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I was sick,

sick unto death with that long agony.

And when they at length unbound me, and I was permitted to sit, I felt that my senses were

leaving me.

The sentence, the dread sentence of death, was the last of distinct accentuation which reached my ears.

After that, the sound of the inquisitorial voices seemed merged in one dreamy indeterminate hum.

It conveyed to my soul the idea of revolution, perhaps from its association in fancy with the burr of a mill wheel?

This only for a brief period for presently I heard no more.

Yet for a while I saw, but with how terrible an exaggeration, I saw the lips of the black-robed

judges. They appeared to me white, whiter than the sheet upon which I traced these words, and thin, even to grotesqueness, thin with the intensity of their expression of firmness, of immovable resolution, of stern contempt of human

torture.

I saw that the decrees of what to me was fate were still issuing from those lips.

I saw them writhe with a deadly locution.

I saw them fashion the syllables of my name and I shuddered because no sound succeeded.

I saw too for a few moments of delirious horror, the soft and nearly imperceptible waving of the

sable draperies which enrapped the walls of the apartment.

Enjoy those sable draperies while you can. the apartment up for some much less glamorous living. Because nothing lasts forever in the cold povember rain.

Ha ha ha ha ha rain. And it is Poveember. Welcome!

Welcome everyone. We are jumping right into it with the pit and the pendulum. This is a classic Edgar Allan Poe's story that we've yet to cover on the show and when I say the show I mean the

H.P. Lovecraft literary podcast. Hello I am Chad Fife and I am Chris Lackey. We are on your

internet dial at H.Podcraft.com and

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