The story is about the horror experience of a girl who kills an old man but then confesses also out of horror.
I know that I have been ill for quite a long time but why is it that you address me as mad or that I have lost control on my mind. Indeed, the illness only made my mind, my feelings, my senses stronger, more powerful and much more skeptical to emotions. My sense of hearing has become more profound. I can hear sounds that I have never heard before. I hear sounds from heaven, from hell!
And now I will tell you how it happened. You will then get to know that how healthy my mind, body and soul are.
It is impossible to say how the idea first entered my head. There was no reason for what I did. I did not hate the old man, I loved him. He had never hurt me. I never wanted his money because I myself was self-replenished. I think it was his eye. His eyes were that like of a vulture’s. That bird that watches any human or creature with utmost concentration and wait while an animal dies, and then fall upon the dead body and pull it to pieces to eat. When the old man looked at me with his vulture-eyes, a cold feeling went up and down my spines; even my blood became cold. Then is the time when I decided to kill that old man and close that eye forever so that I don’t feel that dreadfulness ever again!
Now also do you think that I am mad? A madman cannot plot such a thing. But you should have seen me. During that whole week, I was so friendly with the old man. As loving, care and generous that I could have been.
Every night about 12 o’clock I would open his door slowly. And when the door was opened wide enough, I would put my hand and body in and then my head. In my hand, I would hold a light covered with a cloth so that no light showed. And I stood there quietly. Then, carefully, I lifted the cloth, just a little, so that a single, thin, small light fell across that eye. For 7 nights, I did this. Always the eye was closed, so it was impossible for me to do the work. It was not the old wan whom I wanted to kill, but those yes.
And every morning I went to his room, and with a warm, friendly voice I asked him how he slept the last night. He could not even guess a slightest of it that I would him looking at him every night at 12 o’clock.
At eighth night, I was much more careful to open the door. The hands of clock moved much more quickly. Never before had I felt so strongly my own power, I was not sure about the success.
The old man was lying, not dreaming that I was at his door. Suddenly he moved to his bed, but I remained calm and composed. The darkness in his room was thick and black. I knew he could not see the opening of the door. I continued to push the door, swiftly and softly. I put in the hand with the covered light. Suddenly the old man stood straight from his bed and asked,” who’s there?”
I stood quite, for about an hour; without any motion. I could not even hear him lying again to his bed. He just sat there, listening. Then I heard a low sound of crying from the old man. Now I understood that he was filled with fear due to my presence. He neither could not see me, nor hear me but only feel my presence. He knew that Death was there.
Slowly I lifted the cloth from the light so that a small, thin light escaped from the cloth to fall upon the vulture eyes. It was open- wide, wide open and my anger soared as it looked at me.
I could not see the old man’s face. Only that eye, that hard blue eye; staring at me with fear but still dreadful.
My ears had become skeptical even to the slightest of the noises. I could clearly hear the heart beat of the old man’s heart like that of a slow, soft sound of a wall clock. But the sound grew louder, clearly indicating that his fear was quite high. And as the sound grew louder and louder, my fear and anger became more and more painful. I could not resist it. My heart too was beating too fast and loud with the fear that I could hear the sound of my heart beat too. It was strenuous. I knew the time had come. It was time for action. I rushed to the room crying, “Die! Die!” The old man gave a loud cry of fear as I fell upon him and held the bedcovers tightly over his head. His heart was still beating. But I was smiling because I knew that the success was near. The heart continued to beat but then stopped suddenly. He was dead. I took away the bedcovers and put my ear close to his heart to feel and hear if he was still alive. There was no sound, he was dead. His eye wouldn’t trouble me anymore.
You should have seen how careful I was to put the body where no one could ever find it. I cut off the head first, then legs and arms. I was careful enough to not let even a single drop of blood fall on the floor.
As I finished the work, I heard someone at the door. It was now 4 o’clock, but still dark. I had no fear, so I went down to open the door. Three men were there at the door, three officers of the police. One of the neighbors had heard the old man’s cry and had informed the police about it. They had come to the house to interrogate and search.
I asked the policemen to come in. I said that the cry was of mine and that the old man was away went to meet a friend. I took them through the whole house to search. They found nothing. But I could still hear that heartbeat. Don’t know why. I feared and confessed my crime and didn’t understand that why the sound was still there.