Thomas Imagines (The Maze Runner)

Linked (Part One)

The second you arrive at the Maze, you can't help but feel like something is completely, utterly, horribly wrong. It's not just the fact that you've arrived out of nowhere to a small clearing in the middle of a massive labyrinth, although you're sure that would make anyone feel fairly disconcerted. No, you're mainly concerned with the fact that you're sure you've seen this place before, and that something has happened that should never have happened at all.

You don't say a word, not when you find yourself in the Box or even when the Gladers pull you out to squint against the blinding sunlight. You're not sure how you know the names of the Box or the Maze or even the collective name of the Gladers themselves before they so much as mention those strange phrases, only that they pop into your head as surely as 'tree' or 'grass' or your own name. There's no doubt about it- you know this place, and it is only because you know this place that you know something is wrong.

Your name comes to you almost immediately. The other boys seem somewhat surprised by this- apparently it takes them a while to remember their own names, ranging from an hour or two to a couple of days. Yours, however, is firmly lodged in your head from the second you'd woken up, limbs sprawled about in the Box like you'd been thrown there by some invisible, overarching hand.

There are more things you notice, too, like the way you navigate to the doors of the Maze or the Homestead like you've seen them before, like the entire layout of the Glade has been yours for the studying. It confuses you, and you're pretty sure it would confuse the rest of the Gladers as well if you told them. However, despite your unusual surroundings you've been able to retain at least a little bit of common sense and so you keep this particular bit of information to yourself. There's no need to worry the boys conspicuously armed with long knives and bricks, at least so you tell yourself.

When the day ends, you're assigned a hammock and a place in the trees to sleep. As you stare up at the moonlit sky, you can't help but think one utterly bewildering thought: It looks so real. This thought leaves your head almost as swiftly as it enters it, leaving your thoughts muddled up once more. Why would it look real? Why wouldn't it look real, and why would you expect that?

You find you can't sleep, not for a while, so torn up are you over this mystery of the Glade. As sleep is finally creeping over you, your eyes are about to flicker shut for the final time when you hear the voice in your head. It's faint, as if distorted by space and time, but there nonetheless. I'm sorry. This isn't what was supposed to happen. Instantly, you're alert once more. You sit up, remembering a heartbeat later that you're surrounded by the rest of the slumbering Gladers. You look around suspiciously, but no one else is awake or could have spoken to you. No, the voice decidedly came from your own head.

The only problem is that it wasn't your thought, not at all. Even the strangest thoughts regarding the Maze had all been yours, spoken clearly in your own voice the way that all ideas and feelings seem to be. This voice, though, is different. It sounds like a boy's, some boy who can call out to you in your mind as if it's nothing more than a casual conversation.

You remain silent still, then carefully try to direct a thought back at the boy. What wasn't supposed to happen? For a second, you think you're well and truly going insane, making up voices in your head to try and cover up for the fact that you've been landed in the middle of a giant maze, and then the boy responds. His voice now seems shocked, as if wholly surprised that you even knew he was there. You can hear me?

You feel like bursting out into crazed laughter. Yes. I don't know how, but I can. You furrow your brows, tacking on another sentence as an afterthought. Who are you? How are you doing this? You can practically hear him sigh, unable to answer as he wishes. I don't know. I didn't think it would work, not after they sent you down. You lay down slowly, trying to think this through. After who sent me down? Why am I here?