Creative Writing: The Endless Maze

The Endless Maze
I hadn't seen the door before. It wasn't there last night. Cautiously, I turned the handle, and pushed through. The lady was right. She had warned me about the strange habits of the house before I moved in. It was my choice anyway. The door creaked open with my movement, until I was completely engulfed into the room. I let go of the handle, and the door slammed shut behind me. The candle’s flame extinguished with a icy chill down my spine. I quickly reached into my pocket, pulled out my lighter, and lit the candle wick.
The room was full of white cloth, forming all different shapes and patterns of quilt. The walls, the floor, the ceiling. Everything is encompassed in cloth. The floor is creaking with every step I make. Right; err. Left; err. I make my way over to the right wall. I pull back the cloth, and another door appears. The cloth around the door won’t budge. I twist the doorknob. It doesn’t open.
“There must be something blocking the entrance..” I look around the room. A vent is in the top right corner. It looks like it’s a little loose. I make my way over to the corner and reach for it, but discover it’s too high for me to reach. I turn back to the door where I came in. It’s open.

I turn around and walk to the stairs. The steps creak with my body weight. This house must be old. That lady that sold it to me did look like she was in her older years of life. I reach the bottom step and trip on an untied shoelace. My knee scrapes an open floorboard and the skin tears off. I scream in agony as blood trickles down my knee. I try to look at my knee, but I can’t. The pain is too excruciating. I push up to a standing position and limp to the bathroom door, to discover the bathroom door is