A black ghostly figure slipped through the darkness, the shadows stretching out as if to stop him from running. Running from what we ask. The past? The future? The present?
The ghosts of the past haunt him, he knows they are there, waiting and watching. He can feel them, their cold unwanted touch ghosting across his skin, searing it, promising revenge. He can hear them, their quiet eerie whispers filling his mind, reminding him of his devilish deeds.
His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions so very hard for us to understand, for him to understand. His mind is like standing on a crumbling cliff not able to move. The pieces keep falling yet he does not move, he can't move. His mind is deteriorating into nothingness. When his mind is gone and the last piece crumbles he will fall into the dark, empty, nothingness of insanity.