Blackwater Islands was hypnotized by a strange delight

He was here, he wasn't here. He heard, he didn't hear; but then the ghost said one word that set him off again, wailing: Melonii.

Not coughing this time but curling in to as tight a ball as his body would allow, which was a feat in and of itself; still ruined as it was by his near-drowning, and the spider net that had rooted him to the beach.

He spasmed and moaned, shaking his head, rocking, crying, kicking at the dirt and the wall, to force the very idea away.