Regarding My Insanity . . .

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He was comfort, a wizard of the flesh and mind.

I was a teenager when he first came to me. He was entertainment, and I was bored of the chemical confines of my stirring and recurring insanity.
Down in that damp space beneath their house where I was forced to spend my summers, he found what no one else could; myself.
He greeted me with few words, but a gentleman he was all the same. He was a man who understood the purity of promise and the putrid secret truth of this watery planet. Down there in that place where I was forced to spend my summers, he said to me, in his uneven tone;

“I’m Hansel, I’m your saviour, but you might not want to speak to me; I’m a weird fish.”
I crawled on my scraped hands and scraped knees toward his alluring, uneven tone.

“And my life is a freezing ocean. Please, my saviour, free me from my isolation.”
He smiled at this; my reply seemed to please him.

With his defrauding, alluring and un-even smile, he seemed to convey, “I can free you from this, Sam. You just have to do what I say.”

He asked me all about their and they, but nothing about there. Oh, he already knew about there.
I told him about my parents; how this was their house, I was their son, and how I wasn’t “A ‘normal’ boy.” I wasn’t what they had wanted. Hansel asked me who had said that I wasn’t normal.
They” I hissed at the dinner table.

He hmm’d in a way that exasperates exasperation, “They say a lot of useless things, don’t they Sam?”

“Yes, they do.”

“Who are you talking to, boy?” My mother and father always despaired.

I turned to Hansel, and stared into his glassy blue eyes. “Why, Hansel, here of course.”
They looked straight through him, as if he were made of cellulose.

“You’re too old for imaginary friends,” my father stated gruffly, unperturbed.

“What would everyone think if they saw this . . .” my mother sighed in shame. “This is why we can’t ever let you outside.”

I frowned deeply. But then I understood. Hansel comforts me with his cool hand.
“My people are visible to only few, Sam. You are going to enter the world and make this fallen empire great again. Together we shall define the human spirit! Stay by me, and we will make them understand.”

I wrote a poem for my first day of Home-school about my secret friend. It was about all the things he told me to do to make the world great again. The teacher saw it carved into my kitchen table. He stayed behind longer to talk about it . . . I think he liked what I had wrote.

“This is an interesting poem, Sam.” He speaks through his nose, at a snail’s pace.
Hansel watches me; he has stayed by my side. He is my trustworthy shadow, a deviant of promise. “Who’s Hansel? He seems interesting.”

Hansel flashes me a look with his cold blue eyes, and I know. “I'd prefer we didn’t talk about him.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise he was real.”

Hansel smiles and I know he wanted that. His insatiable, defrauding, and alluring smile.
“No, he isn’t.”

“I don’t quite understand Sam.”

He tells me what to say.
“show him,” he says.

“He’s just as real as me or you. Trust me , it’s all going to make sense.”
And as I speak I adopt his cool, calculated and un-even tone. I show him how normal I am, and now he will never return to their home.

He is the puppet-master. I am the show.

They don’t understand when I try to show what I’ll do for them. But they have been against me my whole life. They say sixteen is too old for an imaginary friend.

We sit on the swings observing the rituals of what society considers normal children.
We lick the blood from our scraped knees and hands, our sweaty black hair. We prod the new bruise on our face.
“They will never understand. Their minds have been sullied by horse headed media men, the system on which they and their parents are built,” I say to him.

“Perhaps, there is something we can do . . .” He replies. “This planet is an ocean; we have bigger fish to fry.”


No one would help me. I would reach out to the crowded world, and return with empty hands. I was only a freak to them.


“What else are you going to do, Sam?” He whispers in his uneven tone. “You won’t make any friends on your own . . . you’re too weak!”
Our hands shake, hold the lighter in place. “You are the puppet master, I am the show.”
My voice is not mine; it belongs to the echoes of the dark damp room. The place where my parents locked me during the summers.

“Your doubt is treacherous, Sam. I am your saviour; I can make you better than them. I can give you friends, companions, people with whom you can shed your love, who are smarter and more than they could ever be.” His voice is raised, his anger makes me cringe. “Just do as I command!”

I ran as my creation took light, a dragon with indomitable jaws, consuming their government and everything inside.
Its fingers stretched north, further than I had wanted.It burned and devoured everything it touched.
Hansel laughed beside me, as we watched.

I fell to my knees and began to cry, tears to heal the scarred and ravaged earth. He looked down on me, his eyes no longer blue but red as the screaming bloodied sky.
“There is beauty in destruction my friend. This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I have never lied.”

Someone had seen us running from the source of the blast. The pig-headed police men had found our fingerprints.
We stood trial and we told them no lies.

We sit now in a room at the place for healing minds. I’m waiting for the doctor. It’s my first time.

He pauses in the doorway, staring at Hansel, Hansel staring at him. His face stretches into an insurmountable grin.
“Sam, I think you can go to your room now.” The doctor tells me in his cool, alluring uneven tone. “You are our leader; you will lead us into the new age.”

I am led to my room, treated as the king of men. Hansel waves goodbye to me and tells me when he’ll see me again. I sit down and mull over all things that I’ve done, trying to make sense of the past the present and what the future holds in its bony riddle inspiring fingers.

Suddenly, I find I am beside myself, a laughing man, my sides splitting.

“’I will lead them into a new age?’” The tears run down my face, salty on my grinning lips. “Hansel is real! Everyone else is insane!”
Last edited by chloe13 on Thu Aug 04, 2011 7:01 am, edited 5 times in total.




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This was creepy. I liked the way you built the tension up until the last paragraph. Structure's good, you have a way of describing certain characters which I love. For an improvement, I would suggest that you made some bits more clearer. I understand that because the person is insane, she sees things that are not there, but the last bit with the doctor I found a bit confusing. So, for next time, make it a bit more clearer what's real and what's not. Overall, great work!




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I was bored of the chemical confines of my stirring and recurring insanity.

I really like this! It paints a great picture.

he said to me, in his un-even tone;

You should just change this to "uneven."

“And my life is a freezing ocean. Please my saviour, free me from my isolation.”

Now, this is where the "Let's eat grandma!" and "Let's eat, grandma!" issue comes in. The way it's written now implies that the narrator wants this "wizard" to please his savior, thus freeing him from isolation. I'd just put a comma after "Please." XD

“I can free you from this Sam, you just have to do what I say.”

I believe this is a run-on. Also, I'd put a comma before "Sam." "I can free you from this, Sam. You just have to do what I say."

He asked me all about their and they, but nothing about there. Oh, he already knew about there.

This part I really liked. It's clever. <3

“They say a lot of useless things don’t they Sam?”

Put a comma after "things." He would naturally pause between things and don't. Try saying things aloud if you're not sure about comma use.

“Who are you talking to boy?”

Put a comma before "boy." Again, say it aloud and imagine how the parents would say it.

“You’re too old for imaginary friends#FF0000 ">,#FF0000 ">my father stated gruffly, unperturbed.


The teacher saw it carved into my kitchen table, he stayed behind longer to talk about it . . .

Another run-on. Put a period instead of a comma.

He is my trustworthy shadow, a deviant of promise.

Love this! Deviant of promise, very nice...

He tells me what to say#FF0000 ">.#FF0000 ">Show him,” he says.


“He’s just as real as you or I.

Should be "me" instead of "I." In this case, "I" is a direct object, and thus, "me." "I" would be used like... "My friend and I went to the bakery." When "I" is the subject.

“They will never understand#FF0000 ">. #FF0000 ">Their minds have been sullied by horse headed media men, the system on which they and their parents are built,” I say to him.


“This planet is an ocean#FF0000 ">; we have bigger fish to fry.”


“What else are you going to do#BF0000 ">, Sam?”


My voice is not mine; it belongs to the echoes of the dark damp room. The place where my parents locked me during the summers.

Ooooh, I love this. <3

I can give you friends, companions, people with whom you can shed your love with, who are smarter and more than they could ever be.” His voice is raised#FF0000 ">. #FF0000 ">His anger makes me cringe. “Just do as I command!”

"Shed" your love? What is that supposed to mean?

“There is beauty in destruction my friend. This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I have never lied.”

Another wonderful section!

I’m waiting for the doctor#FF0000 ">. #FF0000 ">It’s my first time.


“You are our leader#FF0000 ">; you will lead us into the new age.”


Overall, it's a very compelling story! You just had some minor grammatical issues that're easy to fix.




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I was rather... disappointed in the lack of subtle insanity, but still this is interesting, even though I've encountered a few pieces that follow that same idea, that they were the sane ones, that everyone else was insane.

One question, mayhaps the theme, runs through the entire story. Who is Hansel? A figment of Sam's imagination? Or is he 'real' ? I feel that this is what makes this piece stand out for me. The others above have pointed all mistakes I can see, so Good day to you then.
I am... RealmStrike. Fear me.



akdsjfh you know that feeling where you start writing a scene but then you get bored with the scene so you move on and start writing a different scene and then you get bored with that scene so you move on to an entirely different WIP and then you get bored with that so you move on-
— AceassinOfTheMoon