Night one

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People say that if you hear things your crazy. People also say that ghost are real. Then they turn around and say that if you see them you must be mad.

But if they say that they exist doesn't that also make them mad? So why are they doing this to me? Why are they so against me? Aren't they just as mad as me?

Millions of questions flew around my head as I sat on the hard floor of the wagon. My back was leaned up against the cold metal cage walls.

The old man in front reminded me of a reaper. His black horse a thistle pulling us to deaths door. The prison to be my new home in this hell.

But what can I say. People are mad every one of them. Even the ones they look up too. How is it my fault if you can't accept me?

-Akina3036

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