• I somehow longed for a green, open field surrounded by lightly covered snow
    mountains. I longed to hear the wind at my heels, the birds' soft, sweet songs covered with dew from the faeries at sunrise, to feel the power with me to run as long as I wanted and never run out of breath; to touch the air's cool, moist atmosphere. I longed to taste the raindrop's freshness fall from the sky. To smell the essence of wet mud and sparkling blades of grass.

    That was what I imagined. But that was not what I got. I felt trapped inside - I felt as if behind bars that were always bending and rusting, but would never break. So I cried silently, wishing that I could just collapse into someone that had the power to feel exactly what I felt; instead of just guessing.
    I somehow felt like I was gripping the brown, rusty bars, surrounded by nothing but solid steel walls. I heard nothing but the whimpers that escaped from my throat and their echoes, feeling the hard-metal, hellish trappers. I felt as if I was constantly being whipped from the inside and lashed and cut - tasting the blood in my mouth emerging from my stomach. I could only inhale the damp, dark, poisonous air that had come and gone from my lungs thousands of times.

    'Just keep imagining.' I thought. 'Maybe your friend, the ice-wizard, will come along and save you.' So I'll wait until I heal myself, or until a friend comes to save me. 'At least this isn't real . . . you only feel like it inside . . .'