He reaches into the sunlit canvas; nothingness pulls him into the portrait of the child and her swing. His hands seem to be made of charcoal. “Welcome familiar face”, an old man’s voice whispers into the fleeting wind. Still rattled by the sudden turn of events, he explores this unusual new world.

The man squints his eyes, trying to sort out his thoughts. He washes his face and stares at himself in the mirror. Bloodshot. Groggy. Pathetic. Useless. He Smiles, and grabs his towel. He guessed it was roughly 3 to 4 am. “Lunchtime” he whispered to himself. He checked empty cupboards, and the empty fridge.

He tries to talk to the child playing on the swing, “what are you doing here?” he utters. The child looks at him, goes down from the swing and runs toward him. He is embraced by the little girl, “Your daughter” an old man’s voice exclaims. He holds the hand of the girl, and explores this odd world made of charcoal. A static world, bland… boring… He turns to look at the girl, “she’s smiling eh…”, he whispers to himself, as the girl smiles at him enthusiastically. This world felt surreal… it felt cold and… scary… but somehow looking the little girl he felt… relief. He plays with the girl at the swing. “Looks like she’s having fun” he thought to himself. “Both of you look happy” an old man’s voice mentions in a soft voice.

He glances over the portrait’s corner, first a droplet, then it seemed to flow out like a stream. Red liquid. Blood.

“But you killed her didn’t you?”

The mesmerizing world with the playful girl freezes…..

“Free time is over!!” exclaimed a security ward officer.

                The asylum doors close on the man once more…