A fable on different forms of peace
Written by Gracie Menger
My name is Kyrie Spindle and I’m going to relay the supernatural events from Tuesday of last week. My friend Sinclair and I ventured to a nearby town seeking an adventure, or something to cure our boredom at least. Our escapade was not at all what we expected.
At the local tavern where we lodged for the night, the old barkeep told us of an unusual occurrence. Several days before, a glass maze had appeared near the town. The walls were about 12 feet high and the maze created a circle large enough the entire village could have almost fit inside. According to the barkeep, many brave souls and thrill-seekers had entered, but so far none had escaped.
“If this maze is indeed made of glass, wouldn’t people be able to see their way through it?” Sinclair asked.
The barkeeper nodded. “Sure, the maze is transparent. But once the adventurers turn the first bend, they vanish from view. No one knows what happens then.”
My curiosity was piqued. I asked the barkeep if we could go in.
“No one’s going to stop you,” the barkeep said.
Sinclair and I bought packs full of supplies and headed to find the maze. The barkeep’s words didn’t do it justice. It was constructed of perfectly smooth glass with majestic walls soaring over our heads. The entrance was a grand arch with an engraving of roses across the top and some Latin text. Fortunately, Sinclair was able to translate.
“Those who complete will not have won or lost; neither will they leave the same.”
Taking a deep breath, we entered. No sooner had we turned down the first bend than we found ourselves trekking through a circular greenhouse filled with roses. We hiked through the foliage for what seemed like a long time, until we realized we were now walking on cobblestone pathways.
The maze’s dangers were certainly thrilling. We wandered down puzzling roads that led us to poisonous pits. After stumbling through more twisting and turning paths, we finally found ourselves in the centre of the labyrinth. It was the only thing not made of glass. Instead, it was a circular room comprised of mirrors.
In the centre of the room was a stone statue of two young maidens standing back-to-back. The one on the left was sombre, even mournful, while the other was sneering. Both were unbelievably beautiful. The mournful girl pointed to a door made of iron, while the sneering one pointed to a curtain of fine red velvet.
At the feet of the statue was a plaque. On it was written in gold:
“Peace is what all men seek. Those wishing for the peace found in pleasures and worldly security enter the red door. Those who wish for the peace found in serving, take the iron door.”
I turned to Sinclair.
“If peace is what this maze provides, then what better way is there than to bury oneself in pleasure?” he asked. “If I can lose myself in bliss and luxury, I won’t have to worry about politics or wars.”
With that, Sinclair left me and pushed aside the red curtain. I must record that I was tempted to follow him. The red door enticed me with its finery and pleasures. But I had also heard it said that the lusts of the world bring the fall of man. I turned to the iron door.
It could mean two things: the peace found in consuming oneself in work, or the peace found in giving all that I had to others. If it was the first choice, then I would not enter. Consuming oneself in work led to the destruction of other things, such as family and religion. If the second, then my peace might last. Providing for the unfortunate is rewarding in this life and the next.
I examined the statue once more and noticed something hidden in the folds of the left sister’s dress. It was another stone maiden, a younger girl, holding a small plaque that read, “The Secret Sister.”
The little girl pointed in between the two doors and I followed the direction of her fingers. For a moment, I paused in confusion. There was nothing there, only a blank wall of smooth mirrors. I peered closer at the wall and I saw the hidden outline of a small door. I placed my hand on the mirrored door and pushed.
A bright light blinded me. All I saw was white. The vague outline of a person appeared, then the image shifted into the silhouette of a cross. Revelation swept through me; then overwhelming peace sank in.
I write this to report that peace is not found in pleasure, nor in work, nor in serving others. These are but momentary forms of peace. Lasting peace lies with Him, my Lord. Thus I conclude the events of last Tuesday.
Cordially,
Kyrie Johannes Spindle