I stood in front of the Funhouse mirror today. It didn’t twist me or stretch me. It just showed me… me. Same old me. The one with the big shoes and the blank frown. A familiar, hollow shell. Then my reflection grinned. A jagged, sharp thing it wasn’t supposed to do. I reached out to touch the glass and it reached back with claws, pulling me through into the screaming on the other side. Now I don't know which side of the glass I'm really on. Is the silence my own, or just another echo in this endless hall?