If you’re reading this note, I’m sorry. I assume you’re in the same situation as me — that bastard drugged you and dumped you in these catacombs, with only a candle to find your way out.
I don’t know how many people he’s done this to, but there have probably been a lot. He wouldn’t spend so much time on it otherwise. Listen, he told me the catacombs are a maze, and he’s set traps and deadfalls at every turn. But he promised there’s one safe way out, if I’m lucky enough to guess the correct path.
I’m not lucky. I’m just a journalism student and part-time graphic designer, here on holiday. There’s no way I’m getting out alive. But I want someone to. I want revenge.
I’m sure you do, too, so let’s help each other. I still have my writing agenda and a pen. Before each turn, I’m going to leave them behind for the next person, writing down which way I went. If I survive to another passageway, I’ll come back and leave a page like this one. If I don’t, then it’s up to the next person to carry on and go the opposite direction.
Eventually, if we keep leaving breadcrumbs, one of us will escape. Get to the police and find that bastard. Do it for those who didn’t make it.
My name is Abel. I went right here.
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Reading the note by candlelight you feel a glimmer of hope, until you realize you’re reading from the writing agenda itself. Abel never returned to tear out the page and you’re the first person here since him.
You look to your right, where the dark maze awaits.
