The Pit or the Pendulum Jacqueline Jules
Strapped on the floor, Poe’s terrified narrator eyed the glint of the scythe swinging from the ceiling. Dropping lower and lower it hissed above his heart, until the desperate man turned clever, enticing rats to chew his ropes. Freed from one threat, he now faced the walls red hot, pressing in. While the pit waited in the center of the room, deep and filled with water. There’s always something to make the Tell-Tale Heart beat too fast. Dismember the pieces of your tortured thoughts and leave them hidden under the floorboards with the pale vulture eye.
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