The exit, paradoxically, is at the center. You will know you are near because the gravity loosens. Your footsteps make no sound. The walls begin to blush a shy pink, and the air fills with the scent of buttered toast. To escape, you must not run. You must not think. You must simply un-decide where you are going.
Behind you, the hedge has no teeth. But if you listen very closely—past the cars, past the wind—you can still hear the faint, distant whirring. the wooz maze
The first rule of the Wooz Maze is that you cannot remember entering it. One moment you are walking home, turning a corner you’ve turned a thousand times; the next, the streetlamp’s hum has deepened, the asphalt has gone soft as licorice, and the hedges have grown teeth. Not sharp teeth— wobbly teeth, the kind that might gum you to death over a century. The exit, paradoxically, is at the center