In my youth, I don’t remember my absence of sanity. I believed myself to be of sound mind, not as mad as I admit now. The harebrained and repulsive things I have done haunt me even into the afterlife. Yes, I am dead, but how is unclear. I can only reason how my life came to end this way. It must have been what I have done.
Most of my past is blurry in my mind, but there are few things I can call up. While others had no worries during the happiest time of carnival season, I pondered over the murder of one of my best friends. I killed a kind old man who had never wronged me in cold blood over my own superstitions. I had loved animals as a child, but I grew such a strong hatred to them from an uncontrollable drinking problem. Even through my wife’s death, I blamed it on angels instead of the horrible truth that it was myself. Thoughts and smells of my beloved wife tortured me through the night, as I imagined ravens upon my chamber doors. I died a mad murderer, and now, in death, I must reflect on the series of events that led me here.
I believe it was in my young adulthood, the pinnacle of my life, that my insanity began to surface. I had assumed that the clever plan I formed to take Fortunato’s life, however, was not out of madness. He had provoked me, insulted me; yes, …show more content…
I was delighted when his daughter hired me and I left to move into the old man’s house in the countryside. He payed me well for my service, and spoke without an insult to me or anyone else. Regardless, there was something about him that made me fear him. I think it was his eye! My employer had a glass eye that was pale blue with a film over it. Even now, I don’t rightly know why it made me wary, but every time we spoke, I could feel the man’s evil eye watching me, like a vulture. It was a mere superstition, one only conceived by my madness. Many weeks passed by from my hire, and each day I became more and more fearful of the