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THEY THREW NO SHADOW ON THE FLOOR
This answer from the killer was more unexpected than the previous one. The devilish voice was just now very close. Surely, he had already entered the tunnel. I decided to flee away, I ran trying to light the trail with my mobile phone, but very soon, I realized that I was in the trap of a maze. The passages there were crossed and tangled in all directions, but the killer and his raven knew the way perfectly, for even though I went throughout the most twisting tunnels, I always listened, very close, the raven says:
"Kill him, Kill him. Kill him”.
I thought maybe, instead of fleeing, I should talk to that crazy hellish and persuade him not to kill me.
"You are wrong, the House of Usher never existed; Edgar Allan Poe fantasized it, just as he also imagined the sickly Roderick Usher".
“You will find that it is you who are mistaken about a great many things of this old tale. The House of Usher was real and it is still real as long as I live. Poe visited my great-grandfather Roderick. Poe, that drunken, never told the true story. Was Edgar who killed my great-grandfather Roderick and his sister Madeline, but the drunken writer never discovered that they had had a child, a little baby, Robert Usher, my grandfather, whom the incestuous brothers had hidden in a deep cellar”.
It was impossible; I could never make that crazy man have a little sanity. I decided to continue my escape in silence. With very soft steps, I went to an opening in the cave. Still, my mobile phone could light the place. Now I was in a kind of natural chamber, which perhaps some underground water current dug for millennia. The air was cold, but I liked it. Up there, close the rocky dome, small blue lights danced. I stared at those flickering. Now these seemed to come down to me. I heard songs; these were like poems spoken by women's voices. I listened carefully. They sang in the German language. Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind? Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind; er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm, er fasst ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm... I knew then that this was one of my favorite poems. "The king of elves", I whispered. "Der Erlkoning", which was written by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
That song had hypnotic powers. I felt that my thoughts were as smoke. I was not alone. The cave was the same, unchanged in any way since I came into it. However, I heard the breath of invisible creatures. I could see along the floor, in the brilliant blue light, my own footsteps marked where I had disturbed the long accumulation of dust. In the round big stone opposite me were three young women, ladies by their dress and manner. I thought at the time that I must be dreaming when I saw them, they threw no shadow on the floor.
They came close to me, and looked at me for some time, and then whispered together. Two were dark, and had high aquiline noses, and great dark, piercing eyes, that seemed to be almost red when contrasted with the blue light of the stony hall. The other was fair, as fair as can be, with great masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to know her face, and to know it in connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at the moment how or where. They stared at me and whispered again. I tried to decipher the language in which they spoke, but I only heard crows squawking then. I passed slowly my eyes across the faces, but they did not have any longer human traits. From their heads came to a long and sharp bird's beak.
