![]() ![]() And every night, late at night, I turned the lock of his door and opened it – oh, so gently! And then, when I had made an opening big enough for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed that no light shone out, and then I stuck in my head. I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. ![]() You should have seen how wisely and carefully I went to work! Whenever it fell on me, my blood ran cold and so - very slowly - I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and free myself of the eye forever. I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! He had the eye of a bird, a vulture - a pale blue eye, with a film over it. It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain. How, then, am I mad? Observe how healthily - how calmly I can tell you the whole story. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. True! Nervous - very, very nervous I had been and am! But why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses - not destroyed them.Ībove all was the sense of hearing. Today we present the short story "The Tell-Tale Heart" by Edgar Allan Poe. ![]()
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