Lost Signal

Bright, the lights overhead. They emit a loud ringing, like the old spin-dial telephone at the end of the hall. Though the lights are bright, they only bring light to the middle of the path. Steady against the cold, stone wall with a hand pressed against it as the figure walks closer. Softly, they exhale. For hours they've been walking, if felt. The ringing grows louder and almost deafening. Too much to deal with as they pick it up and answer it. "Right", a voice says from the phone before the call drops. Lost signal. Right? Turn right from the telephone and continue. The ever growing labyrinth seems impossible to navigate, especially as the lights begin to burn out. Clockwork, their temporary death always arrives and the person must take shelter in one of the many safe rooms littered throughout. In truth, they had been in the labyrinth for nearly a year, and the labyrinth was their own mind as they had lost signal to the outside world.