Welcome back to Night and Night, bedtime stories to keep you awake.

I'm Robbie at Jothery, I'll be your narrator for this series, and as a special treat for

our listeners and an honor of our relaunch, we are giving you a special double feature

this week, featuring two of my favorite classic horror stories, and I promise they will

be yours as well. Enjoy.

The Tell Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe.

True, nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am, but why will you say that I am

mad? The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Above all,

was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth.

I heard many things in hell. How then am I mad? Harken and observe how healthily,

how calmly I can tell you the whole story. It is impossible to say how first the idea

entered my brain, but once conceived, it haunted me day and night.

Object there was none. Passion, there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me.

He had never given me insult. For his gold, I had no desire. I think it was his eye.

Yes, it was this. One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture, a pale blue eye with a film over

it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold. And so by degrees, very gradually,

I made up my mind to take the life of the old man and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Now, this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing, but you should have seen me.

You should have seen how wisely I proceeded with what caution, with what foresight,

with what dissimulation I went to work. I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole

week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened

it. Oh, so gently. And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark

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