I’m a very handsome and dashing individual. I can’t have that being the image embedded deeper in peoples head than their own core is.

The window doesn’t let light in, because there is no light. The darkness surrounding the place was significant. More comforting than the stabbing lights. There are no stars here. No moon either. There’s nothing up there.

The cave… I remember the cave. I could see the sky from there too. But it was much darker yet less scarier than it is here. The walls in this place feel like they’re going to close in on me at any moment. Yet the cave stood still. I miss it a bit. But the birdman is there too. I don’t miss the birdman. He’s creepy.

Speaking of birds, one is happily chirping its heart out. I recognize it to be a canary. We have quite a lot of those around our house. They sing so wonderfully at night. The best lullaby I had during lonely nights. Its gorgeous yellow colour resembles a star. Sticking out like a sore thumb in the darkness of the sky.

I whistle to respond to it and it notices me, it tries to come my way but it fails. Because a ray of light shoots out of nowhere and it disappears with it. With only a line of smoke emitting from the ground below left in its wake.

My heart jumps and drops to my stomach. I was hunched over the window watching the burned spot on the ground, seeing a few feathers scattered about. Did it die? What killed it? That light. What is with that light? Where did it come from?

I angle my body ever so slightly to face the windows from above yet nothing suggested to be the culprit. No one even. The bird. That poor bird.

I hear scuffling from below and I see people come out with brooms and things I don’t recognize. But they clean, they scrub the floors clean and burn all the remaining feathers with their hands. My body staggers back. A bird just got killed by god. What's so shocking about that? Where else would the light come from? It’s still black out and the winds are slow and gentle. I sat myself slowly on the bed. My heart still thinks it's in a derby race.

Why did it die? What killed it? What did it do? Was it my fault? Was it because I called it? If I hadn’t called it would it have died? What did I do?

I slam my face into the softness of the pillow and let myself be smothered, feeling the hardness of something under, I remember the book I stuffed in there.

My hands were trembling from the shock of it all. The bird is dead but how and why? I know this world is weird but dear god is it scary.

I had the book in my hands, the title etched on with a sense of care. I flip it to the first page and it reads… “Eyes are everywhere. Everywhere there are eyes. Must you have any doubts, look up to the sky.”

“They never stay up there. They seldom look. If you dare be sneaky, be not hidden, soar up high there in the open.”

“Fairly easy to figure out. It’s your right to make it complex. Crafted so simply yet mould it with depth. You are a creation, my greatest. My best.”

“A guide to all I’ve made for the best I never get to keep.”

A guide…

I flipped through the other pages, unsure of what I hoped to see but all I found were sketches of odd things, notes attached, numbered reports, angry doodles and other entries that were too long for me to read until a knock came to my door.

The book isn’t mine. I am technically a thief. So  I have to return it. So nobody can find out I have it. I’ll put it back and nobody will know it was ever gone. By then I will not be a man of sticky fingers and good sleight of hand. Sleight of hand? I didn’t even slip it in anywhere. Wel… Not until last night. Somebody just shoved it into my arms. SO technically I am not  a thief but an accomplice. I can still be an accomplice even if I put it back though. Oh but if I’m caught I’ll just tell them the truth. ‘But the one who handed you that book has long been deceased.’

Oh yeah, the one who handed me the book was a ghost. Ghosts can’t be convicted right? If they could then- wait… WHAT THE FUCK WHO SAID THAT?

‘Said it? You thought about it.’ NO I DIDN’T. ‘Oh but you did.’ NO I DID NOT AND WAIT A MINUTE I’M NOT EVEN TALKING WHO THE FUCK IS IN MY HEAD. WHY ARE YOU IN MY HEAD? GET OUT OF MY HEAD! ‘Dear me, you’re chirpier than that canary.’

I recognise that voice. I heard it the same day I came here. Such boredom yet so much amusement. It’s the birdman.

‘Birdman. Speak for yourself chickling.’

I will not question anything.

…

Scratch that I will question everything.

Why are you in my head? How did you get here? How’re you doing that? And where did you disappear off too before and why did you reappear now?

‘Your head is a very spacious one, quite trouble-free to enter. And your despair summoned me back to link with you. Be overjoyed in mortal amenities and I will disappear once again, if you so wish.’ What’s that supposed to mean? ‘Whatever you decide it to be.’ Okay… Vague birdman has coined for my thoughts. I do not like it. I shall issue you a refund. I’d rather you speak to me directly rather than invade my thoughts. ‘I can not.’ Why not? ‘You saw what they did to the canary.’ They really killed the birdie? ‘They did.’

But why?

‘I hope you never ask me that question again.’

…

But why?

‘I never have an answer to it.’

You can answer anything.

‘I do not have it.’

Why not? Is giving a straight answer so difficult?

‘Nothing ever satisfies mortals. Contentment is not a virtue of humankind.’

A feeling of disappointment sucked me in, and a strange sense of desire followed through with it. I guess he’s right that we’re never content

“I want to see you.” I actually spoke. I looked out the window expectantly. I don’t even know why I asked for that. I waited for that mutated twisted face of his to come soaring in like the canary should’ve had but he never did.

‘I cannot honour that wish.’

“Are you scared?”

‘Petrified.’

“Of what?”

‘For you.’ For me? Why? What did I do? ‘Dearest child. I hope I did not ruin you.’

Ruin me? Why would you ruin me?