Authors Note: This story is written in a rather macabre fashion.I did so in an attempt to bring up emotion. It is purely an artistic touch to add character to the story. For those who areeasily upset; I advise you toleave now.

"True, I was nervous very, very dreadfully nervous. I had been and am; but why do you say that I am mad? The disease has sharpened my senses, not destroyed, and not dulled them. Above all, my sense of hearing has grown more powerful. I hear all things in the heavens and in the earth. I hear many things in hell. How, then, am I mad?"1 Kit snarled and fidgeted as she looked up at the young man staring at her.

"Widow Eaton, I need to talk to you considering your husband's disappearance and the matter of Good Wife Cruff's death... What happened?" The man stared at her with narrowed eyes.

"All happened as I said it did... The witch took him away with her..." Her bloodshot eyes twitched in annoyance. "When will I be free of this accursed cell? I can't stand it any longer... the bricks taunt me with their thoughts, and the birds chirp gaily at me in mock kindness! I hate this place!"

"Dear woman, if you are referring to the ship, its ashes are still floating in the harbor..." He shook his head and sighed.

"No. You don't understand... It was Cruff!" Kit spat on the ground with a snarl. Her greasy, flea-ridden hair hung in front of her face as she continued her rant. "The daemon's here at night frighten me! They reach through the bars of this place and grab at me..."

"What happened, Kit? Damn you! What happened to you?" He shook his head and rushed from the small room, slamming the cell door behind him. Kit wailed in the small hut, ranting at the large rats that she believed were crawling on her.

"Any luck, William?" Matthew Wood walked toward the young man who stared at him sadly. He flinched slightly as he heard a pitifully loud scream from the hut.

"Not a thing, Matthew. She's gone stark mad I tell you." He sighed and turned his head to the cell again, where Kit's loud screams continued as they had been for countless nights. "Matthew stop worrying about her. You're as pale as a ghost. I have already sent for a man who might be able to help her. He goes by the name of David de la Poer 2." He looked at the man intently, shaking his head as Kit continued her blaring wails again after a brief rest.

"I pray to God that this Poer will come soon. I don't know how much longer Katherine can last." He turned an odd glance towards the hut. The two began to walk up the dirt road towards the village.

Notes:

1This is a direct quote from Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell Tale Heart"

2de la poer is the Celtic Nordic family line that Poe descended from. It is quite possible that a member of that blood line was in America at this time.