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Henri Fuseli
The Nightmare exhibited 1782
Oil on canvas, 1210 x 1473 x 89 mm
Lent by the Detroit Institute of Arts, Founders Society Purchase with funds from Mr and Mrs Bert L. Smokler and Mrs Lawrence A. Fleischman
The Nightmare exhibited 1782
Oil on canvas, 1210 x 1473 x 89 mm
Lent by the Detroit Institute of Arts, Founders Society Purchase with funds from Mr and Mrs Bert L. Smokler and Mrs Lawrence A. Fleischman
The Nightmare
scenario by Caspar Siddique, age 17
The darkness suffocated my eyes. The opiate vapour secreting from the moon trickled over the distant mountains and seeped through the black branches of the weeping trees, glazing my dried eyes as it shone through the windowpane. The world outside was lonely as it glowed silently under the moon. No one was there, it seemed as if I was alone with her in the world. She turned in her sleep: something was tormenting her mind. Her plump lips quivered in fear, the same quivering I had witnessed when discovering the sinful acts she committed to fulfil the desires of her deceitful mind. I did what I had to do to save her soul: sinners get not into heaven but are dragged to hell. I killed him for her sake: adultery is a mortal sin which I had to purge her from. She did not know what I had done, she never would. I sat on my chair as she turned in the bed, watching her silently in the flickering candlelight as she slept. Then from behind the curtain a rustling began, quickly causing the blood red curtains to billow. From behind the curtain an unwelcome sinister demon crawled onto the bed and sat on her torso, curled up his knees and glared at her. He waited until her face was creased in pain and when he was done he turned to me. His look of anger burnt my soul and I knew why he was here, to take me. And as I gasped and quivered with terror the white horse of death showed his face from behind the blood curtain and sniggered at my inevitable doom, his cloudy eyes seeing deeper into me than any other living soul had ever before.
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