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| Soon, I heard a weak exhale, and I knew that it was the exhale of terror. It wasn't an exhale of pain or sadness, oh no! It was the quiet, held-in sound that comes from the bottom of the soul when filled with fear. I knew that sound well. Many nights, at exactly midnight, when everyone was asleep, it grew in my chest, increasing the fears that bothered me with its frightening echo. I tell you, I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I secretly thought that it was funny. I knew that he had been awake since the first slight noise when he turned in bed. His fears had been growing since then. He had tried to convince himself that they were baseless, but he couldn't. He had been telling himself, "It's just the wind in the chimney, it's just a mouse crossing the floor," or "It's just a cricket that made a single chirp." Yes, he has been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions, but he had no success. It didn't work because Death, as he approached him, made his dark shadow in front of him and wrapped him in it. And that unseen shadow made him sense, although he neither saw nor heard, my presence in the room.
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| colspan="2" | Nerxali, mi le ore daif exnafasu, ji mi le jixi ki to le sen exnafasu fe teror. To le no sen exnafasu fe guton or hazuniya, o no! To le sen lil,
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| When I had waited a long time very patiently without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little—a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it—you cannot imagine how stealthily—until at length a single dim ray like the thread of the spider shot out from the crevice and fell upon the vulture eye.
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