I swear, I do not understand why you guys think I'm crazy. My illness is not to blunt or destroy my senses, but to sharpen it. The most heavily shaped is my sense of hearing. I can hear everything in heaven and earth, especially in hell. So how could I be crazy? If you still do not believe it, then notice how sane and calm I am telling the whole story.
I still do not know for sure when the idea came into my mind, but as soon as the idea was embedded in my brain, I always felt that someone was haunting me all day and night, so I could not refuse to do it.
Actually I love the old man. Besides, he also never hurt or offended me. I did it not because of his wealth, but because of his eyes! Yes, right. Her eyes! She has a vulture bird's eye with a pale blue color. Every time he looked at me, my blood immediately froze. Finally over time, I decided to take his life so I could be free from the sight of his eyes.
Now the point is this; You guys think I'm crazy, but crazy people do not know anything. You should see how cautious and elegant my way is walking to work! During the week before I killed him, I was very friendly to him. Every night, I open the latch of his bedroom door-oh very slowly! Then I opened the door a little and then put my head in. Oh, you'll laugh at how clever I did it! I moved slowly so as not to disturb her sleep. It took me an hour to get my whole gap open until I could see him lying on the bed. Ha! You think crazy people can be this clever? Then, when my whole head had gone into her room, I carefully turned my lever-oh, I did so very carefully because the lever could make a scream. I twisted my lantern until I could light up his narrow eyes with a dim light. And this I did for a whole week-just in the middle of the night-but his eyes were always closed, so there was no way I could kill him. Because it was not the old man who annoyed me, but the Eye's Eyes. And every morning, when the day began, I openly went into her room bravely and called her name with a touching tone, and asked how she had slept that night. So, you know it yourself, right? Otherwise he could be suspicious that every night, exactly at twelve o'clock, I always looked at him as he fell asleep.
On the eighth night, I was more careful than usual when I opened the door. The clock that shows the minute moves faster. Never before had I felt the limits of my strength-or my ingenuity. I can hardly hide my joy. Just imagine, I'm there, opening the door bit by bit, and he never even thought or imagined what I was doing. I chuckled a little. He may be able to hear my laughter, for suddenly he moves on his bed as if surprised by something. Now you might think I'll run out-but no. His room was as dark and as thick as the night's darkness (because his curtains were tightly closed to avoid theft) and from there I was sure that he could not see the door open, so I kept opening it slowly.
My head has come in, and when I try to light the lantern, my finger slips on the lever. Then the old man woke up shouting- "Who's there?"
I stood like a statue and silent. For an entire hour I did not move at all, and in the meantime neither did I hear him lying back. He was still sitting on his bed, trying to hear the voices around him. As I usually do, night after night, listening to the death that is always watching me from behind the wall.
A few moments later I heard a small groan, and I knew it was a frightened, human voice. It is not a whimper of pain or sadness-oh, no! -it is the sound of a weak whisper coming from a soul overwhelmed with awe. I know that sound. During the night, just in the middle of the night, when the world fell asleep, the sound was flowing inside my chest, deeper, with its terrible echoes of terror that always bothered me. I told you, I know the sound. I understood what he felt so that I felt sympathy for him, even though in my heart I laughed. I knew that he had woken up from the first noise. Fear grew deeper inside her. He tried to think it was nothing, but could not. He kept convincing himself- "Nothing, just the sound of the wind moving in the chimney-or just a rat running on the floor," or "It's just a cricket that chirps once." True, he tried to calm himself alone with these assumptions, but all in vain. Because Death had followed in the shadows before him, then enveloped his victim. And the effect of the visible shadow made him feel-though he could neither see nor hear-my presence in the room.
When I had waited so long, very patiently, without hearing him lie back, I decided to turn my leverager slightly. You can not imagine how quietly I did it-until a dim light shone on his narrowed eyes.
Her eyes are wide open! Then I get annoyed when I look at him. His gaze made his eyes tremble to the bone marrow. But I can not see any other part of his face or body other than his wicked eye, for I have directed my lantern's light right into his damned eyes.
I have told you that you mistakenly considered madness with the sharpness of my senses, did not I? Now let me explain, my ears hear a low, dull, and fast voice like a cotton-covered clock. I also know exactly what that sound is. It was the sound of her heartbeat. His voice raised my anger like a drum blow that sparked soldiers on the battlefield.
But I kept my restraint and still did not move. My breath hunted irregularly. I held tight to my lantern so as not to wobble. I tried definitely to keep the light firing into his eyes. Meanwhile, the heart beat more passionate. The faster and faster, and louder every second. He must have been enveloped by a great fear! Her voice gets louder all the time! Do you understand? I told you that I was easily anxious. And now, just in the middle of the night, in the midst of the dreadful silence of the old house, it felt very strange when a sound like this made me eager to enjoy his uncontrollable fear. However, for a few minutes I was still holding myself and not moving a bit. But his grumble got louder! I think his heart is about to explode. And now the other anxiety is grabbing me-his voice may be heard by the neighbors! The old man's time has run out! With a loud scream, I turned full of my lantern's lever and jumped into the room. He immediately shrieked in shock. In a moment I dragged him to the floor, and lifted his heavy mattress and covered his body with it. Then I smile cheerfully because so far my deeds have been completed. But for a few minutes, her heartbeat still beats with a muffled sound. But this does not irritate me. Her voice will not be heard through the wall. Her voice will disappear after a while. The old man was dead. I shifted the mattress to observe the corpse. True, he's dead stiff. I put my hand on his chest so I could feel his heart beat for a few minutes. There was no pulse. He died. Now his eyes will no longer bother me.
If you still think I'm crazy, then you will no longer think so when I explain my clever acts to hide his corpse. The night is getting late, and I do it fast but still quietly. First, separate her limbs. I cut off his head, arms, and legs.
Then I lifted the three boards that were part of the floor of the room, then hid all the pieces of his body between the pillars below. Next I closed the board again carefully, so cleverly, even that no human eye-nor his eyes-could notice any discrepancy there. Nothing to clean-no bloodstains because the bathtub had watered everything. I have acted very carefully. Ha! Ha!
By the time I was done, it was four o'clock in the morning-it was still in the midst of darkness. The sound of bell broke the silence, then followed by a knocking sound in front of the door. I walk down the stairs to open the door lightly-why should I be afraid? Enter the three men who introduced themselves, very kindly, as police officers. They say that a neighbor hears a scream, so they are assigned to find the cause.
I just smile. What should I fear? So I welcomed them. The scream, I explained, was my voice for delirious. The old man, I called, was not at home. I brought my guests around our apartment building. I let them search thoroughly. Finally I took them to the old man's room. I showed them the safe, and uninterrupted, storage box. With confidence, I brought them chairs, and asked them to rest here to unwind while I, bravely placed my chair just above the point where my corpse rested.
The officers were satisfied. My conduct convinces them. I was relaxed. We chatted, and I answered their questions cheerfully. Then the policemen were chatting between them. Soon I felt myself getting pale and hoping they were gone. My head ached, and there was a sound in my ears. But still they sit back and talk. The buzz grew clearer-his voice grew more and more and more and more and more-I was talking about anything to get rid of the feeling, but his voice was still going on and more certain-until finally, I realized the sound did not come from my ears.
Immediately my face turned pale, but I tried to speak more fluently, and with a raised voice. But the sound is even louder-and what can I do? The voice sounded low and fast-like the sound of the cotton-covered clock. My breath became congested, but the officers still had not heard it. I spoke faster and hurriedly, but the sound was still going. I stood up and talked about trivial things with high notes and rough movements. But his voice got louder. Why have not they gone yet? I walked back and forth on the floor with heavy steps, as if to be angry with their eyes, but the sound grew louder. Oh, God! What can I do? I raved. I swear! I scratched my chair on the floor, but the voice rose and grew louder. Her voice is getting louder! And they were still chatting and relaxing. Is it possible they can not hear it? Oh, my God! No, no! They heard it! They are suspicious! They know! I'm sure they're laughing at my fears! Anything better than this suffering! Anything would be better than this insult! I can not stand anymore with their hypocritical smile! I think I should yell or die! And now, listen again! Her voice is getting louder!
"Damn bastard!" I yelled. "There's nothing else to hide! I'll admit it! Unload those boards! Here, and here! I can not bear to hear the horrible sound of his heartbeat! "
****[Completed]****
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