The Tell Tale Heart

It was late one evening, the moon was full and the stars were twinkling like little diamonds in the sky. I knew I should have been asleep in my chamber, but I had jerked awake in the middle of the night, remembering that I had not shined the master's shoes. Of course, it seems like a silly task to get out of bed for at such an hour, but my master was a kind old man, and I didn't want to disappoint him with dull shoes.

Slowly and quietly I crept up the stairs, wincing at every creek, pulled open the door and slipped into his room. I tiptoed across the floor, being as quiet as possible, for my master was not a hard sleeper and I didn't want him to wake. The room was dark-the windows barred for fear of burglars-so I stood to let my eyes adjust to the pitch black darkness. Turning the knob on the old man's closet, I checked to make sure I hadn't woken him, then reached down to find his favorite pair of shoes. I jumped as the bedroom door opened a crack. My heart sped up and I threw myself into the closet, shutting the door - leaving just a crevice open to see what was going on. Was it a burglar? If it was, I knew I should have gotten up on my shaky legs and scared him away, but what good would a servant girl in a nightgown have done? I stayed still, staring at the door, but when nothing happened, I began to second guess myself. Had I not latched the door closed behind me? Maybe it had slid open by itself. I pressed my eye against the crack, but as I stared, I became more and more certain that there was someone . . . something . . . waiting five feet away from me, slowly entering the room. I must have sat in that blasted closet for hours, my knees aching and the sour air making me choke. Many times, I urged myself to get up and go back to my chamber, but there was a fear-a horrible fright that gripped my heart. So I stayed, cowering in the closet like a mouse, wishing for the awful night to end.

Suddenly, my master moved, and I knew that I was not alone in thinking that there was another person in the room. A clank echoed through the room, a sound so slight that it would not have been heard, much less thought of, in the daylight, but was magnified by the darkness and seemed to fill every corner with cold dread. My hand flew to my mouth, stifling the scream that had risen to my throat, while I watched the old man jerk up and cry out into the darkness, "Who's there?". My eyes ached from the constant strain of staring of staring into the darkness, but both my master and I sat still, trembling, dreading, waiting for something to happen.
A lifetime could have passed, but finally I saw a string of light, shoot out from some seemingly unoccupied area of the room and land on my master's dead eye. A loud yell shattered the silence as a dark figure flew toward the bed. My master shrieked and as much as I wanted to shut my eyes and look away, I stayed glued to the horrid scene that had began to unfold before my very eyes. The figure dragged my master to the floor and pulled the large oak bed over him, crushing the poor man underneath. A solitary tear dribbled down my face and my heart began beat so wildly that it was a constant hum in my chest. The murderer pushed the large piece of furniture away and examined the body that was left, crushed, underneath the bed. The room swam in front of my eyes and I fought the overpowering urge to swoon as he pulled out a knife and dismembered the body, removing the head, arms, and legs. As he pulled up three of the floorboards and buried the evil deed underneath, I could only wonder how long it would take for the room to be filled with the rancid smell of decaying flesh. The madman turned, and my fear changed to pure hatred as I recognized him as the other resident of the household - the man who had always been so kind, so caring to the old master. What did he have to gain? The house? Money? Gold? To my surprise, he did not touch a thing in the room, but smiled, as if he'd just killed a small gnat that had come to annoy him.

A knock on the front door echoed through the house, and to my relief, the man straightened his jacket and left the room. I jumped up, my legs like a puddle of chocolate pudding underneath me, and ran from the room, being very careful to avoid the floor under which the master was buried. I shoved all my belongings into a carpet bag, and as much as I wanted to shout to the early morning visitors the horrible deed that the madman had done, I ran. Away from the house, away from the life I had grown accustomed to, away from my job. I boarded the next train that arrived at the train station and left the awful night behind me, scarred permanently by the murder I had witnessed from among shirts, pants, and a pair of very dull shoes.