Storyboard Text
- It is impossible to say how the idea first entered my head. His eye was like the eye of a vulture. When the old man looked at me with his vulture eye a cold feeling went up and down my back; even my blood became cold. so, I finally decided i had to kill the old man and close that eve forever.
- I am not mad. The old man, no, his disgusting vulture eyes must be killed.
- Every night about twelve o'clock I slowly opened his door. And when the door was opened wide enough I put my hand in, and then my head. I held a light covered over 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.
- It's been seven nights, why won't he wake up, It's impossible for me to kill him.
- The eighth night I was more than usually careful as I openedthe door. 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, slowly, softly. I put in my head. I put in my hand, with the covered light. Suddenly theold man sat straight up in bed.
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