Labyrinth of memoir

(Somewhere in the deep red, it called, loud but soft, a voice that I could recall from the roads long passed, had he been here all along?)

Darkness and towers of stone, turn after turn, would results ever bear fruit in this grand labyrinth? My body's shivering, it is cold here, alone in this darkness with only lights from the past lighting up some meager roads in this red abyss. It stretches on and on, the lights emanating from my cupped hands are vibrating, strange, the lights split into orbs flying towards something in the darkness, what in the world can it be?

Ages seemed to have passed before I reached the artifact, on a tri-claw podium it sat, a locket, a locket lined with a silver nautilus, it was a nautilus, wasn't it? That blue-tinted silver against the red steel. I let go of the light while reaching out my hand and the lights swirl and swim in the air around me, fleeting around but never truly going away, the locket feels cold to the touch of my flesh, as my hand curls around it I can hear it, such a convenient click and the lockets contraptions springs open in the palm of my hand, and inside it rested an image.

Old and its edges are faltering but the image's depiction was still as clear as day, it was a family, a mother and father smiling holding their two daughters, the mother had flaming orange hair and kind eyes, the father with a deep black dye and a pleased look across the face, and in his embrace were the girls, twins, ten maybe thirteen years of age? Both with long deep red locks of hair, they were somehow familiar, June? Why was this locket here? Lost in this abyss for me to find? Had she been here? The orbs of light flare up again and draw a line across the darkness as they move again.

Orbs lighting my way ahead I follow, they swirl and twist, swing and dance, like children playing, searching for something while playing alongside life's road, such tiny lights, shining with such vigor, who would have known how important the lights of the past would have become, who would know how important their guidance would be for the fight for a world not stained by sin, suffering, wars nor curses, a world where they all would be safe.

Had hours passed or none at all, and none would know, and it would not matter since the concept of time itself seemed distorted by this deep red abyss, all to focus on is the journey ahead and what I will need to acquire its end. Deep and red, was there three to find or just two more hearts? Will I know when I find it? Will I hear vibrant thuds and whispers of the beat of something current, past, or to come? The air, vibrating, a blaze of spiritual energy ahead, wow impressive, if the power of hundred mad souls were a battle against a river, battling against this would be going against the ocean itself, somewhere ahead the thing emanating these pulses would be, is it a heart? Or something spelling the end of all things?

*Pump!*

*Pump!*

*Pump!*

With the pulses came pressure akin to the deep-sea currents, tearing lives apart, immigrating packs of sea creatures around the globe, and of course keeping the planets heat and heart pumping, truly a tremendous force to behold, a force that could speak the language of change, oh my. The tendons and muscles in my legs are straining to step forth, and my vitality drains as the force of my spirit bending is taxing and not up to the raw force of what was ahead. Oh, a blinding light, and voices yelling, distorted by the tremendous force in the air.

"STOP! ..... ... .... ..... .. THIS WILL NOT B.... .. P.... PLEASE! ..... PLEASE!"

"STAY .... B.... JUST STAY!"

"THE EGG WILL BE SPOILED"

"LET GOD COME"

"WILL IT .. .O..?"

"I L... .O."

"I DON'T WANT TO"

"LET IT END"

"WILL IT BIRTH FROM THIS?"

"J... ..R.S LOOK O.."

"THIRTY-FOUR"

It is there, right in front of me, a tremendous heart, cracked and burning with the power of creation itself, the stone heart blackened by the ceaseless blaze of energy, it is a heart alright, this must be the heart of the future, that will leave one more heart then, a labyrinth of three hearts reflecting the past present and future of the individuals that had grazed its domain, truly strange. The blasts from the heart burns my already seared flesh, but as the right hand touches it, I can feel it "Oh great forces of what's to come, grant me knowledge of escape".

Flashes, darkness, searing pain, visions of a grand egg and a wasted world, and by this sight a bright red sky. Darkness, back in this abyss, what was that all about? Wait a bright line, reaching through the darkness? This feeling, am I getting out of this abyss soon? Or will this line lead me for hours on end, well I determined myself to this fight so I can't lose my motivation no matter how long it will take, I will follow, I will find the labyrinth's heart of present, and I will find my way back and out.

My body, tired and worn, carries on, following this bright line in hope for the way out, one final heart to judge, release and salvation? Darkness and despair? Or perhaps... Nothing? A slight line has diverged from the route, faint but vibrant, there down on the ground something laid, a picture frame? The picture frame just lays there face down to the red ground, I wonder what significance it holds, I guess it cannot hurt. Warm and heated could describe the jet-black frames' touch to my skin, the image? Mom? Dad? Alexander? Why does mom look so sad? Why is dad wearing that fake, strained, and unloving grin? Alexander, he must be seven, does he not see? His smile is so real, like a kid waiting for a big present he was just told about. Huh? Why can I taste salt? Had the tears already flown for so long?

The line keeps stretching with no conceivable end in sight. Waking, walking, walking, nothing, more walking, tiered, burned, stained with tears. Wh... *Click*

*Click* *Click*

*Click* *Click*

Where? The bright-line ends where the object starts, cold blue steel, a clockwork of intricate parts and contraptions, no shine, but there were still no hint of darkness in this grey heart for the present, the contraptions could perhaps be a riddle for all the events shaping our world, all events have links to something prior but it did happen and that inconspicuously lead to another, all tied up to the worlds eternal clockwork. The touch is neither pleasant nor vile, yet it's so much "By the spirits of the past, the force of the futures memories, the fate of the present I ask of you to ascend me from this abyss so I can complete my fate, my mark in this worlds memory and the next, let my past not be for naught and let the trinity of this circle complete my wish", bright light, an explosion of silence, fire water and the nothingness of darkness, and from this darkness a cold mechanical voice whisper,

"Ruber".