Creative Writing One-Shots

Forest of Gladers; Part Four

Spoilers for the first novel of the Maze Runner!

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Like a bird jerking its neck in instinct, a beetle blade shifted its gears in odd directions. It scurried across the ground, flicking the blades of grass out of its path. It climbed on a pebble to gain a better view of its surroundings. The miserable silhouette of a Glader tied to a pole stood a couple feet from a dead end. With a quick click, a flash of light exposed the Glader's beaten body for a second. A perfect victim.

Animalistic ears sprouted up from a griever upon receiving the images. Wobbly wheels raced to the scene, opening and closing its gruesome claws once it spotted its victim. The griever jumped on the poor child, viciously ripping out the stuffing and throwing it aside, hungry for blood. It tilted its head. Stuffing?

A cruel weight tightened around its neck. It thrashed its body in any way it could, futilely trying its best to gain some sort of control over whatever movement it could gain. It used its spiky tail to slash the collar, only to accidentally take out its own eye. Muffled cries bounced against the walls. After a few minutes of pointless resistance, the creature went limp.

"No shucking way that worked!" Minho slouched, exhausted from the force of the griever. About half of all the Gladers stood on the roof with them, either cheering at their victory or sighing in relief. Newt, Minho, and Winston held one pole of a collar, while the other Gladers divided into two smaller groups to hold the other two collar-poles.

"Honestly, I can't believe we were bloody strong enough to not fall off this wall," Newt sighed, "or how all we needed to climb these walls were a couple of pulleys."

"After seeing Thomas' monkey adventure climbing these to protect Alby, I would've been as smart as a klunk to doubt that he could've gotten all of us up here with a little more time," Minho snorted.

Newt peered over the vast size of the maze. "As bloody terrifying this maze is on the ground, it sure is pretty up here." Moss climbed the walls that had once caged them, but now were merely an obstacle to climb. Each gray stone varied in size and shape, coming together to form an unsolvable puzzle at every turn. A direful masterpiece. "I wonder if the other team is doing as good as we are."

"Good that," Minho nodded, standing up straight. "Alright shanks, get ready to haul this sucker back to the griever hallway!"

Thomas pummeled his feet into the ground as hard as the bones in his legs would allow. His breaths were uneven and frantic. The saws of the mechanical beast chasing him clashed against themselves. Screeching metal-against-metal blared shrill roars in his ears. He dashed and darted through every twist and turn of the maze, unable to gain any distance between him and his pursuer. Doubt began to seep into his mind. Why did he do this?!

Thomas reached a dead end.

Taking a deep breath, he released any doubt of the Gladers in his mind. If he didn't have faith in them, then he wouldn't have a life. It's all or nothing. He ran to the end of the corridor, cornering himself.

"Got him!" Teresa yelled. Thomas smiled in relief. He'd be okay! Thomas looked back at the griever- he tripped and fell. Hot drool splattered on his cheek. Frozen in bloodied headlights, Thomas could do nothing but sit as still as stone as the saw of a devil roamed closer and closer to his face. Would he die the same gruesome death Alby did? Maybe some weird form of karma made him fulfill his promise of self-sacrifice. He closed his eyes, accepting his fate.

"Thomas!"

Teresa came crashing down onto the griever, thrusting a knife into its head. Taking advantage of its stunned state, she rammed her blade in and out of its skull. Yellow ooze squirted from the wounds. Something within the mess of a brain caught Teresa's eye as she reached down into it, leaving herself defenseless. A claw sprouted from a dragon-like limb, seconds away from her head.

"Teresa!" Thomas cried, bolting up to grab the limb, despite knowing he was too slow. The claw reached her hair. "Don't touch her!"

She yanked her arm out of the brain and threw some sort of wires to the ground. The monster twitched in every shape and form. Sparks flickered across the creature. Teresa's eyes widened.

"Jump Teresa! It's gonna blow!"

"I can't! My leg-" she was jerked into the air. At the threat of intense clicking, Thomas ran backwards. He covered his face to brace for impact- the griever merely went limb. A few moments of fearful calm stillness passed which soon turned into a full minute.

"I don't think it's gonna blow, Thomas," Teresa said, hanging in the air. A vine was tied around her waist, leading all the way to the top of the wall into Chuck's hands, who was doing his best to hold her up. But what concerned Thomas most was the blood dripping from Teresa's horribly bruised leg. "Maybe that was some weird form of self-defense?" Chuck loosened his grip ever so slightly to release her to the ground.

Thomas ran up to her. "Why did you do this?! Is your leg okay?! How did-"

"I said no Glader left behind! I'm not going to let you run around with Grievers and not have a backup plan!" Teresa pouted, "we knew you were going to do something stupid. We just didn't know you were so stupid you'd trip and fall when you literally would've gotten away if you ran another foot." Embarrassment flooded Thomas' cheeks, quickly making him thankful for the darkness of night to hide it.

"Yeah..." he muttered awkwardly. "What about your leg?"

"I scraped it on one of the saws when I came down," she touched the bruises on her leg. She immediately flinched and retracted her arm. "I can't move it..." Teresa said more quietly, almost like she was ashamed.

"You probably broke it," Thomas looked at the griever. All it was now was a fat piece of metal that stunk like klunk. "Don't worry, I'll tie the griever to the pulley and carry you on my back when they pull me up."

"Are you sure? I'd just be dead weight, you should leave-"

"C'mon, if Chuck can lift you, then I'm sure carrying you won't be a problem," Teresa snorted. "And didn't you say, 'no Glader left behind'?"

She smiled, "Yeah, I guess I did."