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Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849

"The most interesting stories of all nations: American"

I knew, I felt, that some person or thing was in
the room, although nothing unusual was to be seen by the feeble
light. Yet it was a sense of danger that had aroused me from
slumber. I experienced, while yet asleep, the chill and shock of
sudden alarm, and I knew, even in the act of throwing off sleep
like a mantle, WHY I awoke, and that some intruder was present.
Yet, though I listened intently, no sound was audible, except the
faint murmur of the fire--the dropping of a cinder from the bars--
the loud, irregular beatings of my own heart. Notwithstanding this
silence, by some intuition I knew that I had not been deceived by a
dream, and felt certain that I was not alone. I waited. My heart
beat on; quicker, more sudden grew its pulsations, as a bird in a
cage might flutter in presence of the hawk. And then I heard a
sound, faint, but quite distinct, the clank of iron, the rattling
of a chain! I ventured to lift my head from the pillow. Dim and
uncertain as the light was, I saw the curtains of my bed shake, and
caught a glimpse of something beyond, a darker spot in the
darkness.


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