The Tell - Tale Heart

True! I was and still am incredibly anxious; however, why do you think I am crazy? My sensibilities had not been destroyed, dulled, or blunted by the illness. The acute hearing perception stood out above all else. I heard everything that happened in the heavens and on earth. In hell, I heard a lot of stuff. So why am I crazy? Hearken! and take note of how sturdily—how serenely—I can recount the entire tale to you.

It's impossible to explain how the idea first came to me, but once it did, it followed me around all day and night. There was no object. There was no passion. I adored the elderly guy. He had never done me wrong. He had never insulted me. I had no wish to possess his gold. Yes, it was this, I believe it was his eye. One of his eyes had a film covering it and was a light blue color, like a vulture's eye. My blood would instantly turn cold whenever it touched me, so I gradually -- very gradually -- decided to kill the elderly man in order to permanently get rid of the eye.

Herein lies the key idea. You think I'm crazy. Madmen are ignorant. But you ought to have noticed me. You should have seen how carefully I moved forward, how cautiously, strategically, and deceitfully I started working! The entire week leading up to the elderly man's death was the kindest I had ever been to him. And every night, around midnight, I opened his door — oh, so delicately — by turning the lock. After creating a space large enough for my head, I inserted a dark lantern that was completely covered so that no light could escape, and then I pushed in my head. Oh, if you had seen how slyly I pushed it in, you would have chuckled! I moved it very, very slowly in order to avoid waking the elderly guy. It took me an hour to get my entire head inside the gap far enough to see him lying in his bed. Would a lunatic have been so clever as this, you ask? When I felt comfortable in the space, I carefully — oh, so carefully — undid the lantern until a single, slender ray dropped upon the vulture's eye. I did this because the lantern's hinges were creaking. Every morning as the sun came up, I entered the room fearlessly and spoke bravely to him, addressing him by name in a rousing voice and asking how he had spent the previous night. You can see that he would have had to be a very wise old man to guess that every night at exactly twelve, I peeked in on him as he slept.

On the eighth night, I was far more cautious than normal when I opened the door. The minute hand of a watch travels faster than mine did. I had never before felt how strong and cunning I really was until that night. I struggled to contain my emotions of victory. It's amazing to think that while I was opening the door, he wasn't even aware of my thoughts or actions. I actually laughed at the thought; perhaps he heard me because he abruptly shifted positions on the bed, appearing startled. You might now assume that I withdrew, but I didn't. Since the shutters were tightly fastened out of fear of robbers, his room was pitch-black, and I knew he couldn't see the door opening, I continued to force it open steadily, steadily.

When my thumb slid on the tin fastening as I had my head inside and was about to open the lantern, the elderly man jumped up from the bed and yelled, "Who's there?"

I remained silent and stood still. I did not move for an entire hour, and during that time, I did not hear him lay down. He was still listening while sitting up in bed, just as I had done every night while listening to the wall-mounted death watches.

I suddenly heard a faint moan, and I immediately recognized it as the groan of mortal fear. Oh no, it wasn't a groan of agony or grief; instead, it was the low, muffled sound that emerges from the depths of the spirit when overwhelmed by awe. The tone was one I was familiar with. It has frequently welled up from my own heart right at midnight, when everyone else was asleep, intensifying my distractions with its terrible echo. I claim to have a thorough understanding of it.

Despite my inner chuckle, I felt sorry for the old guy because I understood how he felt. Since the first faint murmur, when he turned in the bed, I knew he had been awake. Since then, his worries had grown on him. He had tried to think of them as causeless, but he was unsuccessful. He had been telling himself things like, "It's just the wind in the chimney, just a mouse moving across the floor, or just a cricket making a single chirp." Yes, he has been making these assumptions to console himself, but his efforts have been in vain. All in futile, as Death had surrounded the victim as he approached, stalking him with his ominous black shadow. He didn't see or hear my head in the room, but he was still able to sense its presence due to the melancholy influence of the unnoticed shadow.

I made the decision to open a very small crevice in the lantern after a long period of patiently waiting without hearing him lay down. You have no idea how stealthily I opened it, but eventually a single dim ray, resembling the thread of a spider, shot out of the crevice and landed upon the vulture's eye.

I was enraged as I looked at it because it was exposed—wide, wide open. I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person because I had focused the ray exactly on the cursed spot as if by instinct. It was all a dull blue color with a hideous veil covering it that chilled the very marrow of my bones.

— Now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, like a watch making when it is wrapped in cotton. Have I not informed you that what you mistake for madness is simply over-acuteness of the senses? I was also familiar with that sound. It was the elderly man's heartbeat. My rage was heightened because a soldier's courage is boosted by the sound of a drum.

But even so, I held back and remained motionless. I hardly took a breath. I did not move as I held the light. I made an effort to keep the ray shining on the eye steady. Meanwhile, the devilish heart tattoo got worse. It intensified moment by moment, becoming louder and louder. The elderly man must have been extremely terrified! Every instant, I would say, it became louder! Do you label me correctly? I've already admitted to being anxious, so here I am. And now, in the middle of that old house's terrifying stillness at the dead of the night, such a strange noise as this terrified me beyond all control. Still, I held back for a few more minutes and remained motionless. But the pounding became increasingly louder! I believed that my heart would break. I was now overcome with a new worry: my neighbor would hear the noise! The time had arrived for the old man! I yelled loudly, flung open the lamp, and jumped into the space. He let out one and only one scream. I quickly hauled him to the ground and dragged the large bed over him. The action had been completed, so I grinned broadly. But the pulse continued to beat for several minutes inaudibly.

If you still think I'm crazy, reading about the sensible measures I took to hide the corpse will make you stop thinking that. As the night grew darker, I labored quickly but silently. I started by removing the corpse's parts. The cranium, arms, and legs were all amputated by me.

I then retrieved three boards from the chamber's floor and placed them all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards in such a deft, cunning manner that not even his human sight could have seen anything amiss. Nothing needed to be cleaned up, not even a bloodstain of any kind. I was too cautious for that. All had been trapped in a tub—ha! ha!

When I finished these tasks, it was four o'clock and still pitch-black outside. There was a tap on the street door as the hour bell rang. What had I now to dread, I thought as I descended to open it. Three men soon arrived and announced themselves as police officers with absolute style. A neighbor reported hearing a shriek in the middle of the night, which led to suspicions of foul play, information being reported to the police, and the officers being sent to investigate the area.

What had I to dread, I thought as I grinned? I welcomed the gents. I claimed that I had made the scream while dreaming. I stated that the elderly man wasn't in the countryside. I showed my guests every room in the home. I commanded them to thoroughly search. Finally, I took them to his room. I showed them his safe, unmolested possessions. I brought chairs into the room and asked people to sit on them so they could rest from their fatigues, all while I, in the wild audacity of my perfect victory, positioned my own seat directly over the body of the victim.

The police were pleased. They were persuaded by my demeanor. I felt incredibly comfortable. They sat and talked about topics they were familiar with as I cheerfully responded. But before long, I noticed my skin turning pale and hoped they would leave. My ears were ringing and my brain hurt, but they continued to sit and talk despite my complaints. The ringing intensified as I spoke more openly to get rid of the sensation, but it persisted and gained clarity until, at last, I realized that the noise was not coming from inside my ears.

Villains!” "Dissemble no more!" I yelled. I acknowledge the act! — rip the boards apart! – right here! — it is his monstrous heart pounding!