لخّصلي

I am not mad.I loved the old man, yet his eye terrified me. It was pale and vulture-like, and whenever it fell upon me, fear gripped me completely.The heart still thumped in my ears as I confessed, and all my cleverness was destroyed by my own remorse.For nights, I watched him sleep, moving silently through his room with a dark lantern.It grew louder, echoing in my mind.I shouted, revealing the secret.I was nervous, yes, but my senses are sharper than most men's.Fury took hold of me. I struck, and the old man fell beneath the heavy bed.

I am not mad. I was nervous, yes, but my senses are sharper than most men’s. I could hear every sound in the house, and my mind was alert.

I loved the old man, yet his eye terrified me. It was pale and vulture-like, and whenever it fell upon me, fear gripped me completely. I could not bear it, so I decided to rid myself of that eye forever.

For nights, I watched him sleep, moving silently through his room with a dark lantern. I waited until the eye was open before I acted. At last, one night, it opened. Fury took hold of me. I struck, and the old man fell beneath the heavy bed. I buried him beneath the floorboards. No one would ever know.

When the police came, I spoke calmly, showing no fear. But then I heard it — a low, steady thump. It grew louder, echoing in my mind. It was the beating of the old man’s heart! I could not endure it. My guilt, my own conscience, would not let me hide the crime.

“Here! Here it is!” I shouted, revealing the secret. The heart still thumped in my ears as I confessed, and all my cleverness was destroyed by my own remorse.