Mad? I am not mad! Look at how calmly I can tell you the story. The old man’s eye was like a vulture’s. It was pale blue with a thick film over it. I made up my mind to kill the old man even though he did nothing wrong.
On the eighth night, I slowly opened the door and my finger slipped on the lantern.
The old man cried out, “Who’s there?
For a w e e k I w a s v e r y c a r e full . Every night at midnight, I would slowly open the old man’s bedroom door to peek in upon the eye, but it was always closed.
I didn’t move for an hour. I knew the old man was wondering what had made the sound. I slowly opened the door again.
The eye was open and staring straight at me. It chilled my bones. I could hear the old man’s heart thumping.
The time had come. I threw the bed over hi m and he was stone dead. His eye would not bother me anymore.
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