The Horror Library - The Best in Horror Fiction

The Minotaur
By Jason R. Beirens

Labyrinths are everywhere in the woods. The dark adds to the disorientation one feels out here when you have no idea where you are. One tree looks like another. Knotted, gnarled, and large, and not at all inviting to the weary traveler covered and choking on the dust and bugs of the woods.
Despite the tree looking like it might swallow me whole, I sit down and let myself sink into it. It is more comfortable than it looks. I settle back, my tired aching shoulders relax against the marbleized wood of the old tree. I take in the night air. It is cold and still, and strangely inviting. I believe I hear my voice in the distance. I know though, that it is only exhaustion calling me. Morpheus tugs at my eyelids, bidding me to enter his realm.
Peripheral vision catches movement in the far shadows to the right and left. My legs bend sharply, and I thrust my exhausted body to standing position once again. I am no longer alone. I hear no noise. When my gaze is forward once more I see only darkness. I back up against the tree, and look up. Before me is a Minotaur. It looks down at me, and exhales deeply, and steam rises from its mouth and nostrils. A gold ring pierces its nose. Heavy leathery scars decorate its body. A matted thin layer of stiff black hair is all it has for warmth. The eyes of the beast are pale blue. It is the only color visible. Even the horns are tarnished black from dirt, and darkness.
I expect it thinks I will freeze in horror. For when I speak, it looks queerly at me, tilting its head to the left.
"Hello," I reach out slowly, "You have kind eyes."
The Minotaur manages a smile. It looks to the left and right. A band of small men surround us. They are tiny, hairy, and wild. They are all naked. They hold only a small rustic looking weapon each. On first count, I see five, and then I see two more rise from the thick foliage. They hold out the neanderthalesque weapons at the monster and myself. I smile at the seven "dwarfs" and look into the distance surrounding us for Snow White.
The Minotaur simply raises its arms out and lowers its large head and lets out a scream that shakes the trees around us. The seven wild men flee. I stay in my place. I am either too tired to run, or I just don't care. Really it is neither; I am more intrigued by the monster's existence then frightened of it. My eyes track its eyes. Steam passing before them from its nostrils. It's is breath heavy.
My arm reaches out. I touch the nose. It is wet, and cold. I touch near the entrance of the gold ring on the right side. The beast rears back a little. I think it will run, but like me, it stays. I would like to think we are mysteries to each, a human who doesn't run at its approach, and a mythological creature in the real world.
"Its lonely out here," I say.
The beast nods.
"I have been out here for near two weeks. Lost in the woods."
The beast exhales shortly,
"Is this your labyrinth?"
The beast snorts, then with a heavy bass voice speaks,
"My prison, my labyrinth."
I trace a scar from its neck to its arm.
"We are a horrible race of creatures, we humans."
The Minotaur snorts,
I look up and ask,
"How long have you been here?"
"Longer than I care to remember", it looks up to the dense canopy of twisted trees. I sit again in the tree's cavernous bark. The night air is now full of the sound of crickets and owls.
The beast walks across the small opening, and sits against a tree opposite me. It's back burrowed slightly into the thick hide of the bark. I hear the scritch-scratch of the thick course fur and the rough bark. We are a few yards apart. It is as tired as I am. It does not want to fight. I don't either. The beast puts its head in its large dark hands.
The last thing I see before Morpheus finally takes me is the great beast weeping.
Then the darkness envelopes me, and I sleep.
I wake up. The beast looks at me. It has not slept. I believe it is daylight. I hear birds in the distance. No owls. The darkness is unchanged here though. I can see faint outlines of everything. My eyes are getting used to the light still. The Minotaur scratches his stomach.
"I am going to try to find my way out of the labyrinth today."
The beast smiles again. The blue eyes blink; they seem to laugh at me.
I take a handful of mushrooms and grass, and toss them to the side, perturbed.
"Is there a way out of here?"
The beast raises an arm and rubs its horn. A bit of the off white of the horn shows through the dirt.
"Why have I yet to kill you?" it asks in its thunderous voice.
Shrugging, I get up, and stretch. My neck cracks and arms pop. The beast flinches back. It feels sorry for me, I think.
The Minotaur rises like the sun. Stretching to the darkened canopy. His arms press against low branches, crunching and cracking the same as I did. It might be the beast, or it might be the branches. I take a step back.
It moves from right to left, and more pops and cracks echo through the cold still air.
The beast motions to me, and begins to walk.
"Follow me."
I do so. We travel through thick brush, briars, and mud. The last bit of winters snow holds tightly onto the earth, it has a death grip on the land.
Traveling through the forest labyrinth, steam rises in small puffs of white. As soon as it appears it falls away into the air, and then is replaced by another.
What seemed like days had passed. I did not grow tired. I believe days passed only because owls were replaced by birds, and then replaced again by owls.
No light is visible.
We travel without speech. After a few cycles of birds to owls, the forest becomes lighter. The air becomes lighter. The woods fall away. The thick of the forest thins. It opens then into a field that I recognize. It is white with virgin snow.
"Go home," the voice thunders.
I stop and turn to the beast.
"Why did you let me live?"
The Minotaur smiles, or does its best variation on a smile,
"I do not know. Maybe because you were not afraid," it scratches its head, "and you did not wish to kill me. You only wanted to go home. Like me."
It then walks away back into its prison, its labyrinth. I believe I hear it crying, as I walk away
I go home in the coming spring, the sun shining brightly into my eyes.
I look back towards the thick forest. I might return, to visit the Minotaur, my friend. I might never return, but I do not wish it to be alone for always and ever. The wild men are no company.
…
I will return again.