The Black Cat
Diamanda Galás Lyrics


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The Black Cat

For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not --and very surely do I not dream. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I would unburden my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household events. In their consequences, these events have terrified --have tortured --have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me, they have presented little but Horror --to many they will seem less terrible than baroques. Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common-place --some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects.

From my infancy I was noted for the docility and humanity of my disposition. My tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to make me the jest of my companions. I was especially fond of animals, and was indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets. With these I spent most of my time, and never was so happy as when feeding and caressing them. This peculiar of character grew with my growth, and in my manhood, I derived from it one of my principal sources of pleasure. To those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and sagacious dog, I need hardly be at the trouble of explaining the nature or the intensity of the gratification thus derivable. There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man.

I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not uncongenial with my own. Observing my partiality for domestic pets, she lost no opportunity of procuring those of the most agreeable kind. We had birds, gold fish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a cat. This latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black, and sagacious to an astonishing degree. In speaking of his intelligence, my wife, who at heart was not a little tinctured with superstition, made frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion, which regarded all black cats as witches in disguise. Not that she was ever serious upon this point--and I mention the matter at all for no better reason than that it happens, just now, to be remembered.
Pluto--this was the cat's name--was my favorite pet and playmate. I alone fed him, and he attended me wherever I went about the house. It was even with difficulty that I could prevent him from following me through the streets.

Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which my general temperament and character--through the instrumentality of the Fiend Intemperance --had (I blush to confess it) experienced a radical alteration for the worse. I grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others. I grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others. I suffered myself to use intemperate language to my wife. At length, I even offered her personal violence. My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in my disposition. I not only neglected, but ill-used them. For Pluto, however, I still retained sufficient regard to restrain me from maltreating him, as I made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the monkey, or even the dog, when by accident, or through affection, they came in my way. But my disease grew upon me--for what disease is like Alcohol!--and at length even Pluto, who was now becoming old, and consequently somewhat peevish--even Pluto began to experience the effects of my ill temper.

One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence. I seized him; when, in his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight wound upon my hand with his teeth. The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fiber of my frame. I took from my waistcoat-pocket a pen-knife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket! I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity.

When reason returned with the morning --when I had slept off the fumes of the night's debauch--I experienced a sentiment half of horror, half of remorse, for the crime of which I had been guilty; but it was, at best, a feeble and equivocal feeling, and the soul remained untouched. I again plunged into excess, and soon drowned in wine all memory of the deed.

In the meantime the cat slowly recovered. The socket of the lost eye presented, it is true, a frightful appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any pain. He went about the house as usual, but, as might be expected, fled in extreme terror at my approach. I had so much of my old heart left, as to be at first grieved by this evident dislike on the part of a creature which had once so loved me. But this feeling soon gave place to irritation. And then came, as if to my final and irrevocable overthrow, the spirit of PERVERSENESS. Of this spirit philosophy takes no account. Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart--one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the character of Man. Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a silly action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we not a perpetual inclination, in the teeth of our best judgment, to violate that which is Law, merely because we understand it to be such? This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to my final overthrow. It was this unfathomable longing of the soul to vex itself--to offer violence to its own nature--to do wrong for the wrong's sake only--that urged me to continue and finally to consummate the injury I had inflicted upon the unoffending brute. One morning, in cool blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it to the limb of a tree; --hung it with the tears streaming from my eyes, and with the bitterest remorse at my heart;--hung it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of offense; --hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing a sin--a deadly sin that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it--if such a thing were possible--even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the Most Merciful and Most Terrible God.

On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was aroused from sleep by the cry of fire. The curtains of my bed were in flames. The whole house was blazing. It was with great difficulty that my wife, a servant, and myself, made our escape from the conflagration. The destruction was complete. My entire worldly wealth was swallowed up, and I resigned myself thenceforward to despair. I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity. But I am detailing a chain of facts --and wish not to leave even a possible link imperfect. On the day succeeding the fire, I visited the ruins. The walls, with one exception, had fallen in. This exception was found in a compartment wall, not very thick, which stood about the middle of the house, and against which had rested the head of my bed. The plastering had here, in great measure, resisted the action of the fire --a fact which I attributed to its having been recently spread. About this wall a dense crowd were collected, and many persons seemed to be examining a particular portion of it with every minute and eager attention. The words "strange!" "singular!" and other similar expressions, excited my curiosity. I approached and saw, as if graven in bas relief upon the white surface, the figure of a gigantic cat. The impression was given with an accuracy truly marvelous. There was a rope about the animal's neck.

When I first beheld this apparition --for I could scarcely regard it as less --my wonder and my terror were extreme. But at length reflection came to my aid. The cat, I remembered, had been hung in a garden adjacent to the house. Upon the alarm of fire, this garden had been immediately filled by the crowd --by some one of whom the animal must have been cut from the tree and thrown, through an open window, into my chamber. This had probably been done with the view of arousing me from sleep. The falling of other walls had compressed the victim of my cruelty into the substance of the freshly-spread plaster; the lime of which, had then with the flames, and the ammonia from the carcass, accomplished the portraiture as I saw it.

Although I thus readily accounted to my reason, if not altogether to my conscience, for the startling fact 'just detailed, it did not the less fall to make a deep impression upon my fancy. For months I could not rid myself of the phantasm of the cat; and, during this period, there came back into my spirit a half-sentiment that seemed, but was not, remorse. I went so far as to regret the loss of the animal, and to look about me, among the vile haunts which I now habitually frequented, for another pet of the same species, and of somewhat similar appearance, with which to supply its place.

One night as I sat, half stupefied, in a den of more than infamy, my attention was suddenly drawn to some black object, reposing upon the head of one of the immense hogsheads of Gin, or of Rum, which constituted the chief furniture of the apartment. I had been looking steadily at the top of this hogshead for some minutes, and what now caused me surprise was the fact that I had not sooner perceived the object thereupon. I approached it, and touched it with my hand. It was a black cat --a very large one --fully as large as Pluto, and closely resembling him in every respect but one. Pluto had not a white hair upon any portion of his body; but this cat had a large, although indefinite splotch of white, covering nearly the whole region of the breast.

Upon my touching him, he immediately arose, purred loudly, rubbed against my hand, and appeared delighted with my notice. This, then, was the very creature of which I was in search. I at once offered to purchase it of the landlord; but this person made no claim to it --knew nothing of it --had never seen it before. I continued my caresses, and, when I prepared to go home, the animal evinced a disposition to accompany me. I permitted it to do so; occasionally stooping and patting it as I proceeded. When it reached the house it domesticated itself at once, and became immediately a great favorite with my wife.

For my own part, I soon found a dislike to it arising within me. This was just the reverse of what I had anticipated; but I know not how or why it was --its evident fondness for myself rather disgusted and annoyed. By slow degrees, these feelings of disgust and annoyance rose into the bitterness of hatred. I avoided the creature; a certain sense of shame, and the remembrance of my former deed of cruelty, preventing me from physically abusing it. I did not, for some weeks, strike, or otherwise violently ill use it; but gradually --very gradually --I came to look upon it with unutterable loathing, and to flee silently from its odious presence, as from the breath of a pestilence.

What added, no doubt, to my hatred of the beast, was the discovery, on the morning after I brought it home, that, like Pluto, it also had been deprived of one of its eyes. This circumstance, however, only endeared it to my wife, who, as I have already said, possessed, in a high degree, that humanity of feeling which had once been my distinguishing trait, and the source of many of my simplest and purest pleasures.

With my aversion to this cat, however, its partiality for myself seemed to increase. It followed my footsteps with a pertinacity which it would be difficult to make the reader comprehend. Whenever I sat, it would crouch beneath my chair, or spring upon my knees, covering me with its loathsome caresses. If I arose to walk it would get between my feet and thus nearly throw me down, or, fastening its long and sharp claws in my dress, clamber, in this manner, to my breast. At such times, although I longed to destroy it with a blow, I was yet withheld from so doing, partly it at by a memory of my former crime, but chiefly --let me confess it at once --by absolute dread of the beast.

This dread was not exactly a dread of physical evil-and yet I should be at a loss how otherwise to define it. I am almost ashamed to own --yes, even in this felon's cell, I am almost ashamed to own --that the terror and horror with which the animal inspired me, had been heightened by one of the merest chimeras it would be possible to conceive. My wife had called my attention, more than once, to the character of the mark of white hair, of which I have spoken, and which constituted the sole visible difference between the strange beast and the one I had destroyed. The reader will remember that this mark, although large, had been originally very indefinite; but, by slow degrees--degrees nearly imperceptible, and which for a long time my Reason struggled to reject as fanciful--it had, at length, assumed a rigorous distinctness of outline. It was now the representation of an object that I shudder to name --and for this, above all, I loathed, and dreaded, and would have rid myself of the monster had I dared --it was now, I say, the image of a hideous--of a ghastly thing --of the GALLOWS!--oh, mournful and terrible engine of Horror and of Crime--of Agony and of Death!

And now was I indeed wretched beyond the wretchedness of mere Humanity. And a brute beast --whose fellow I had contemptuously destroyed --a brute beast to work out for me --for me a man, fashioned in the image of the High God --so much of insufferable woe! Alas! neither by day nor by night knew I the blessing of Rest any more! During the former the creature left me no moment alone; and, in the latter, I started, hourly, from dreams of unutterable fear, to find the hot breath of the thing upon my face, and its vast weight --an incarnate Night-Mare that I had no power to shake off --incumbent eternally upon my heart!

Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant of the good within me succumbed. Evil thoughts became my sole intimates--the darkest and most evil of thoughts. The moodiness of my usual temper increased to hatred of all things and of all mankind; while, from the sudden, frequent, and ungovernable outbursts of a fury to which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining wife, alas! was the most usual and the most patient of sufferers.

One day she accompanied me, upon some household errand, into the cellar of the old building which our poverty compelled us to inhabit. The cat followed me down the steep stairs, and, nearly throwing me headlong, exasperated me to madness. Uplifting an axe, and forgetting, in my wrath, the childish dread which had hitherto stayed my hand, I aimed a blow at the animal which, of course, would have proved instantly fatal had it descended as I wished. But this blow was arrested by the hand of my wife. Goaded, by the interference, into a rage more than demonical, I withdrew my arm from her grasp and buried the axe in her brain. She fell dead upon the spot, without a groan.

This hideous murder accomplished, I set myself forthwith, and with entire deliberation, to the task of concealing the body. I knew that I could not remove it from the house, either by day or by night, without the risk of being observed by the neighbors. Many projects entered my mind. At one period I thought of cutting the corpse into minute fragments, and destroying them by fire. At another, I resolved to dig a grave for it in the floor of the cellar. Again, I deliberated about casting it in the well in the yard--about packing it in a box, as if merchandise, with the usual arrangements, and so getting a porter to take it from the house. Finally I hit upon what I considered a far better expedient than either of these. I determined to wall it up in the cellar --as the monks of the middle ages are recorded to have walled up their victims.

For a purpose such as this the cellar was well adapted. Its walls were loosely constructed, and had lately been plastered throughout with a rough plaster, which the dampness of the atmosphere had prevented from hardening. Moreover, in one of the walls was a projection, caused by a false chimney, or fireplace, that had been filled up, and made to resemble the rest of the cellar. I made no doubt that I could readily displace the at this point, insert the corpse, and wall the whole up as before, so that no eye could detect anything suspicious.

And in this calculation I was not deceived. By means of a crow-bar I easily dislodged the bricks, and, having carefully deposited the body against the inner wall, I propped it in that position, while, with little trouble, I re-laid the whole structure as it originally stood. Having procured mortar, sand, and hair, with every possible precaution, I prepared a plaster could not every poss be distinguished from the old, and with this I very carefully went over the new brick-work. When I had finished, I felt satisfied that all was right. The wall did not present the slightest appearance of having been disturbed. The rubbish on the floor was picked up with the minutest care. I looked around triumphantly, and said to myself --"Here at least, then, my labor has not been in vain."

My next step was to look for the beast which had been the cause of so much wretchedness; for I had, at length, firmly resolved to put it to death. Had I been able to meet with it, at the moment, there could have been no doubt of its fate; but it appeared that the crafty animal had been alarmed at the violence of my previous anger, and forbore to present itself in my present mood. It is impossible to describe, or to imagine, the deep, the blissful sense of relief which the absence of the detested creature occasioned in my bosom. It did not make its appearance during the night --and thus for one night at least, since its introduction into the house, I soundly and tranquilly slept; aye, slept even with the burden of murder upon my soul!

The second and the third day passed, and still my tormentor came not. Once again I breathed as a free-man. The monster, in terror, had fled the premises forever! I should behold it no more! My happiness was supreme! The guilt of my dark deed disturbed me but little. Some few inquiries had been made, but these had been readily answered. Even a search had been instituted --but of course nothing was to be discovered. I looked upon my future felicity as secured.

Upon the fourth day of the assassination, a party of the police came, very unexpectedly, into the house, and proceeded again to make rigorous investigation of the premises. Secure, however, in the inscrutability of my place of concealment, I felt no embarrassment whatever. The officers bade me accompany them in their search. They left no nook or corner unexplored. At length, for the third or fourth time, they descended into the cellar. I quivered not in a muscle. My heart beat calmly as that of one who slumbers in innocence. I walked the cellar from end to end. I folded my arms upon my bosom, and roamed easily to and fro. The police were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to depart. The glee at my heart was too strong to be restrained. I burned to say if but one word, by way of triumph, and to render doubly sure their assurance of my guiltlessness.

"Gentlemen," I said at last, as the party ascended the steps, "I delight to have allayed your suspicions. I wish you all health, and a little more courtesy. By the bye, gentlemen, this --this is a very well constructed house." (In the rabid desire to say something easily, I scarcely knew what I uttered at all.) --"I may say an excellently well constructed house. These walls --are you going, gentlemen? --these walls are solidly put together"; and here, through the mere frenzy of bravado, I rapped heavily, with a cane which I held in my hand, upon that very portion of the brick-work behind which stood the corpse of the wife of my bosom.





But may God shield and deliver me from the fangs of the Arch-Fiend! No sooner had the reverberation of my blows sunk into silence than I was answered by a voice from within the tomb! --by a cry, at first muffled and broken, like the sobbing of a child, and then quickly swelling into one long, loud, and continuous scream, utterly anomalous and inhuman --a howl --a wailing shriek, half of horror and half of triumph, such as might have arisen only out of hell, conjointly from the throats of the damned in their agony and of the demons that exult in the damnation. Of my own thoughts it is folly to speak. Swooning, I staggered to the opposite wall. For one instant the party upon the stairs remained motionless, through extremity of terror and of awe. In the next, a dozen stout arms were tolling at the wall. It fell bodily. The corpse, already greatly decayed and clotted with gore, stood erect before the eyes of the spectators. Upon its head, with red extended mouth and solitary eye of fire, sat the hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into murder, and whose informing voice had consigned me to the hangman. I had walled the monster up within the tomb!

Overall Meaning

Diamanda Galás's song "The Black Cat" is a musical interpretation of the classic Edgar Allan Poe short story of the same name. The lyrics retell the story of a man who becomes increasingly tormented by a black cat after he commits a series of heinous acts, including the murder of his wife. The singer initially has a deep fondness for animals, but as he spirals into alcoholism and abusive behavior, his relationship with his pets deteriorates. Specifically, his favorite pet, a black cat named Pluto, becomes the target of his violent outbursts. Eventually, in a fit of rage, the singer gouges out one of Pluto's eyes and hangs the cat. However, he is haunted by his actions and plagued by the appearance of a new black cat that bears a striking resemblance to Pluto. The cat's presence becomes increasingly unsettling, leading the singer to commit even more atrocities, including murdering his wife and walling her body up in the cellar. In the climax of the story, as the police search his home, the singer raps on the wall where he has concealed his wife's body, only to hear a haunting scream emanate from behind the bricks. The story ends with the singer's descent into madness as the truth of his crimes is revealed.


The lyrics of "The Black Cat" vividly capture the psychological unraveling of the singer as guilt, paranoia, and supernatural forces torment him. Diamanda Galás's raw and intense vocal performance heightens the emotions conveyed in the lyrics, amplifying the sense of horror and inner turmoil experienced by the singer.


Line by Line Meaning

For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief.
I am aware that what I am going to tell is an extraordinary and unbelievable story.


Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence.
I would be considered crazy if I expected anyone to believe this story, especially when my own senses are telling me that it's unbelievable.


Yet, mad am I not --and very surely do I not dream.
However, I am not insane and this is not a dream.


But to-morrow I die, and to-day I would unburden my soul.
Tomorrow I will die, and today I want to confess my sins.


My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household events.
My intention is to share a sequence of ordinary events without any embellishments.


In their consequences, these events have terrified --have tortured --have destroyed me.
The consequences of these events have horrified, tormented, and ruined me.


Yet I will not attempt to expound them.
However, I will not try to explain them.


To me, they have presented little but Horror --to many they will seem less terrible than baroques.
To me, they have been nothing but horrifying, but some may find them less terrifying than extravagant works of art.


Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common-place --some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects.
Maybe in the future, someone with a calm and logical mind will analyze my story and see that it is just a series of normal events with a logical explanation.


From my infancy I was noted for the docility and humanity of my disposition.
Since I was a child, people recognized my gentle and compassionate nature.


My tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to make me the jest of my companions.
My kindness was so noticeable that it became a source of ridicule among my friends.


I was especially fond of animals, and was indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets.
I had a deep fondness for animals, and my parents allowed me to have many different pets.


With these I spent most of my time, and never was so happy as when feeding and caressing them.
I enjoyed spending most of my time with these animals, and I never felt happier than when I was feeding and showing them affection.


This peculiar of character grew with my growth, and in my manhood, I derived from it one of my principal sources of pleasure.
This special characteristic continued to develop as I got older, and in my adulthood, it became one of my main sources of joy.


To those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and sagacious dog, I need hardly be at the trouble of explaining the nature or the intensity of the gratification thus derivable.
I don't need to explain to those who have loved a loyal and intelligent dog the satisfaction and joy that can be derived from such a relationship.


There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man.
The selfless and sacrificing love of an animal touches the heart of someone who has experienced the shallow friendships and unreliable loyalty of humans.


I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not uncongenial with my own.
I got married at a young age, and I was fortunate to have a wife whose personality was compatible with mine.


Observing my partiality for domestic pets, she lost no opportunity of procuring those of the most agreeable kind.
Knowing that I had a preference for household pets, my wife made sure to acquire ones that I would find enjoyable.


We had birds, gold fish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a cat.
We had a variety of pets such as birds, goldfish, a beautiful dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a cat.


This latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black, and sagacious to an astonishing degree.
The cat, in particular, was a very large and stunning creature, completely black in color, and surprisingly intelligent.


In speaking of his intelligence, my wife, who at heart was not a little tinctured with superstition, made frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion, which regarded all black cats as witches in disguise.
My wife, who had a slight belief in superstitions, often mentioned the old superstition about black cats being witches in disguise when praising the cat's intelligence.


Not that she was ever serious upon this point--and I mention the matter at all for no better reason than that it happens, just now, to be remembered.
Not that she believed it seriously, and I bring up this superstition now only because I happened to remember it.


Pluto--this was the cat's name--was my favorite pet and playmate.
Pluto, as the cat was named, was my favorite companion and pet.


I alone fed him, and he attended me wherever I went about the house.
I was the only one who fed him, and he followed me wherever I went in the house.


It was even with difficulty that I could prevent him from following me through the streets.
I had to make an effort to stop him from following me out onto the streets.


Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which my general temperament and character--through the instrumentality of the Fiend Intemperance --had (I blush to confess it) experienced a radical alteration for the worse.
Our bond continued for many years, during which time my overall temperament and character underwent a significant negative change due to my struggles with alcoholism.


I grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others.
I became more and more gloomy and easily angered with each passing day, paying less attention to the emotions of others.


I suffered myself to use intemperate language to my wife.
I allowed myself to speak to my wife in a disrespectful and abusive manner.


At length, I even offered her personal violence.
Eventually, I started to become physically violent towards her.


My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in my disposition.
My pets, naturally, noticed the change in my behavior towards them.


I not only neglected, but ill-used them.
I not only neglected them, but also mistreated them.


For Pluto, however, I still retained sufficient regard to restrain me from maltreating him, as I made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the monkey, or even the dog, when by accident, or through affection, they came in my way.
Despite my mistreatment of my other pets, I still had enough affection for Pluto to stop myself from mistreating him like I did the rabbits, monkey, and even the dog, when they happened to get in my way.


But my disease grew upon me--for what disease is like Alcohol!--and at length even Pluto, who was now becoming old, and consequently somewhat peevish--even Pluto began to experience the effects of my ill temper.
But my addiction to alcohol worsened over time, and even Pluto, who was growing older and hence a little more irritable, began to suffer from my anger.


One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence.
One night, while coming home heavily intoxicated from a place I frequented in town, I imagined that Pluto was avoiding me.


I seized him; when, in his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight wound upon my hand with his teeth.
I grabbed him, and in his fear, he accidentally bit me and caused a small injury on my hand.


The fury of a demon instantly possessed me.
I was immediately consumed by an uncontrollable rage.


I knew myself no longer.
I no longer recognized myself.


My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fiber of my frame.
It felt as if my original soul escaped from my body, and a malevolence more evil than that of a demon filled my being due to the influence of alcohol.


I took from my waistcoat-pocket a pen-knife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket!
I took out a pocket knife, opened it, and cruelly cut one of Pluto's eyes out as I held him tightly by the neck!


I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity.
I feel deep shame, guilt, and fear as I write about this terrible crime.


When reason returned with the morning --when I had slept off the fumes of the night's debauch--
When I finally regained my senses in the morning after sobering up from the night of heavy drinking--


I experienced a sentiment half of horror, half of remorse, for the crime of which I had been guilty; but it was, at best, a feeble and equivocal feeling, and the soul remained untouched.
I felt a mix of horror and remorse for the crime I committed, but it was a weak and uncertain feeling, and my soul remained unrepentant.


I again plunged into excess, and soon drowned in wine all memory of the deed.
I once again fell into a cycle of excessive drinking, using alcohol to forget what I had done.


In the meantime the cat slowly recovered.
Meanwhile, Pluto slowly healed.


The socket of the lost eye presented, it is true, a frightful appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any pain.
The empty socket left by the missing eye looked terrifying, but Pluto no longer showed any signs of pain.


He went about the house as usual, but, as might be expected, fled in extreme terror at my approach.
He went around the house like he used to, but he understandably became terrified and ran away whenever I approached him.


I had so much of my old heart left, as to be at first grieved by this evident dislike on the part of a creature which had once so loved me.
Initially, I felt sadness when I noticed that Pluto, who had once loved me so much, now showed such dislike towards me.


But this feeling soon gave place to irritation.
But soon, my sadness turned into annoyance.


And then came, as if to my final and irrevocable overthrow, the spirit of PERVERSENESS.
And then, the spirit of perverseness arrived, bringing about my ultimate and irreversible downfall.


Of this spirit philosophy takes no account.
Philosophy doesn't consider the concept of perverseness.


Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart--one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the character of Man.
However, I am certain that perverseness is one of the fundamental drives of the human heart, one of the inherent traits that shape a person's character.


Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a silly action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not?
Who hasn't found themselves doing something wrong or foolish, simply because they knew they shouldn't?


Have we not a perpetual inclination, in the teeth of our best judgment, to violate that which is Law, merely because we understand it to be such?
Don't we constantly have an urge to go against our better judgment and break the law, just because we know it's the law?


This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to my final overthrow.
This spirit of perverseness led to my ultimate downfall.


It was this unfathomable longing of the soul to vex itself--to offer violence to its own nature--to do wrong for the wrong's sake only--that urged me to continue and finally to consummate the injury I had inflicted upon the unoffending brute.
It was this deep desire within me to torment myself, to go against my own nature, and to do evil just for the sake of being evil that compelled me to continue and eventually complete the harm I had caused to the innocent animal.


One morning, in cool blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it to the limb of a tree; --hung it with the tears streaming from my eyes, and with the bitterest remorse at my heart;--hung it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of offense; --hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing a sin--a deadly sin that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it--if such a thing were possible--even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the Most Merciful and Most Terrible God.
One morning, when I was calm and collected, I put a noose around the cat's neck and hung it from a tree branch. I did this while tears streamed down my face and I felt the most intense remorse in my heart. I hung the cat because I knew it had loved me and it had never done anything to offend me. I committed this act knowing that it was a mortal sin, one that would put my immortal soul at risk and place it, if that were even possible, beyond the reach of God's infinite mercy.


On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was aroused from sleep by the cry of fire.
On the night following this cruel act, I was woken up from sleep by the sound of a fire.


The curtains of my bed were in flames.
The curtains of my bed were on fire.


The whole house was blazing.
The entire house was engulfed in flames.


It was with great difficulty that my wife, a servant, and myself, made our escape from the conflagration.
My wife, a servant, and I had to struggle to escape the burning house.


The destruction was complete.
The house was completely destroyed.


My entire worldly wealth was swallowed up, and I resigned myself thenceforward to despair.
Everything I owned was lost, and I surrendered to despair.


I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity.
I do not attempt to find a direct connection between the disaster and the heinous act.


But I am detailing a chain of facts --and wish not to leave even a possible link imperfect.
However, I am recounting a series of factual events and do not want to leave out any details.


On the day succeeding the fire, I visited the ruins.
The day after the fire, I went to see the remains of the house.


The walls, with one exception, had fallen in.
All the walls, except for one, had collapsed.


This exception was found in a compartment wall, not very thick, which stood about the middle of the house, and against which had rested the head of my bed.
There was one wall that remained standing, which was relatively thin, located in the middle of the house and where the head of my bed had been positioned.


The plastering had here, in great measure, resisted the action of the fire --a fact which I attributed to its having been recently spread.
The plaster on this wall had largely withstood the fire, which I believed was due to its being recently applied.


About this wall a dense crowd were collected, and many persons seemed to be examining a particular portion of it with every minute and eager attention.
A large crowd had gathered around this wall, and many people were closely examining a specific area with great curiosity.


The words 'strange!' 'singular!' and other similar expressions, excited my curiosity.
The words 'strange!' 'singular!' and other similar comments piqued my curiosity.


I approached and saw, as if graven in bas relief upon the white surface, the figure of a gigantic cat.
I went closer and saw, as if sculpted in low relief on the white surface, the image of a huge cat.


The impression was given with an accuracy truly marvelous.
The depiction was incredibly accurate.


There was a rope about the animal's neck.
There was a rope around the neck of the cat in the image.


When I first beheld this apparition --for I could scarcely regard it as less --my wonder and my terror were extreme.
When I first saw this image --though I could hardly consider it anything less than a supernatural vision --I was filled with immense wonder and fear.


But at length reflection came to my aid.
But eventually, rational thinking helped me.


The cat, I remembered, had been hung in a garden adjacent to the house.
I remembered that the cat had been hanged in a garden next to the house.


Upon the alarm of fire, this garden had been immediately filled by the crowd --by some one of whom the animal must have been cut from the tree and thrown, through an open window, into my chamber.
When the fire broke out, the garden had quickly become crowded, and somebody from the crowd must have cut the cat from the tree and thrown it through an open window into my room.


This had probably been done with the view of arousing me from sleep.
This was likely done to wake me up.


The falling of other walls had compressed the victim of my cruelty into the substance of the freshly-spread plaster; the lime of which, had then with the flames, and the ammonia from the carcass, accomplished the portraiture as I saw it.
As the remaining walls collapsed, the cat's body became embedded in the newly-applied plaster, and the lime from the plaster, combined with the fire and the ammonia from the decomposing body, created the image that I saw.


Although I thus readily accounted to my reason, if not altogether to my conscience, for the startling fact 'just detailed, it did not the less fall to make a deep impression upon my fancy.
Although I, with my rational mind, was able to explain this surprising event, it still deeply affected my imagination.


For months I could not rid myself of the phantasm of the cat; and, during this period, there came back into my spirit a half-sentiment that seemed, but was not, remorse.
For months, I couldn't shake off the image of the cat from my mind, and during this time, a feeling that resembled but wasn't truly remorse began to take over my being.


I went so far as to regret the loss of the animal, and to look about me, among the vile haunts which I now habitually frequented, for another pet of the same species, and of somewhat similar appearance, with which to supply its place.
I went as far as to feel remorse for losing the cat and to search in the sordid places I often visited for another pet of the same species and similar appearance to replace it.


One night as I sat, half stupefied, in a den of more than infamy, my attention was suddenly drawn to some black object, reposing upon the head of one of the immense hogsheads of Gin, or of Rum, which constituted the chief furniture of the apartment.
One night, as I sat in a half-drunk stupor in a disreputable place, my attention was suddenly drawn to a black object resting on top of one of the large barrels of Gin or Rum that filled the room.


I had been looking steadily at the top of this hogshead for some minutes, and what now caused me surprise was the fact that I had not sooner perceived the object thereupon.
I had been staring at the top of this barrel for a few minutes, and what surprised me was that I hadn't noticed the object on it earlier.


I approached it, and touched it with my hand.
I went closer and touched it with my hand.


It was a black cat --a very large one --fully as large as Pluto, and closely resembling him in every respect but one.
It was a black cat --a very large one --just as big as Pluto, and it closely resembled him in every aspect except for one.


Pluto had not a white hair upon any portion of his body; but this cat had a large, although indefinite splotch of white, covering nearly the whole region of the breast.
Pluto didn't have a single white hair on his body, but this cat had a large, though not clearly defined, patch of white fur that covered almost its entire chest.


Upon my touching him, he immediately arose, purred loudly, rubbed against my hand, and appeared delighted with my notice.
As soon as I touched him, he got up, purred loudly, rubbed against my hand, and seemed happy to receive my attention.


This, then, was the very creature of which I was in search.
This was exactly the creature I had been looking for.


I at once offered to purchase it of the landlord; but this person made no claim to it --knew nothing of it --had never seen it before.
I immediately offered to buy it from the landlord, but the landlord denied any knowledge of the cat; he claimed he had never seen it before.


I continued my caresses, and, when I prepared to go home, the animal evinced a disposition to accompany me.
I kept petting the cat, and when I was getting ready to leave, it showed a desire to come with me.


I permitted it to do so; occasionally stooping and patting it as I proceeded.
I allowed it to come along with me, occasionally bending down to pet it as I walked.


When it reached the house, it domesticated itself at once, and became immediately a great favorite with my wife.
Once it arrived at the house, it settled in right away and quickly became a favorite of my wife's.


For my own part, I soon found a dislike to it arising within me.
As for myself, I quickly developed a dislike towards it.


This was just the reverse of what I had anticipated; but I know not how or why it was --its evident fondness for myself rather disgusted and annoyed.
This was the complete opposite of what I expected; but I don't know how or why it happened --the cat's apparent affection for me actually disgusted and irritated me.


By slow degrees, these feelings of disgust and annoyance rose into the bitterness of hatred.
Over time, these feelings of disgust and irritation turned into intense hatred.


I avoided the creature; a certain sense of shame, and the remembrance of my former deed of cruelty, preventing me from physically abusing it.
I actively avoided the cat, feeling ashamed and remembering the cruel act I had committed earlier, which prevented me from physically hurting it.


I did not, for some weeks, strike, or otherwise violently ill use it; but gradually --very gradually --I came to look upon it with unutterable loathing, and to flee silently from its odious presence, as from the breath of a pestilence.
For several weeks, I didn't hit or mistreat it in any violent way, but slowly --very slowly --I began to feel an indescribable disgust towards it, and I started to silently avoid its repulsive presence as if it were a deadly disease.


What added, no doubt, to my hatred of the beast, was the discovery, on the morning after I brought it home, that, like Pluto, it also had been deprived of one of its eyes.
What further fueled my intense dislike towards the cat was the realization, the morning after I brought it home, that it, like Pluto, was missing one of its eyes.


This circumstance, however, only endeared it to my wife, who, as I have already said, possessed, in a high degree, that humanity of feeling which had once been my distinguishing trait, and the source of many of my simplest and purest pleasures.
But this fact only made my wife love the cat even more, a wife who, as I mentioned before, had a strong sense of compassion which once used to be my defining trait and a source of my most basic and purest joys.


With my aversion to this cat, however, its partiality for myself seemed to increase.
However, as much as I disliked the cat, its fondness for me only seemed to grow stronger.


It followed my footsteps with a pertinacity which it would be difficult to make the reader comprehend.
It followed me everywhere with a determination that is hard to describe.


Whenever I sat, it would crouch beneath my chair, or spring upon my knees, covering me with its loathsome caresses.
Whenever I sat down, it would hide under my chair or jump onto my lap, showering me with its disgusting displays of affection.


If I arose to walk it would get between my feet and thus nearly throw me down, or, fastening its long and sharp claws in my dress, clamber, in this manner, to my breast.
If I got up to walk, it would get in between my feet and almost make me trip, or it would use its long and sharp claws to climb up my dress and cling to my chest.


At such times, although I longed to destroy it with a blow, I was yet withheld from so doing, partly at by a memory of my former crime, but chiefly --let me confess it at once --by absolute dread of the beast.
At those moments, even though I wanted to strike it and kill it in a single blow, I was held back partly due to the guilt of my previous crime, but mainly --let me admit it right away --out of pure fear of the creature.


This dread was not exactly a dread of physical evil-and yet I should be at a loss how otherwise to define it.
My fear was not exactly a fear of physical harm, although I cannot think of any other way to describe it.


I am almost ashamed to own --yes, even in this felon's cell, I am almost ashamed to own --that the terror and horror with which the animal inspired me, had been heightened by one of the merest chimeras it would be possible to conceive.
I am almost ashamed to admit --yes, even as I am locked up in this prison cell, I am almost ashamed to admit --that the fear and horror that the animal evoked in me had been intensified by the most absurd and fanciful delusions one could imagine.


My wife had called my attention, more than once, to the character of the mark of white hair, of which I have spoken, and which constituted the sole visible difference between the strange beast and the one I had destroyed.
My wife had drawn my attention, on multiple occasions, to the distinctive mark of white fur, which I had mentioned before, that was the only visible difference between the strange cat and the one I had harmed.


The reader will remember that this mark, although large, had been originally very indefinite; but, by slow degrees--degrees nearly imperceptible, and which for a long time my Reason struggled to reject as fanciful--it had, at length, assumed a rigorous distinctness of outline.
The reader will recall that this mark, though initially quite vague, had gradually --almost unnoticeably --become more clearly defined, despite my rational mind resisting it as nothing more than an illusion.


It was now the representation of an object that I shudder to name --and for this, above all, I loathed, and dreaded, and would have rid myself of the monster had I dared --it was now, I say, the image of a hideous--of a ghastly thing --of the GALLOWS!--oh, mournful and terrible engine of Horror and of Crime--of Agony and of Death!
It had become the image of an object that I feel tremors just thinking about --and because of this, above anything else, I despised, feared, and wished to rid myself of the monster --it was now, I say, the image of a horrifying --a ghastly thing --the GALLOWS! Oh, the mournful and horrifying instrument of Horror, Crime, Agony, and Death!


And now was I indeed wretched beyond the wretchedness of mere Humanity.
And now, I was absolutely miserable, more so than any ordinary human could be.


And a brute beast --whose fellow I had contemptuously destroyed --a brute beast to work out for me --for me a man, fashioned in the image of the High God --so much of insufferable woe!
And a dumb animal --whose companion I had disdainfully killed --a dumb animal was bringing upon me --upon me, a man created in the image of God --such immense suffering!


Alas! neither by day nor by night knew I the blessing of Rest any more!
Alas! Day and night, I could no longer experience the relief of rest!


During the former the creature left me no moment alone; and, in the latter, I started, hourly, from dreams of unutterable fear, to find the hot breath of the thing upon my face, and its vast weight --an incarnate Night-Mare that I had no power to shake off --incumbent eternally upon my heart!
During the day, the creature didn't leave me alone for a single moment, and at night, I would wake up constantly from dreams filled with unspeakable dread, only to find the terrifying presence of the cat's hot breath on my face and its enormous weight --an inescapable Night-Mare --pressing down on my heart!


Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant of the good within me succumbed.
Under the weight of torment like this, even the little bit of goodness left within me gave in.


Evil thoughts became my sole intimates--the darkest and most evil of thoughts.
Evil thoughts became my only companions, the darkest and most wicked thoughts.


The moodiness of my usual temper increased to hatred of all things and of all mankind; while, from the sudden, frequent, and ungovernable outbursts of a fury to which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining wife, alas! was the most usual and the most patient of sufferers.
My bad temper turned into hatred towards everything and everyone; and because of my frequent and uncontrollable outbursts of rage, to which I now recklessly surrendered, my wife, unfortunately, became the most common and the most patient target of my wrath.


One day she accompanied me, upon some household errand, into the cellar of the old building which our poverty compelled us to inhabit.
One day, she came with me to the cellar of the old building where we were forced to live due to our poverty.


The cat followed me down the steep stairs, and, nearly throwing me headlong, exasperated me to madness.
The cat followed me down the steep stairs and nearly caused me to fall, infuriating me.


Uplifting an axe, and forgetting, in my wrath, the childish dread which had hitherto stayed my hand, I aimed a blow at the animal which, of course, would have proved instantly fatal had it descended as I wished.
In a fit of rage, I raised an axe, forgetting the childish fear that had prevented me from harming the cat before, and I struck at the animal, intending to deliver a blow that would have instantly killed it.


But this blow was arrested by the hand of my wife.
However, my wife intervened and blocked the blow with her hand.


Goaded, by the interference, into a rage more than demonical, I withdrew my arm from her grasp and buried the axe in her brain.
Driven to an even more demonic rage by her interference, I wrenched my arm free from her grasp and struck her in the head with the axe, killing her instantly.


She fell dead upon the spot, without a groan.
She fell to the ground lifeless, without uttering a sound.


This hideous murder accomplished, I set myself forthwith, and with entire deliberation, to the task of concealing the body.
After committing this heinous murder, I immediately and deliberately set about the task of hiding the body.


I knew that I could not remove it from the house, either by day or by night, without the risk of being observed by the neighbors.
I knew that I couldn't take the body out of the house, whether during the day or at night, without the fear of being seen by the neighbors.


Many projects entered my mind.
Various ideas occurred to me.


At one period I thought of cutting the corpse into minute fragments, and destroying them by fire.
At one point, I considered cutting the body into small pieces and burning them.


At another, I resolved to dig a grave for it in the floor of the cellar.
At another point, I decided to dig a grave for it in the cellar floor.


Again, I deliberated about casting it in the well in the yard--about packing it in a box, as if merchandise, with the usual arrangements, and so getting a porter to take it from the house.
Once again, I considered throwing it into the well in the yard or packing it in a box as if it were merchandise, with the intention of having a porter take it away from the house.


Finally, I hit upon what I considered a far better expedient than either of these.
Finally, I came up with what I believed to be a much better plan than any of these.


I determined to wall it up in the cellar --as the monks of the middle ages are recorded to have walled up their victims.
I decided to seal it in the cellar wall, just as there are stories of medieval monks having walled up their victims.


For a purpose such as this the cellar was well adapted.
The cellar was well-suited for this purpose.


Its walls were loosely constructed, and had lately been plastered throughout with a rough plaster, which the dampness of the atmosphere had prevented from hardening.
The cellar walls were not very solidly built, and they had recently been covered in rough plaster that hadn't fully hardened due to the damp conditions.


Moreover, in one of the walls was a projection, caused by a false chimney, or fireplace, that had been filled up, and made to resemble the rest of the cellar.
Furthermore, one of the walls had a protrusion caused by a fake chimney or fireplace that had been sealed and made to look like the rest of the cellar.


I made no doubt that I could readily displace the at this point, insert the corpse, and wall the whole up as before, so that no eye could detect anything suspicious.
I was confident that I could easily remove the bricks at that spot, place the body inside, and reseal the wall as it was before, making it impossible for anyone to notice anything suspicious.


And in this calculation I was not deceived.
And I was not mistaken in this calculation.


By means of a crow-bar I easily dislodged the bricks, and, having carefully deposited the body against the inner wall, I propped it in that position, while, with little trouble, I re-laid the whole structure as it originally stood.
Using a crowbar, I effortlessly removed the bricks, and after carefully positioning the body against the inner wall, I supported it in that position. Then, with minimal effort, I rebuilt the structure to its original state.


Having procured mortar, sand, and hair, with every possible precaution, I prepared a plaster could not every poss be distinguished from the old, and with this I very carefully went over the new brick-work.
After obtaining mortar, sand, and hair and taking all the necessary precautions, I prepared a plaster that was indistinguishable from the old one. Then, I meticulously covered the new brickwork with the plaster.


When I had finished, I felt satisfied that all was right.
When I had finished, I felt confident that everything was in order.


The wall did not present the slightest appearance of having been disturbed.
The wall showed no signs of having been tampered with.


The rubbish on the floor was picked up with the minutest care.
The debris on the floor was meticulously cleaned up.


I looked around triumphantly, and said to myself --'Here at least, then, my labor has not been in vain.'
I looked around with a sense of triumph and said to myself, 'At least in this aspect, my efforts were not in vain.'


My next step was to look for the beast which had been the cause of so much wretchedness; for I had, at length, firmly resolved to put it to death.
My next task was to find the creature that had caused so much misery, as I had finally made up my mind to kill it.


Had I been able to meet with it, at the moment, there could have been no doubt of its fate; but it appeared that the crafty animal had been alarmed at the violence of my previous anger, and forbore to present itself in my present mood.
If I had come across it at that moment, there would have been no doubt about its fate. However, it seemed that the cunning creature had sensed the intensity of my previous rage and chose not to show itself while I was in my current state of mind.


It is impossible to describe, or to imagine, the deep, the blissful sense of relief which the absence of the detested creature occasioned in my bosom.
It is impossible to put into words or even imagine the profound and blissful feeling of relief that overcame me when the detested creature was nowhere to be found.


It did not make its appearance during the night --and thus for one night at least, since its introduction into the house, I soundly and tranquilly slept; aye, slept even with the burden of murder upon my soul!
It didn't show up during the night, and so for at least one night since it had come into the house, I was able to sleep soundly and peacefully, yes, even with the guilt of murder weighing on my conscience!


The second and the third day passed, and still my tormentor came not.
The second and third days went by, and still my tormentor did not appear.


Once again I breathed as a free-man.
Once again, I felt a sense of freedom.


The monster, in terror, had fled the premises forever!
The monstrous creature, filled with terror, had escaped the premises forever!


I should behold it no more!
I would never see it again!


My happiness was supreme!
My happiness was absolute!


The guilt of my dark deed disturbed me but little.
The guilt of my wicked act bothered me very little.


Some few inquiries had been made, but these had been readily answered.
There had been a few questions asked, but I had answered them easily.


Even a search had been instituted --but of course nothing was to be discovered.
Even a search had been conducted, but, of course, nothing was found.


I looked upon my future felicity as secured.
I felt that my future happiness was guaranteed.


Upon the fourth day of the assassination, a party of the police came, very unexpectedly, into the house, and proceeded again to make rigorous investigation of the premises.
On the fourth day after the murder, a group of police officers unexpectedly entered the house and began thoroughly investigating the premises.


Secure, however, in the inscrutability of my place of concealment, I felt no embarrassment whatever.
Feeling confident in the secrecy of my hidden place, I felt no embarrassment whatsoever.


The officers bade me accompany them in their search.
The officers asked me to accompany them in their search.


They left no nook or corner unexplored.
They thoroughly searched every nook and cranny.


At length, for the third or fourth time, they descended into the cellar.
Finally, for the third or fourth time, they went down to the cellar.


I quivered not in a muscle.
I didn't shake a single muscle.


My heart beat calmly as that of one who slumbers in innocence.
My heart was calm, like that of a person who is innocent and peacefully sleeping.


I walked the cellar from end to end.
I walked around the cellar from one end to the other.


I folded my arms upon my bosom, and roamed easily to and fro.
I crossed my arms over my chest and walked about leisurely.


The police were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to depart.
The police were completely satisfied and ready to leave.


The glee at my heart was too strong to be restrained.
The joy in my heart was too powerful to be contained.


"Gentlemen," I said at last, as the party ascended the steps, "I delight to have allayed your suspicions.
"Gentlemen," I finally said, as the group went up the stairs, "I'm pleased to have relieved your suspicions.


I wish you all health, and a little more courtesy.
I wish you all good health and a bit more politeness.


By the bye, gentlemen, this --this is a very well constructed house.
By the way, gentlemen, this --this is a very well-built house.


(In the rabid desire to say something easily, I scarcely knew what I uttered at all.)
(In my frantic desire to say something, I hardly even knew what words were coming out of my mouth.)


--"I may say an excellently well constructed house.
--"I can confidently say it's an excellently well-built house.


These walls --are you going, gentlemen?
These walls --are you leaving, gentlemen?


--these walls are solidly put together";
--these walls are meticulously constructed";


and here, through the mere frenzy of bravado, I rapped heavily, with a cane which I held in my hand, upon that very portion of the brick-work behind which stood the corpse of the wife of my bosom.
And with a rush of bravado, I struck the area of the brickwork behind which the body of my beloved wife lay, using the cane that I held in my hand.


But may God shield and deliver me from the fangs of the Arch-Fiend!
But may God protect and save me from the claws of the Devil!


No sooner had the reverberation of my blows sunk into silence than I was answered by a voice from within the tomb!
Just as the echo of my strikes had faded away, I was met with a voice from within the wall!


--by a cry, at first muffled and broken, like the sobbing of a child, and then quickly swelling into one long, loud, and continuous scream, utterly anomalous and inhuman --a howl --a wailing shriek, half of horror and half of triumph, such as might have arisen only out of hell, conjointly from the throats of the damned in their agony and of the demons that exult in the damnation.
--it was the sound of a cry, initially muffled and fragmented, like a child's sobbing, but then rapidly growing into a single, long, loud, and unbroken scream, completely abnormal and inhuman --a howl --a piercing shriek, a mixture of horror and triumph, the sort of sound that could only have come from hell, a combination of the tormented screams of the damned and the grotesque triumph of the demons reveling in their suffering.


Of my own thoughts it is folly to speak.
It would be foolish for me to talk about my own thoughts.


Swooning, I staggered to the opposite wall.
Feeling faint, I stumbled towards the opposite wall.


For one instant the party upon the stairs remained motionless, through extremity of terror and of awe.
For a moment, the group on the stairs stood frozen in fear and awe.


In the next, a dozen stout arms were tolling at the wall.
Then, a dozen strong hands were tearing down the wall.


It fell bodily.
The wall collapsed completely.


The corpse, already greatly decayed and clotted with gore, stood erect before the eyes of the spectators.
The decaying and blood-soaked body stood upright before the eyes of the onlookers.


Upon its head, with red extended mouth and solitary eye of fire, sat the hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into murder, and whose informing voice had consigned me to the hangman.
On its head, there sat the monstrous creature with a mouth open wide and a single fiery eye, the creature whose cunning had tempted me into murder and whose voice had condemned me to be hanged.


I had walled the monster up within the tomb!
I had walled up the monster within the wall!




Contributed by Luke O. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
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Comments from YouTube:

Alex Shor

several more years later this is still so freakin chilling!

Alex Shor

several years later this is still so freakin chilling

brigitte acosta russek

I sincerely love her telling the story

Suzy Good

I've always been a Poe fan and picked up the CD sometime in the early 2000's. The black cat is my absolute favorite!

Lexi Wolfe

Can't believe I found this! I listened to this at university and it genuinely pitched me into my goth phase 😂🎓💗 So well performed!

Alex Shor

wow this is so freakin chilling

wellofcire

and it's not repetetive

Armand Dominguez

impessive as always and so gooood

Ronaldo Thomé Júnior

Diamanda really knows what she does... Scary and... Delightful;)

Wind Hammer

The heart of murder.

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