I awoke with a start from a dark and dreamless sleep to the sound of thundering hoofbeats. I became aware that I was in some mode of conveyance, that I was lying flat on my back. I was unable to see anything, nor was I able to bring hands to face, as there was what seemed to be a heavy wooden plank over me, just an inch or so from my nose. Using my knees, I was able to lift and slide the plank to the side and through the opening, I could look out and see the moonlit landscape speeding by at an ungodly pace.

I noticed that I was lying in some sort of wooden box in the back of a white carriage with glass windows along its sides. This struck me as unusual, as I have driven many carriages over the years and yet had never been in a contraption as odd as this. Looking forward, my eyes fell upon a sight that chilled me to the bone: Although I could hear the snorts and whinnies and hoofs of a team of horses, all I was able to see were the halters and bridles hanging in the air, with not a horse in sight. Nor, upon my notice, did there appear to be a driver for this carriage, which nevertheless was winding its way through a curving mountain pass with a delicacy that belied its tremendous speed. My breathing became shallow and quick, as fear locked an icy hand around my heart. I was so frightened that for a moment (just for a moment) I felt my heart was no longer beating, but I reckoned that to be the work of simple, foolish fear and nothing more. Surely this and nothing more.

After a span of time which seemed as like hours, the carriage came to an abrupt stop at the gate of a large, antebellum mansion, such as had been fashionable in the plantation days of New Orleans, a town of which I had more than a passing knowledge. A door in the rear of the carriage flew open and I was greeted with a rush of chill evening air, damp with humidity and the slight, musty odor of decay; while not an uncommon smell in this land of bayous, there seemed to also be an underlying stink of purification, combined with the immutable feeling of absolute despair. Unseen hands gripped the box I was lying in, and pulled the container out of the carriage, where it fell to the ground. I tumbled out and saw, to my horror, that I had been laying in a coffin; a coffin that had been lying in the back of a funeral hearse. Confusion mingled with terror at the sight, for no matter how hard I tried, I could remember no events to have landed me in this most bizarre of circumstances.

Though the moon was bright, passing clouds threw shadows across the front of the house, obscuring the yard from view. An unexpected flash of lightning briefly illuminated the yard, giving me a momentary view of that which I had not previously seen: scores of grave stones were scattered across the front area of the mansion. My unease grew into something short of terror at the sight of so many grave markers. A deep, gravely voice behind me said "This is where I leave you."

I spun on my heels to face the speaker of these inexplicable words but there was no one in sight. All I saw was the disturbing vision of the halters where the horses I could hear but not see were apparently still tethered. The voice spoke again, gently, "No use looking, sir. You've passed into a different place now. Your destiny lies beyond the gates, within the house. I'm afraid you will have to go through those doors alone." At that, the carriage sped off down the path from which it had come.

I started up the narrow footpath to the front door and when I reached the porch, the door swung open smoothly, as though the house itself had sense my arrival. As I crossed the threshold, I felt hands on my back, gently pushing me toward a rounded room just beyond the foyer. My growing terror was such that resisted the urge to turn and see whoever or whatever was pushing me, not knowing what would be worse: to see who was pushing me or, again, seeing no one at all. With a growing feeling that my life, my destiny, were no longer my own, I walked into the room as a wall panel slid closed behind me, sealing the room from any possible thoughts of exit. As I looked around me, I noticed several portraits hanging upon the walls and to my astonishment, these portraits appeared to be growing, growing from pleasant scenes of unknown persons to macabre tableaus of persons on the brink of horrendous demise. As my mind raced to make sense of what I was seeing, another flash of lightning revealed a lifeless corpse hanging from high above me, accompanied by a blood-curdling scream, which quite possibly came from me. At that moment, a wall panel slid open noiselessly, revealing a dimly lit corridor.

I was no longer in control of my senses, propelled by fear, by panic, by a dark, dawning terror that I dared not yet address. As I proceeded down this grim hallway, I was greeted by sights that were increasingly disturbing, increasingly frightening. More paintings, at first appearing as simple portraits of persons unknown but changing, changing to scenes of terror before my unbelieving eyes and then two marble busts, which, no matter where I moved, seemed to be following my every step. What on earth had I done to warrant my deliverance to such a place?

I found myself being ushered into a strange cart with no driver by a grimly dressed attendant who would answer none of my terrified questions. In the cart I proceeded into darkness, accompanied only by my growing feeling of madness; such were the things I was being forced to bear witness to that I could only think I was losing my mind. I did, however, foster a growing awareness of my situation which, while terrifying, did perhaps explain how I came to be at this most bizarre and unimaginable of places. To my astonishment, I passed by a doors bulging from some unknown stress on the other side, numerous articles seeming to float in midair, a gypsy's crystal ball containing a speaking, disembodied head, and horror of horrors: a coffin, much like that which delivered me to this place, with the lid being lifted by skeletal arms. What terrified me, chilled me to the bone, was that this coffin was sitting in a conservatory much like that which I had constructed in my own home and the eerie voice issuing from the coffin sounded very familiar. I am sure it was simply a trick of the night and my own disturbed senses, but the voice from that grim sepulcher sounded precisely like that of my brother, long-departed many years before.

It was this scene, more than any of the others, that finally allowed my tortured mind to consider the reality of my situation and the events that may have indeed led me to this strange and sorrowful place. Onward into the dark I plunged, even as my mind wrestled to accept a truth too great for me to comprehend, too terrifying to consider. So lost in horrified contemplation was I that I scarcely noticed myself gliding past a grand ballroom, in which spectral guests danced around and around on the floor, to the haunting melody of a pipe organ, played by a cloaked and top-hatted person whom I felt I could see straight through. Surely this was a trick of the light and nothing more.

I then felt a rush of cold air and found myself outside the mansion, and I believe it was at that point that I believe my tortured mind simply snapped. I was in the middle of a graveyard, albeit a different one that that which I saw upon my arrival at this damnable place. Indeed, not ever in my life had I seen anything that could have prepared me for what I saw next. The sheer number of ethereal persons, some rising from graves while others cavorted with their others of their kind, seeing all this brought to me the final, uncompromising understanding of my terrible situation.

I rose from the cart which had brought me here and as I did, a voice behind me, a voice like none I had ever heard before, whispered in my ear:

"End of the line, son. You have arrived"

And with those simple words, the world as I had always known it came crashing down upon me. I saw the faces, heard the voices, of all who I had met and known in my life, from lifelong confederates to casual acquaintances, their voices at first mere murmurs but building quickly to thunderous crescendos, all in apparent competition to each be heard over the rest until I could hear nothing but a deafening roar, until I could see nothing but hundreds of faces rendered all but unrecognizable through my terrified tears. I closed my eyes as tightly as I could, and jammed my fingers deep into my ears, hoping against hope that I could make it all stop. As I tentatively opened my eyes a short while later, I saw that the faces had disappeared and, removing my fingers, I found that their voices had stopped as well. I also found that a calm had befallen me, and a peace that I had never before felt washed over me; a peace that I had not even felt in my happiest of times before arriving at this place. And with this peace and calm, I finally understood what this place was, and why I was there.

A lifetime of treachery, of deceit and thievery, of ignorance, fear, jealousy, anger and rage, had finally caught up with me; I had stolen from or cheated the wrong person, and they had taken the most severe of measures to ensure that I was no longer a stain on the face of the earth. I had no choice but to accept my fate and walk quietly into the gathering mist. I had earned my admission to this unspeakable place. Nowhere else would have me.

I was home.