• I am not crazy, he thinks, I am not crazy.
    Strapped down to the bed, he pulls on the vines.
    Those grasping, constraining, thorny vines.
    How he wishes he could fly away… and never come back.
    But those vines hold him down. No matter what he does.
    The stones part and the ghosts come rushing in.
    It is always the same. Those ghastly claws forcing him to move.

    Down the rabbit hole, through the glass, and pass the wilting forest.
    No matter how hard he cries, no one comes to help.
    No one comes to help. Not even a mouse.

    The ghosts just hit him, making him stumble upon the ground.
    It is then, he fears. The ghost smirk their shining fangs and attack him.
    They are all over him, fangs, claws and pain. And no one comes to help.
    No matter how loud he shrieks, how hard he cries, he is truly along.
    The ghosts finish and drag his ragdoll body to his cage.

    He begs in silence; Finish me, please, over and over. But no mercy is given.
    The ghosts do not care anymore. They throw him into his cage.
    It is then, the world is dark but the sounds are echoing.

    He is awoken by hard kicks to his cage. The noise penetrates into his mind.
    The mind is broken, but yet he still thinks, I am not crazy. The ghosts are back again.
    They pull him out by his skeleton wings but then release him.
    He is in silent bliss, the coldness of the floor embracing him, taking away his pains.
    The golem grabs him by the hair and plays soccer with his face.
    He never liked the Deadman Game.

    He wished it would all end, the tortuous hell. The mind numbing games.
    Soon, he is returned to the vines, but not without a fight. He shrieks like a bird.
    Howls like a mad wolf and fights like a mother tiger. He will not return.
    He will not let them take him away. The golem holds him down, the neck slowly turns black.
    Poison is emitted into red, he fights no more, the claws drag away from his skin.
    I am not crazy, he thinks.

    The warm embrace of the sun, it is strange. But yet, he feels it.
    Coaxing him into the light, but those vines hold him close.
    They wind around his body, he is immobile. Free, he thinks. He dares not shout.
    Slowly, mysteriously the vines begin to wind. A soft touch on his face, carefully.
    He dares not open his snake eyes. He dares not breathe in water.
    Tell me your wish, the mermaid says. What do you want?

    Something, he thinks but does not answer.
    The mermaid could be a ghost, they were always watching. He dared not take a chance.
    She removes her touch and lets the vines die around him. She does not return.
    I am not crazy, he thinks and slowly gets up. I am not crazy.
    His hands move upon their own will, slowly encasing his neck. The world is falling around him.

    I am not crazy, he thinks once more but the blood stained hands
    continue their tortuous gaze. His world falls apart, like pieces of the mirror.
    And around him, the ghosts are pooled dead. He draws his last breath. Why did no one stop me, he thinks.