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The Tell-Tale Heart - On the other side

Summary:

The Tell-Tale Heart, but from old man's perspective.
Third person was used to separate this piece even more from the original (also it sounded better).

Work Text:

  He was sure there was nothing to worry about. Truly, what he first thought were the sounds of some sort of wraith wishing to torment him, those few bizarre noises, barely loud enough to be heard, surely they must have been merely products of his old age.
  The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like nonsense. Ghosts belonged in stories, and, even in the case that these so-called noises were not solely an aging mind's delusions, it was more than likely they simply came from the house itself. Ancient buildings were this way; they creaked and cracked as if they were sentient creatures.

  Frankly, had he not been graced every day by his quotidian friendly visitor — who had been coming for a while now — he would have certainly already gone completely senile. But thanks to this cordial and charming presence, he had managed to keep the slowly deteriorating pieces of his intellect together. His guest even regularly asked him about the quality of his sleep; the answer he gave always excluded the latest strange noises, though, for he did not wish to alarm his friend. It was nothing worth being anxious about.

  Then, why was he unable to fall asleep? Why was such a trifling matter keeping him awake in the pitch-black darkness? Why were his ears so alert, hunting for the slightest sound?
  Was he truly hearing the faint noises once more, or merely imagining them?

  There! Just there, just now— a chuckle! It was beyond a doubt! He had heard something! But surely he was going insane. How — and why — would anyone other than him be in the room? Undeniably, the lack of sleep had messed with his senses.
  But there it was, yet again! Not the same— but he could not have dreamed it twice!

  “Who's there?!” he cried out; but the stillness of the night was the only response.

  Someone, something was here. He felt it. He felt it, and from the very bottom of his soul his whole body was quivering with fright. Not a single thing but the break of dawn could get him to rest now. Nothing but the light of day could ease his heart's intense throbbing. Even the minutes passing by only increased the feeling of deep terror creeping over him.

  He did not know how long he had been sitting up in his bed, wide awake, doing nothing but listening to his mad heartbeat.
  Then — all at once, so fast that he could not comprehend what was happening — a shout, a crash, a grasp on him; abruptly the air, his breath were gone, and in one final wheeze, he was too.

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