The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 2Poe, Edgar Allan
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The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 2
Poe, Edgar Allan
American fiction -- 19th century; Fantasy fiction; Horror tales, American; Short stories
There was no longer the faintest sign of vitality in M. Valdemar;
and concluding him to be dead, we were consigning him to the
charge of the nurses, when a strong vibratory motion was
observable in the tongue. This continued for perhaps a minute. At
the expiration of this period, there issued from the distended
and motionless jaws a voice—such as it would be madness in me to
attempt describing. There are, indeed, two or three epithets
which might be considered as applicable to it in part; I might
say, for example, that the sound was harsh, and broken and
hollow; but the hideous whole is indescribable, for the simple
reason that no similar sounds have ever jarred upon the ear of
humanity. There were two particulars, nevertheless, which I
thought then, and still think, might fairly be stated as
characteristic of the intonation—as well adapted to convey some
idea of its unearthly peculiarity. In the first place, the voice
seemed to reach our ears—at least mine—from a vast distance, or
from some deep cavern within the earth. In the second place, it
impressed me (I fear, indeed, that it will be impossible to make
myself comprehended) as gelatinous or glutinous matters impress
the sense of touch.
I have spoken both of “sound” and of “voice.” I mean to say that
the sound was one of distinct—of even wonderfully, thrillingly
distinct—syllabification. M. Valdemar spoke—obviously in reply to
the question I had propounded to him a few minutes before. I had
asked him, it will be remembered, if he still slept. He now said:
“Yes;—no;—I have been sleeping—and now—now—I am dead.”
No person present even affected to deny, or attempted to repress,
the unutterable, shuddering horror which these few words, thus
uttered, were so well calculated to convey. Mr. L—l (the student)
swooned. The nurses immediately left the chamber, and could not
be induced to return. My own impressions I would not pretend to
render intelligible to the reader. For nearly an hour, we busied
ourselves, silently—without the utterance of a word—in endeavors
to revive Mr. L—l. When he came to himself, we addressed
ourselves again to an investigation of M. Valdemar’s condition.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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