I inhaled the thick, sweet smoke of the opium and laid back on the chaise-longue. As I surrendered myself to the mystifying ecstasy of the drug, I gazed through the haze to the other side of the opium den. Fifteen other men filled the dark room, each one lying in such a manner as to show the potent effects of the poppy. The room itself, lit by a single candelabrum, cast dark shadows over the urine and blood stained floor. Each shadow fell upon the faces of the occupants, forming a gruesome assembly of phantasms.
As the effects of the opium set in, my gaze fell upon a foul man with a red, puffy face. My loathing of this accursed man was instant and as I gazed, red droplets of blood appeared on his face. Convulsions and death were soon to follow, and as this apoplectic Red Death set in, my mind was filled with the incessant ticking and pounding of a pendulum counting down the minutes of a large clock. The pounding resonated in my mind until each sound shook my very soul and there seemed no release from this agonising noise. After sixty terrifying beats the ticking turned into a monstrous chime which surely appeased the devil with the terror and pain that it inflicted upon me. when at last the ominous chiming was gone from my mind I felt relief course through my body, but alas! The ticking returned. As I writhed in agony at each tick, I saw the dark room fill with colour - walls, tapestries and window were all turned blue - and masked phantoms flooded in, whirling and dancing in a frenzy to a silent song. But through all came the interminable metronomic ticking!
As I lay amidst the revelry, frozen with fear by the pounding that coursed through my body, the cold noise of the chime returned, whereupon the phantoms dissapated and the room was soaked in a black deeper than night. Only the dusty window retained any colour, turning to a deep red. The red of blood. My eye was drawn to the door, and the arrival of a masked figure shrouded in the habiliments of the grave. The mask, concealing all aspects of the visage, resembled a stiffened corpse. Each occupant of the room (lit now by the lit of two candles, all others extinguished on the arrival of the masked phantasm) began to convulse. Each had blood streaming out of their pores and vile screams escaping their crimson, blood-stained lips. As the last man released his final breath the figure vanished into the smoke of the opium. The chimes at last were quieted as the last man fell, and all was silent. It was the heavy, solemn silence of death. Although all of my phantasmogoric conceptions had evaporated, a scream ripped from my lungs, reverberating around the room. I felt some relief from this cry, and so fell into the deep, fanciful sleep from which the opium eater is irreclaimable.

Upon my wakening, the sobriety that I felt was astounding. All of my wild fantasies had been unfounded - even the loathsome creature across the den was what must be termed alive (for who can judge who truly lives?). I found that I could do nothing but weep for joy, to the utter confusion of my companions. I resolved to set forth my account of the night's events, that others may see as I saw.

Copyright © Catriona Elizabeth Mowat 2006