"Whispers from the Shadows: Haunting Tales of the Unseen"

Sure! Edgar Allan Poe's short story "The Tell-Tale Heart" was first released in 1843. The story can be read in its entirety here:

It is accurate! Yes, I have indeed been terribly sick. But why do you believe I'm insane? Instead of impairing my senses, the illness has just made them more acute. I hear a lot of things, from the earth to heaven and hell. I hear a lot of things that others do not hear. It's amazing how calmly and healthily I can tell you the entire thing.

I'm not sure how the notion came to me in the first place, but once it did, it followed me everywhere I went. No object was present. There was hardly a trace of passion. I was in love with the elderly man. He'd done me no harm. I had never been insulted by him.I had no desire for his gold. It was his eye, I believe! Indeed, this was it! He had a vulture's eye, a pale blue eye covered in a film. My blood flowed cold whenever it struck me, therefore I gradually decided to kill the old guy in order to permanently remove the eye from my body.

This brings us to our point. You think I'm crazy. Crazy people don't know anything. I mean, you ought to have seen me. You ought to have witnessed the wisdom with which I moved forward, the prudence, the forethought, and the dissimulation with which I set to work! The entire week before I killed the old guy, I was the nicest man to him than I had ever been. Additionally, each night around midnightI carefully opened his door by turning the latch. After creating a space big enough for my head, I inserted a dark lantern and made sure it was completely closed to prevent any light from coming out before inserting my head. Oh, you would have laughed when you saw how slyly I inserted it! To avoid disturbing the elderly man's sleep, I moved it really slowly. It took me an hour to get my head inside the aperture far enough to see him lying on his bed. Hehe! Could such wisdom have come from a madman? Once my head was firmly in the room, I then undid thelantern I loosened it just enough so a single, narrow ray of light shone upon the vulture eye, and I did so very carefully—oh, so very carefully—cautiously (for the hinges groaned). And I performed this for seven sleepless nights, always right at midnight, but I discovered that the eye was always closed. As a result, I was unable to complete the task since his Evil Eye, not the old man, was the source of my annoyance. And when the day dawned each morning, I went fearlessly into the room and talked bravely to him, addressing him by name in a robust voice, and asking how he had spent the previous evening. You see, he must have been a very wise old man to believe that I checked in on him every night at precisely twelve o'clock, He took a nap.

On the eighth night, I opened the door with more caution than normal. The minute hand on a watch ticks off time faster than mine did. I had never felt the full force of my own abilities, my sagacity, until that night. It was difficult for me to control my feelings of victory. To think that as I was slowly opening the door, he was not even dreaming of my hidden actions or thoughts. I laughed a little at the thought, and maybe he heard me because he shifted on the bed as if he was alarmed. It may seem like I've pulled back, but I haven't. Because the shutters were tightly closed out of fear of robbers, his chamber was as dark as pitch, andI continued to push the door on gently, steadily, knowing that he could not see its opening.

I was going to open the lantern with my head in it when my thumb caught on the tin clasp, causing the elderly guy to jump up from his bed and exclaim, "Who's there?"

I remained motionless and remained silent. I did not move a muscle for an entire hour, and throughout that time I did not hear him fall. He remained sitting upright in bed, listening to the death watches in the wall, exactly as I have done, night after night.

I heard a faint moan right now, and I recognized it as the moan of eternal fear. It was not a moan.I continued to push the door on gently, steadily, knowing that he could not see its opening.

I was going to open the lantern with my head in it when my thumb caught on the tin clasp, causing the elderly guy to jump up from his bed and exclaim, "Who's there?"

I remained motionless and remained silent. I did not move a muscle for an entire hour, and throughout that time I did not hear him fall. He remained sitting upright in bed, listening to the death watches in the wall, exactly as I have done, night after night.Oh no, it was the quiet, muffled sound that emerges from the depths of the spirit when one is overcome with wonder, not a cry of pain or grief. I was familiar with the sound. Often at midnight, while everyone else was asleep, the terrors that kept me awake have welled up from my own chest and deepened with their terrible echo. I claim to have a thorough understanding of it. I understood the elderly man's pain and felt sorry for him, even though I secretly laughed. Since the first faint sound he made when he turned in bed, I knew he had been lying awake. Since then, his anxieties had been intensifying. Though he tried, he was unable to imagine them to be causeless. It was what he had been telling himself.is only a mouse moving across the floor—it's nothing more than the wind in the chimney—or "It's just a cricket that's made one chirp." Indeed, he had been attempting to console himself with these assumptions, but he had discovered nothing. All in vain as Death had surrounded the victim and stalked ahead of him with his dark shadow. And it was the melancholy effect of the unseen shadow that made him sense—even if he wasn't seeing or hearing—that my head was in the space.

I decided to open a tiny—a very, very tiny crevice in the lantern after waiting a very long time and patiently without hearing him lie down. I thus opened it, and youcannot conceive how quietly, quietly—until, finally, a simple, dim beam, like the spider's thread, shot out of the crack and landed squarely on the vulture eye.

It was open, wide open, and looking at it made me angry. I could see it perfectly clearly; it was all a dull blue with a terrible mist over it that made my bones tingle. However, I was unable to see the old man's face or person since I had focused the beam exactly where it was supposed to be, as if out of instinct.

And did I not tell you that what you take for insanity is actually an overabundance of senses?—Now, I say, I heard a fast, dull, low sound that sounded likeA watch looks nice when it's wrapped in cotton. I was also familiar with that sound. It was the sound of the elderly man's heart beating. The way a drum beats inspires bravery in soldiers made me even more enraged.

But even so, I held back and remained motionless. I was breathing heavily. I stood holding the lantern still. I made an effort to hold the light on the eye as steadily as possible. In the interim, the horrific heart tattoo got bigger. It increased in speed and volume at an exponential rate every second. The old man must have been quite terrified! I say that it got louder by the minute!—do you think kindly of me? You know that I'm anxious, and I really am. And now, in the middle of the night, amid the dead ofA watch looks nice when it's wrapped in cotton. I was also familiar with that sound. It was the sound of the elderly man's heart beating. The way a drum beats inspires bravery in soldiers made me even more enraged.

A watch looks nice when it's wrapped in cotton. I was also familiar with that sound. It was the sound of the elderly man's heart beating. The way a drum beats inspires bravery in soldiers made me even more enraged.

But even so, I held back and remained motionless. I was breathing heavily. I stood holding the lantern still. I made an effort to hold the light on the eye as steadily as possible. In the interim, the horrific heart tattoo got bigger. It increased in speed and volume at an exponential rate every second. The old man must have been quite terrified! I say that it got louder by the minute!—do you think kindly of me? You know that I'm anxious, and I really am. And now, in the middle of the night, amid the dead ofA watch looks nice when it's wrapped in cotton. I was also familiar with that sound. It was the sound of the elderly man's heart beating. The way a drum beats inspires bravery in soldiers made me even more enraged.

A watch looks nice when it's wrapped in cotton. I was also familiar with that sound. It was the sound of the elderly man's heart beating. The way a drum beats inspires bravery in soldiers made me even more enraged.

But even so, I held back and remained motionless. I was breathing heavily. I stood holding the lantern still. I made an effort to hold the light on the eye as steadily as possible. In the interim, the horrific heart tattoo got bigger. It increased in speed and volume at an exponential rate every second. The old man must have been quite terrified! I say that it got louder by the minute!—do you think kindly of me? You know that I'm anxious, and I really am. And now, in the middle of the night, amid the dead ofThe awful quietness of that ancient home, such an odd sound as this, terrified me beyond measure. But for a few more minutes, I abstained and remained motionless. However, the beating became more intense! I felt like the heart had to break. And now a new fear gripped me: a neighbor would hear the sound! It was the old man's hour! I let out a loud cry, flung open the light, and jumped into the chamber. He let out a single, loud cry. I swiftly hauled him to the ground and covered him with the weighty bed. Then, seeing that the deed was completed, I grinned broadly. However, the heart beat softly for several minutes. But this didn't irritate me; it wouldnot be audible via the wall. Eventually, it stopped. The elderly man had passed away. I took the bed off and looked over the body. Indeed, he was lifeless as stone. I touched the heart and held it there for several minutes. There was no heartbeat. He had passed out. I would no longer be troubled by his eye.

If you still think I'm crazy, you won't when I tell you about the sensible measures I took to hide the body. As the night was getting shorter, I worked quickly yet silently. I started by dismembering the body. I severed the head, limbs, and appendages.

I then grabbed three planks off the chamber's floor and placed them there.in between the sparse pieces. I then reinstalled the boards in such a sly and devious way that not even his own human sight could have found anything amiss. Nothing could be cleaned up—not a single stain, not a single bloodstain. I was too cautious for that. It was all captured in a tub—ha! ha!

By the time I finished my labors, it was four o'clock and as dark as midnight. There was a knock at the street door just as the hour bell rang. With a light heart, I went down to open it, wondering what I had to fear now. Three men came in and introduced themselves as police officers with impeccable style. A neighbor had heard a shriek throughout the night; there was a suspicion of foul play.had been sparked; a report had been made to the police department, and the policemen were assigned to conduct a search of the area.

What had I to fear, I thought as I grinned. I welcomed the gentlemen. I answered, "It was my own shriek in a dream." I indicated that the old man was not in the nation. I showed my guests every part of the house. I told them to search, and they did. Eventually, I guided them to his room. I displayed to them his valuables, safe and undisturbed. With all the joy that accompanied my confidence, I carried in the chairs and asked them to take a nap while I, in the sheer boldness of my flawless victory, took a seat on the exact area where they had been lying.the deceased victim's body.

The cops were happy. My demeanor had persuaded them. I felt really comfortable. They sat and talked about things they knew, to which I replied in a positive manner. However, before long, I started to feel pallid and wished they would disappear. Even though my head hurt and I thought my ears were ringing, they continued to sit and talk. At some point, I realized that the noise was outside of my ears since the ringing was getting louder and more noticeable. I tried talking more to stop it from happening, but it never went away.

I must admit that I became really pale at this point, but my voice was higher and I spoke more clearly. Still, the noise got louder—what could I do? It wasA rapid, dull, deep sound, similar to the sound a watch produces when it's wrapped in cotton. I let out a gasp, but the cops did not hear me. I spoke louder and faster, but the commotion only got louder. I got up and started arguing loudly and angrily over trifles, but the commotion didn't stop. Why wouldn't they have vanished? I strode across the floor in hard footsteps, seemingly incensed by the men's views, but the noise kept getting louder. God, I don't know what to do. I swore, I foamed, and I raved! I swung the chair I was sitting in and ground it on the boards, but the noise persisted and got louder still. It became louder and louder! AdditionallyStill, the men grinned and had great conversations. Could it be that they didn't hear? All-powerful God!No, no! They were informed!—they had a suspicion!They were aware!—they were laughing at my fear!—I thought, and I thought, and I thought. But anything was preferable to this suffering! Anything was better than this mockery! I had had enough of those pretentious smiles! I had the want to scream or perish!—and now, once again!—ouch! More volume, more volume, more volume!

"Tyrants!" I cried out, "Stop shaking! I acknowledge the act!—rip the planks apart!—right here!—It's his grotesque heartbeat thumping!