Anthology-Final

The Black Cat
LXXIV
But may God shield and
deliver me from the fangs of
the Arch-Fiend! No sooner
had the reverberation of my
blows sunk into silence, than
I was answered by a voice
from within the tomb!
—by a cry,
I don’t want to go outside. I won’t, even if Jennie asks me to.
For outside you have to creep on the ground, and everything is green
instead of yellow.
at first muffled and broken,
But here I can creep smoothly on the floor, and my shoulder just
fits in that long smooch around the wall, so I cannot lose my way.
like the sobbing of a child,
and then quickly swelling into one long,
loud,
Why, there’s John at the door!
and continuous scream,
utterly anomalous and inhuman
—a howl—
It is no use, young man, you can’t open it!
Now he’s crying for an axe.
How he does call and pound!
a wailing shriek,
It would be a shame to break down that beautiful door!
half of horror and half of triumph,
such as might have arisen only out of hell,
LXXIII
The Yellow Wallpaper