy returned to his home, his labyrinth, where he still had so many things to do and so many right and left turns to make.

Bertalan Szegi

Our story begins on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Most of the people are just relaxing and enjoying the last few hours of the weekend, watching tv, playing video games, or simply sleeping. 

But a guy whose name is Josh is sitting at his desk and trying to understand the math homework. His math teacher said that if they solve it and get a good solution they will be awarded a good grade. Some of Josh’s classmates have already solved it, and they are happy, because everyone got the same answer, but Josh didn’t want to get any sort of help. He is a strange guy, someone who would rather get a bad grade, or do something wrong, than let other people help him. In other words he is aloof and obstinate.

Josh had been working on his math homework the whole weekend. Fortunately he was able to start it, and following his method he could get a good solution, but he made a mistake while trying to rearrange the equation and didn’t realise it afterwards. Now just as he was about to get a result for the homework, he started to realise that something had gone wrong when he arrived at a negative number for the time. He was so upset, because he had thought that his solution would be perfect. While searching for his mistake, he didn’t even realize that it was almost 8 p.m. The next day he had to go to school early in the morning, because he had a 0th lesson, but he wanted to get a good solution before going to sleep. The other people in the class got a solution, but Josh would never ask them for help; he decided not to sleep until he got the good solution. But as the hours went by, he became very tired, and totally forgot about the next day. Approximately at 3 a.m. Josh fell asleep at his desk, and slept until 12 o’clock. When he woke up, he was so angry, because he was late for school, and not able to do the homework.  His parents were so angry, because they thought that he didn’t want to go to school. And all of his work was in vain.

This situation wouldn’t have happened if Josh had asked for help. He had overcomplicated a simple exercise. Also, it’s bad to ask for help right at the beginning, before trying to solve the problem yourself, but Josh went to the other extreme by putting all of his energy into it.

Eszter Aletta Hevesi

Erika Szántó

I was walking down the straight path he led me onto. He had laid the way out for me already. I could see the light at the end. I hastened my pace.

Suddenly, a wall of amethyst rose from the ground, forcing me to stop. There was a question written on the wall. “When was the camera invented?“ Hah! Easy, around 1816. What a weird question to ask. I could hear an ear-piercing cracking sound. It came from the wall. It broke in half, letting me go forward. A piece of it cut my cheek; the burning sensation of the wound reminded me that this was indeed reality.

I strode forward along the infinite pathway. Many other walls stood in my way, all of them falling apart after I answered the question carved on them. After a while, nearly all of my body parts had multiple gashes from their debris. The questions got harder too; it wasn’t so easy to answer them anymore. I hoped I could keep up my answer streak at least until I got to the end of this straight labyrinth of trivia.

I was limping and my breathing was shallow. I can’t go on for a lot longer like this. Yet another wall rose up. “Your grave is not here.” What? What is that supposed to mean? What should I answer? What is this? It’s not even a question!

Yes. It’s not here.

The wall didn’t crack. The amethyst started to shift in color and consistency. Molten crimson gashed down onto me. The ground tilted. No. It wants me to go back. It’s gonna kill me. I have to go on!

The molten substance burned me to bones and ashes. Or maybe the velocity of the fall killed me somehow. I won’t know anymore.

Alexandra Klaudia Süveges

People say dreams differ from reality. It may be true; people use dreaming to cope with the disappointment of the time spent awake. In dreams, anything can happen, reality is twisted, formed to your desire. Compared to life outside the fluffy blankets and pillows, dreams are a comfortable place for anyone.

There is a legend that says after a specific ritual, upon falling asleep you will find yourself before a maze. Once the alarm clock is set to 6 a.m. sharp, the game has begun. If you can manage to find a way out before hearing the alarm clock in the real world, you win. You can take anything to the real world you desire, without limits.

Here’s the catch: if you run out of time, you can never wake up again. Your desired reality would turn into a pit of nightmares without a single chance of escape. A truly one-round game.

Two players entered at the same time, each surprised to see the other. From the website where they found the tutorial—not even thinking it would remotely be true—was not even a single mention of playing in teams. Or against each other.

The first girl, observant and well-prepared, was holding paper and a pencil with a small rubber on its end. She wasted no time and ran in the labyrinth, already scribbling the layout of the visited path.

The other one sat outside, leaning against the material of the walls; pure, thin marble. Its dull white color and the repetitive carved-in pattern would make her head ache and lose patience if she were to see it all around her for the remaining six hours.

That’s what the first girl got: her paper torn by the many attempts of erasing after every corner, and the wind blew away the rubber dust, making her get completely lost before she was even halfway the end. Her rationalism and all, along with her inability to find a solution, is what led her here. At every dead end she’d recalculate the growing possibility of losing, without tactic. Not even her outstanding skills could find a way out though; she sank to the ground and gave up completely.

The second girl waited enough for the imaginary clock to tick down; she was sure the other wasn’t coming out anytime soon. Tangled in the creak of the maze, helpless, she let herself be consumed by despair and regret. She grabbed the hammer she had entered with, and ran in a straight line forwards, breaking all the marble stones in front of her.

The time was ticking sharp outside, just waiting for the morning sun to shine between the blinds. She swung the hammer left and right, not even caring about the flying shards in her way. Jumping for the last wall, breaking it with her physique, she won.

The trick? No matter where the real exit was, she would make a new one and win nevertheless.

Adél Mihályi

Life itself is a straight labyrinth.

From the very beginning, we are surrounded with questions. We try to figure out the answers, but later realize the more we discover, the more problems occur. They lead us with the ‘donkey and stick’ method, showing us hints at a solution, but we are so focused on the carrot that we hit our heads against the wall. After reaching multiple dead ends, we look around and find ourselves even further from the exit we were looking for the whole time.

This is the point when we get panicked and just want to escape; we would do anything just to leave this maze behind. We look at the thread that has followed all our footsteps: it is strangled by its own tangles. How is it ever going to be straight?

As Joseph Sugarman, a character from the series BoJack Horseman, said: “Time’s arrow neither stands still nor reverses, it merely marches forward.” It is moving on a straight path, and we try our best to keep pace with it, while wandering in the chaos.

…But that is impossible. Sometimes, we just have to stop fighting, forget the grey walls, the rushing time. We have to look at the sky and think about how, at the very same moment, someone else is doing the same thing, while forgetting about their own labyrinth, their life.

Nerses Boztaş

Clouds of dust licking longitudinally all the suburb, Sasuntsi women veiled, handling water copper buckets and spreading out their inlaid rugs on the street, settled down to gabble in a language frazzled. “Ahçig,Anunıt inçi? “ Makruhi Can, Makruhi.” Yells of Methuselah’s swearing, swearing blue streak, damning, sarcastic melodically covered grayish air and  Virgin Mary church’s bell clanging. Patriarch wormy Ohan, in the middle of the smarmy vartabets crowd, hymning Hayrmer liturgy in abundant woe, enraged as much as gulping, the whole congregation started to weep. İnçu honeng? “Why are we here? Why? But the railway had never stunk of joy and happiness. How can ironpigs bring along serenity? Contrarily they talked about Jerusalem, beauty terrenels, flowers, fig and apple trees…” passed from mind to mind. Just then, in front of gate, a scraggly boy, swarthy and black-haired, appeared. He rushed up flustered. Stumbling up and down in each bend of serpentine, stony streets of the historic peninsula, he exhaled in Hoopedstone. In front of him, there was an old, white-facade building which was never lacking in internal uproar. The old foreman was dressing down the novice apprentice. Even micro-stains remaining on the window being overlooked while cleaning up was a sufficient cause for beating.  Varbet-tradition, contradictorily demanding subsistence of us, was a just part of exiguity. When he ascended to the fourth flat, he saw senile Arto pissing by the window, mad Zınzalyan busy stuffing patties with cheese filling, and bald Aram yelling to Arto. On the bench, plenty of Ganyan bulletins creased by nervous hands were piled. İt was evident that Arto had lost his 44th horse-racing bet, dooming again. Because bequeathed fortune undoubtedly  goes into horse racing; now he doesn’t even have a common lavatory. Bald Aram, when he noticed the little boy, rumbled like a whale, “Zso, Jamı kaniye kides?” “Kide kidee kidem varbet pays, pays.” Bald Aram got nervous. ”Pays inç, pays inç, gentani.” The boy’s was saucer-eyed, his lips twitching in fright. “Pays, varbet, şat kalelu der mi ga.” Bald Aram, flaring out, said, “Betkevor zezs çudes, ganuğh bidi cas,” and made him stand on one foot for punishment. Mad Zınzal gave a silly glance, once at the boy and twice at varbet bald Aram. And the boy was thinking. It it worth it for us to go on working, suffering here? And what to say for Garabet, Hagop, Mıgır? Education will hit us? Witnessing a sargavag, elder man Zınzalyan, now he is busy being parasitic. He cares, no? Arto? Thousandfold endeavoring though his fortune has been lost? But has he been lost? Or bald Aram,a  foreman creating global diffusion of jewellery. But on the other hand, he is quite realistic. He tortures me. When I expressed to my family that I can’t understand human behavior, they disdained me as a child. But a child growing up becomes a more childy child. Childhood in Sandgate is adulthood. An adulthood is childhood part one.” With a sudden seizure he fell in a heap in front of everyone’s eyes.

Armenian glossary

Sasuntsi women:The women of Sason

Ahçig,anunıt inçi? “Makruhi Can,Makruhi”: the refrain of a folk song named “Makruhi can,” meaning “girl what’s your name, Makruhi Can, Makruhi?”

vartabet: a priest in the Armenian church

Hayrmer: a liturgy meaning “our mother”

Varbet-tradition: mentor system

Zso, jamı kaniye kidess?: Hey you, what time is it, do you know?

“Kide, kidee, kidem varbet pays,pays”: I know, know my master, but…”

Pays, varbet, şat kalelu der mi ga: “But my master, it’s a long way to walk.”

sargavag: deacon

Betkevor zezs çudes, ganugh bidi cas: In order not to be beaten, come earlier!