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I look into the cave. I have to go in, or the beast will catch up with me. All there is to see is darkness. Who knows what could be in there? The beast’s heavy footsteps are becoming louder… Closer… Surely the beast can hear my heartbeat, or smell the raw fear welling up inside me. The ground shook mightily from the force of his steps; though I could not yet see the beast behind me.

I feel the walls around me getting narrower with each step. Above, I could see thick, black tendrils hanging down; beckoning and waving to me like an old friend who wanted to share dark secrets. With every undulation, small drops of liquid streamed out, landing on the rock in front of me with thick, cloying smoke and a loud hiss. Ragged pock marks formed on the cavernous rock before me, each acidic splash further blocking my only visible means of escaping the beast. Exhaustion began to overwhelm me due to the beast’s pursuit throughout the night. Many times I believed that it had lost my scent or been dispatched through the various traps I had left in its path; but each time, it reappeared and was getting closer as my strength slowly depleted. Continuing directly ahead was out of the question, as I don’t believe anyone could have lasted over a few seconds, what with the smoke and acidic spray from above. Climbing the sheer rock face above the cave was out of the question, and actually facing the beast brought thick bile into the back of my throat and weakness into every joint. How does one muster the courage to face madness? What is that reservoir of strength residing in some men, and woefully lacking in others such as myself?

Then I saw the Minotaur behind me and the choice was made for me. I had to revert to my only chance of survival

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