And when I looked out I saw that we were heading fast 
upon a series of Iron gates set in stone, wickedly 
arched, and crowned with tall spikes. But what unnerved 
me completely was beyond the gates, a set of doors, 
heavy and wooden, pointed arched towering higher than 
any entrance to any building I had ever seen. Crossed 
with iron bars, and studded with heavy bolts, the doors 
were set in a great wall that appeared to be protecting 
whatever waited inside.

So paralyzed was I by the sight before me, I did not 
notice that we had already driven past the first of the 
three spiked gates guarding access to the door, until I 
heard it crashing to a close behind us. Where am I? A 
short drive onward and we were at the second gate, I 
turned to look behind me and saw the gates closing, one 
after the other by power of unseen hands, or simply 
through years of habit more accustomed were they to 
being closed than opened. Were these gates erected for 
the protection of this great establishment? For the 
security of these admirable administers of magical 
medicines? Were these prison bars meant to keep 
intruders out, or to keep its inhabitants in?

With each turn of the wheels that brought me closer to 
the last gate, I tried harder to drown out the answer 
to my questions with whatever music I could conjure 
into my head. Approaching the third, I began to lose my 
grasp on reality. I imagined we were going in circles, 
driving through the same gates over and over again, 
endlessly circling. As though there were a certain 
number of rotations that must be completed before 
access to this unknown world was granted to us. I 
thought of the lock on the cabinet in my music master's 
study, the one with four lettered plates that had to be 
rotated a definite amount, and then aligned in a 
perfect secret order before it would open. I had once 
unlocked it.

I felt dizzy, and much too warm. The wind screamed 
around the carriage, the wheels rattled, and though the 
gate was close ahead, we seemed to be eternally racing 
towards it, making no progress. A bird, something like 
a Raven, but a great deal larger, soared overhead, and, 
emitting a strange, metallic growl into the blackening 
sky, circled above the ever-approaching gates. As it 
did so, I caught sight of the sharp spikes gleaming in 
the pummeling rain. Still galloping at full speed, I 
heard the muffled squeals of what sounded like a swarm 
of insects.

Looking out, I swore I saw, though I did not believe my 
eyes at the time, a great pack of rodents, perhaps a 
hundred, perhaps more, sleek furry bodies skimming the 
Earth leaping over each other, black eyes sparkling. A 
quivering mass, they swam over the cobblestones like 
one creature, Squids ink, spilling into water, and 
infecting it with deep black in seconds. How they were 
able to keep up with the horses mystified me, and when 
the swarm dispersed, and shot on ahead of us, they 
darted in and out beneath the wheels of the carriage 
and around the Horses hammering hooves, yet, were never 
trampled. I followed them with my eyes as they melded 
together again and slipped beneath the gate to the 
other side like a gush of dark water, the tide coming 
in.

It was all so ghastly, so intoxicating, my body 
convulsed in a quivering wave, somewhere between 
horror, and wild anticipation. And then, the final gate 
having slammed closed behind us, we were at the 
ultimate precipice at last. Three, two, one. The doors 
began to open, there was an awful grinding of metal, a 
clashing of loosened chains. And with the skies seeming 
to come down around us, it appeared. The Asylum.