In my
delirium, I thought my room was overran by rats. I tried to fight them off
as they came toward me, but when I thought they were gone I could detect
them stealing under my lounge, and presently they would be gnawing at my
knee, and every time one of them touched me, a thrill of unearthly horror
shot through me. They tore off pieces of my flesh, and I could see these
pieces fall from their bloody jaws. No pen could describe my sickening and
revolting sensations of horror and agony. For sixty days did I lie upon my
back on that couch, unable to turn on either side, or move in any way,
without suffering a thousand deaths. I experienced as much pain as ever was
felt by any mortal being, and it is still a wonder to me how I survived. I
was, on more than one occasion, believed to be dead by my friends, and they
wrapped me in the winding sheet. Even then I was conscious of what they
were doing, and yet I was unable to move a muscle, or speak, or groan. A
horrible fear came over me that they would bury me alive. I seemed to die
at the thought, but, had mountains been heaped upon me, it would have been
as easy for me to show that I was not dead.
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