The Death of the Tell Tale Heart
by Lisa M. Norris
Anxious - nervous, rather - was I as the judge entered the room. I sat silently with a smirk gradually growing upon my face. The court rose to greet the man that I would have to address as "Your Honor." The people of the court were seated and the trial was introduced to the jury.
I was being charged with the crime of murdering my master. This I do not deny doing. My reason for it was to rid my life of his horrid eye. I recall that it would glare at me from across the room as if to mock me. Always, I felt its gaze upon me. I am still content with my reasoning that I am not mad, nor was I when I committed this hatefully relieving crime.
The attorney called me to the stand. I gathered my strength and stood slowly, hearing the calm beat of my heart. I felt the cold steel of the cuffs around my wrists and the chain tight about my ankles. Forever seemed to pass before I reached the bench to take the oath on the Bible that they impatiently placed before me. I placed my cold, clammy, white hand upon that book of holiness. I swore not to tell a lie. Having told so many before, I hoped that I would find the courage to speak truth.
Finally, I was seated before the entire courtroom, where all of their accusing eyes could look upon me plainly. I sat on the hard wooden chair and felt a chill tremor travel through my wretched body. The first question was asked. Did I believe that I was innocent or guilty? I responded by confessing that I had, without a doubt, killed the old fool in his sleep. I was then asked to give the details of what took place, how I went about my deed. I told them every part in the exact order that they occurred.
I was called to sit once again, this time, next to my attorney. I knew not the ways of the law, so I didn't find it suspicious that the lawyers talked with the jury in private. A few moments later, the jury and lawyers paraded into the room once again. I knew by the looks in their eyes that my fate had been determined. I had been proven guilty. I knew this, and yet I had a smile on my face, but the tears of hatred were welling in my eyes.
They thought I was mad! Every last one of them, though I have stated time and again that I am NOT crazy! As the jury read the verdict, I heard a soft, dull thudding noise beneath the courtroom's dusty floor boards. It was slow and weak at first and then gradually, it gained strength and volume. I covered my ears, collapsing to the floor in agony, my heart seething with hatred. I lay there, screaming and asking for forgiveness! The only response was the beating of that old fool's heart, hidden beneath the floor boards, haunting me, mocking me, incessantly.
by Lisa M. Norris
Anxious - nervous, rather - was I as the judge entered the room. I sat silently with a smirk gradually growing upon my face. The court rose to greet the man that I would have to address as "Your Honor." The people of the court were seated and the trial was introduced to the jury.
I was being charged with the crime of murdering my master. This I do not deny doing. My reason for it was to rid my life of his horrid eye. I recall that it would glare at me from across the room as if to mock me. Always, I felt its gaze upon me. I am still content with my reasoning that I am not mad, nor was I when I committed this hatefully relieving crime.
The attorney called me to the stand. I gathered my strength and stood slowly, hearing the calm beat of my heart. I felt the cold steel of the cuffs around my wrists and the chain tight about my ankles. Forever seemed to pass before I reached the bench to take the oath on the Bible that they impatiently placed before me. I placed my cold, clammy, white hand upon that book of holiness. I swore not to tell a lie. Having told so many before, I hoped that I would find the courage to speak truth.
Finally, I was seated before the entire courtroom, where all of their accusing eyes could look upon me plainly. I sat on the hard wooden chair and felt a chill tremor travel through my wretched body. The first question was asked. Did I believe that I was innocent or guilty? I responded by confessing that I had, without a doubt, killed the old fool in his sleep. I was then asked to give the details of what took place, how I went about my deed. I told them every part in the exact order that they occurred.
I was called to sit once again, this time, next to my attorney. I knew not the ways of the law, so I didn't find it suspicious that the lawyers talked with the jury in private. A few moments later, the jury and lawyers paraded into the room once again. I knew by the looks in their eyes that my fate had been determined. I had been proven guilty. I knew this, and yet I had a smile on my face, but the tears of hatred were welling in my eyes.
They thought I was mad! Every last one of them, though I have stated time and again that I am NOT crazy! As the jury read the verdict, I heard a soft, dull thudding noise beneath the courtroom's dusty floor boards. It was slow and weak at first and then gradually, it gained strength and volume. I covered my ears, collapsing to the floor in agony, my heart seething with hatred. I lay there, screaming and asking for forgiveness! The only response was the beating of that old fool's heart, hidden beneath the floor boards, haunting me, mocking me, incessantly.