I stood at the entrance to the labyrinth, peering down the endless corridor before me. This was it. Either the plan would go flawlessly, or I would end up in the stomach of the Minotaur with the thirteen other teenage victims who stood ready to enter behind me. In one of my hands was a sword, in the other was a ball of red yarn. I stepped aside to tie the yarn to the sconce mounted on the styrofoam wall. The loudspeaker crackled to life. "ENTER NOW!" a voice boomed. Swallowing my nerves, I stepped in. The others followed my lead, but I turned and ordered them to stay near the entrance. I continued ahead on my own, sneakily kicking the red ball ahead of me as I went. Eventually, the corridor ended in a choice: continue straight ahead, curve to the left, or curve to the right. Keeping right, I followed the path I had memorized. I made countless turns and went around just as many bends and loops. Day had turned to night by the time I reached the Minotaur's cradle.

 

He was asleep with his back facing me. He was a curly hunk of brown and black fur a few feet longer than I was tall. His thick horns sloped away from me. I crept towards the snoring monster, raising my sword. My foot kicked a rock that skittered across the ground. He quivered and stood. He was ready to fight for the nap I had just disturbed.

 

The "Minotaur" charged. Once he got close, I ducked under one of his outspread arms and ran to the other side of the circular center of the maze. Predictably, he gave chase. I waited until the last second to hop out of the way. His choreographed collision with the wall reduced it to rubble. He turned, eyes glowing red. Smoke billowed from his nose. With a mighty bellow, he burst forward. My foot hung on something, a crack, I presumed, and I fell backwards. He was almost on top of me when I thrust my sword upwards. It caught him at the collar bone. I kicked away from him as he pushed against my sword. He cried out as the blade sliced into his chest. He staggered backwards before getting into a better charging position. A glob of his gooey "blood" fell from the tip of my sword as I struggled to my feet. He kicked at the ground before running at me. I raised my sword again, just as he ran into it, the blade sinking in. He made a gurgling roar as I retracted my blade, making him fall forward and into the Underworld.

 

Shaking, I turned and stumbled out, following the red yarn. Fighting the Minotaur was always the worst part of the fair. My school, S.A. Adamo Preparatory Academy, had a fair every nine years, the main event of which was the reenactment of Theseus's victory over the Minotaur. The founder of my school, Stephano Atticus Adamo, was from Crete and had a profound interest in Greek mythology and the role of his beloved island in it. The Minotaur was really my friend Mark in an oversized costume outfitted with strategically placed ketchup packets, red LED eyes, and a portable smoke machine behind the nostrils. Since spectators were not allowed in the maze, the event had to be filmed or, in S.A. Adamo's time, surrounded by tall seating. Speaking of spectators, my parents smothered me with "Good job"s and whatnot. But I was just glad that my role of Theseus had ended... for now.