Officers, please, come in. The scream was my own, from a childish dream
We got called about a shreik that has been heard. We need to search the house.
It was just around four o'cock when I had finished everything. Then there was knocking at the door. Who could it be this late at night?
I opened the door with a light heart- for what had I now to fear? Three officers entered the old man's home, saying they had heart a shreik and suspected foul play.
He's here! Under the floorboards! I did it, I killed the old man!
After the officers had checked everywhere, I led them to the old mans room for a drink- perhaps that would tie them over. I was so confident in my triumph that I placed my seat on top of the very place in which the old man's body lie underneath.
But as time passed, I grew pale and wished them gone. I had a horrible headache and fancied a ringing in my ears. The ringing because louder and louder. But the noise wasn't from within my ears, no! It was coming from underneath the floor!
The sound became more distinct; a low, quick sound like a watch enveloped in cotton. I swore, I gasped for breath, I raved! The noise kept getting louder! I swung the chair from where I had been sitting and grated it on the floor boards. I couldn't take it anymore!
And now i'm here; in this horrible place. Do you still fancy me mad after what iv'e told you?