When I was a boy, my grandmother told me old stories about the nidgit. She said they could come to you in the night, steal your sanity, and stick it in a strawman that looked just like you. She said that once a nidgit made a copy of you in straw, there was nothing you could do to stop the madness. I don’t believe the stories. You don’t believe them either, do you? You don’t believe that I will go mad. It must... it must be this nidgit that is causing all these problems. He riled up the swamp flies. He stole my tools. He brought the worms... all to drive me mad. I’ll show him who is mad. I’ll kill him dead... but how will I know who he is? Maybe I should kill everyone, just to be safe. Anyone could be the Nidgit. I have to kill everyone! Bring me my blades!

• A Little Man (A Little Man completed)