Then

They were all around him. They were closing in. He was finding it hard to breathe. Their moving jaws and flashing teeth, unbearable. The many voices blended and meshed till it was completely unintelligible.

The interrogation continued. He was frantic, screaming and answering their many winding tales.

But they were never satisfied. They pressed and pounded, they scraped and clawed.

But the safe comforts of reality slipped, he began to sink, sink into the pavement. He was caught as in a tree, with two branches holding him, swaying side to side in the breeze so he would not fall between.

Then his sight suddenly cleared and he was in a small dark room between two tall formidable figures. He shrank from them.

It was as if they had not noticed him. Good. He slank lower till he looked like a small shivering black lump.

Then there was sound. He peered at the giants, monsters. But they gave no indication as to where the sound had come from. Their eyes strangely transfixed, flickering.

Then his weak bleeding eyes beheld what the formidable masses on either side of him had been gaping at. Upon the wall was light, in strange transcription.

The cryptic marks upon the smooth surface burned into his eyes. The sound was emerging from the cryptic symbols.

Then something frightening happened, the marks melted, turned to liquid, then reformed into equally as ambiguous tokens. They must be magical, sorcerers. Thoughts of extensive exotic evil filled his mind as he imagined what gruesome fates might be in store for his puny insignificant life.

The sound was muffled, bland, unintelligible. Like having his ears stuffed full of styrofoam. Then the sound stopped completely.

Then the walls closed in, heating up.

The giants. Where were they. He was alone, trapped. He was sweating. He felt the hot side of the box close around his frail shaking body.

The air. There was no air. He gasped. The box squoze tighter. The air became thinner. He fought for his breath. The sides were crushing his shoulders.

Then it began to shake. Softly at first, then harder, then violently. He was thrown about the tight confines of the box, bruising, crushing.

He pushed against the sides. He slammed himself against the wall. Then suddenly the box constricted, small, tiny. No air.

He fought for his last breath, his bleeding tongue trapped between his clenched teeth. It would not come, there was no air, no space.

He finally shuddered and went still.
The door guard peered through the small window in the door constricted by bulging soft pads at the sprawled figure on the floor with it's chest moving slightly.

He sighed and looked back at his paper. The main headline read, "Presidential Candidate Goes Insane."

"Darn shame," muttered the man.
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