THE TELL TALE HEART
by: EDGAR ALLAN POE
1843
paragraph 2 of 15
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees --very gradually --I made up my mind to take the life of the old man and rid myself of the eye forever.
_________
Day, night, dusk, dawn. Every day, every second, every inch, every mile. Every rock, every tree was searched, but they were looking in all the wrong places. For all they did was look up, up in the sky like I would fall out of the Heavens with grace. Though they never concidered to look down a couple miles.
I wasn't there either though, not at the moment.
I starred at him in his peaceful state, eyes closed and the rhythm of his breathing matched that to the beat of my heart.
Heartless?
Yes.
Beautiful?
Yes?
Cunning?
Yes.
Intimidating?
Yes.
Weakness?
He had none.
For being heartless was a gift but seen as a curse.
He did not mourn death, he caused death.
Though I cannot say a thing bad with being a hypocrite, I can say his death is soon upon us. It will be the relief of thousands. I accept pain, I've watched Lycans loose mates before and I cannot say I wish for it but my dead line is approaching and he is the one thing I've avoided for years, he must go down, with or with out me.
"Come with me." I whispered into his ear oh so softly, I couldn't keep the edges of my lips from curving up as I felt the small hair on his ear stand up as my breath hit them.
He was a quite stunning man, so beautiful it made you question your very sanity. How could an Adonis grace such a damned place with his presence. Beautiful was an understatement. His black hair was a new level of darkness, his eyes painted with the finest gold in all of the world, features rock hard carved from stone by the greeks. Masters of art. His voice was deep, and soothing. But in all his divinity and beauty he was the deadliest man alive. Not even a real man, just a wolf in a sheep costume feeding from fear.
For if he does not scare you. Then nothing else evil will.
He has nothing to loose.
Until now.