Pearl River Delta: Asylum

Macau, March 1968 

Night crept in soundlessly, engulfing all that stands in its way. 

The Pearl River Asylum stood and stared down upon me, a giant awakening at the dead of the night. Everything was so sombre and quiet; as if I was blind and deaf, a vulnerable feeling I would never forget

“Hello Miss Heong, the front door is this way.” A dark figure appeared in front of my face; silent and soulless. 

“Yes, thank you.” I answered as agitation filled me. 

The doctor led me through a maze of rooms and stopped in front of his office, and he gestured me in. 

Inside was full of antique, mahogany furniture, old and obsolete. Doctor Lin and I talked about my problems, it was then decided I would have to stay here for a few days for my inspection. 

‘It’s ok, only a few days.’

Now that’s what I’d thought. 

***             

The hallways, the floors, all groaning with each step I took to my room. Room 414, a demonic number in Macau. Fortunately, I was sharing the room with another woman named San.

We got along well, probably because we were both here for the same reason. Towards the end of our conversation, she told me that one of us has to stay after inspection, it’s the rules of this inhumane Asylum. One must stay, forever. 

I woke up on a cloudless morning feeling forlorn, and I knew the torture, the grief, were all to come. Below my window, there’s the Pearl River Delta. People here call it the River of Sin because of the 414 deaths it was responsible for in the early 1800s. Victims in this tragedy were all mentally ill. They jumped in the river as if it was a safe haven, for the insane. 

So thats why they built this Asylum, to prevent further deaths. 

***

I have been here for a few days but it feels like I’d lived here all my life. 

Doctors here don’t alleviate our illnesses, they maltreat and afflict non-stop until they force things they want out of us. 

On my first day, I’d already been on the electric chair, twice. I don’t know about San because we rarely talk now but I’m positive she’s somewhere else experiencing the same, or worse. I have already been thinking to myself multiple times that I need to jump in that river, at least drowning is better than this, at least my soul will be released into freedom. 

Walking in this hallway was something I’ve learnt to despise on my first day here: thin strips of paint, peeling it’s way off like rows of ants determined to make it’s way down, and lights flickering, dying out making the ceiling a deep, black hole. 

This, a place of sorrow, of broken hearts and minds, especially at night. Ear-piercing screams of pain and nightmares echo down the hallway. I always have multiple nightmares throughout the night, but that has become archaic here. We were never short on nightmares. 

At the end of another hallway, lies a room. A room that all of us are forbidden to go, because in there, they preserve the corpses. All the people who die in here, do not go home, but there. Eventually, it will be full and all the bodies will be thrown into the river. Before I came in, I’d heard enough about people complaining about the nauseating smell and taste they get from the Pearl River. 

Do tell the truth, did you ever drink from the Pearl River? 

***

Macau, January 1969

This, was my first New Year alone, alone with only these books for company in the Asylum’s library. 

I should know after all, its me who’s staying for eternity, but thats expected. I’ve been here for almost a year now and they’ve given me a number. Patient 3209, but other than that, I think I’ve adapted well. Though occasional abuse and neglect does make me have suicidal thoughts but I guess I can get used to that. 

The silence in the library is shrill and the lights were dying out, and suddenly, they were all out. 

That night, was quite boisterous as usual, but there was an atypical sinister atmosphere that I’ve never felt before. Suddenly, lights flickered on and the doors swung open. In popped a young doctor’s head. He had unruly, jet-black hair, an unlined, chiselled face, and deep, furrowed brows with eyes piercing through my soul.

“Happy New Year.” 

He smiled cheerfully but it looked more like an animal baring teeth. 

“Happy New Year to you too, I don’t remember seeing a doctor like you here.” 

I answered, trying to sound amicable. 

“Oh really? I guess because I rarely come out of my office but I’ve been here for a long time. I am Dr. Keng Nan but Keng is fine.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Dr. Keng, I am patient 3209. But Heong would be nice.” 

I added at the end. It has been forever since someone called my real name. We’re all just numbers here. 

“Heong then, and why are you here…” 

And that was how the most interesting conversation I’ve had in a while began. 

***

“But Heong, don’t you ever wonder about the Pearl River curse?”

“No, why? Its like, none of my business anyway.” 

“I don’t believe in curses, everything is all men-made after all.” 

There was a darkness that dominated his eyes for a moment when he said that. 

“What do you mean? Do you know anything about the Pearl River 414 case?”

“Well, yes actually.”

“Then do tell, I would be more than pleased for a tale on New Year.” 

I said eagerly. So he began. 

“There once was doctor who wanted to cure the deranged all his life. One day, he thought he’d found the cure, so he tested it on all the 414 patients available but it turned out there was a fault in it. The Doctor wanted to prevent tragedy but he was too late, the medicine had begun to work. It made the patients hallucinate that the river is where they belong, a haven for their kind. So they suicided in the river. It was that simple.”

“Did anything happen to the doctor afterwards?” I asked eagerly.

“He felt too compunctious to live so he drowned himself in the Pearl River that night.” 

Keng seemed so tired and weary, as if he didn’t rest in years. 

“Are you okay? I should get a cup of water for you.” 

I offered, trying not to sound piteous.

“That would be wonderful, thanks.” 

But when I came back, he was gone. I’d thought I offended the him somehow so I drained the cup and went back to my reading. 

“What’s this?” I mumbled as I pulled out a dusted, vintage book. 

‘History Of Pearl River Delta.’  There was a bookmark inside so I flipped it onto that page. It was an old, sepia newspaper clipping from 1813 about a young doctor who drowned himself in the Pearl River. Though the man I saw was rather bloated, there’s no mistake in the same unruly, jet-black hair, same unlined, chiselled face, and deep, furrowed brows with eyes piercing through my soul.

The man is undoubtedly Dr. Keng Nan.

Night crept in soundlessly, engulfing all that stands in its way. 

The Pearl River Asylum stood and stared down upon me, a giant awakening at the dead of the night.

Author's Note

Hope you guys will enjoy this.