He placed an hour-glass clock adjacent to the maze. His idea of a joke. The hedge appeared not of threatening height from outside — no taller than the average man — so people were happy to take up the challenge.
The owner of the garden would set up his deckchair opposite the clock, pour himself a glass of champagne, and toast participants before they disappeared through an entrance that immediately closed behind them.
On the inside, the hedge reached to the sky and was full of thorns. Not an exit in sight.
Poor souls. Mere skeletons. The maze had a monstrous appetite.
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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories
Photo prompt: image (c) Sandra Crook
Sarah Potter Writes 