The Telltale Heart
From Old Man's Point of View
By: Leah Willing
Friends can change, so can family. They would commit actions you never thought possible, not
from their kind souls. Or were they really kind? They could be dissembling or greedy, or just plain
mad!
A friend of mine was pregnant, and her so-called-husband had fled the city when he heard
the news. A magician he was! When he heard the news he disappeared! My poor companion was
forced to become a mother without a husband yet that never quite happened... She died while giving
birth. I took in the young infant and treated him as my own, as I never married and had no true
children of my own. I kept his original name, the name his mother bestowed upon him, Bobbet. I gave
him a vast education, a high-quality life, all that I could offer. When he was of age he left and
started a life of his own. Every month or two though, he came to visit me for as long as was allowed.
The last time he came to my dwelling, he started to act different. At first he seemed
aggravated at me when I was to look at him. He would make a low growling noise barely audible. Then
overnight his personality altered yet again. He started to smile at me all the time. It was not just
the smiling that bothered me; it was the way he smiled, like a smirk. As if he was saying, "I know
something you don't. I know something!" I was wondering what was wrong with my son, my beloved
son. Maybe he had established that I was not his blood father. But that smirk, it just did not match.
Something was going on, and I did not like the feeling.
A few days after the smirking began; I started to feel as if I was being watched once in my
bed chamber. Around midnight or so, I felt a light, a thin stream of light upon my large eye, my
vulture eye. I began to feel uneasy around my son as his behavior grew worse and so had my suspicion
about my midnight stalker. I started to become paranoid, always looking over my shoulder, not
knowing what to expect. On the seventh night I decided to stay awake to discover whether or not
my suspicions were true. I was beginning just to drift off into a soft slumber when I heard the door
creak open. I sat up: searching around the room with my good eye. The room was the darkest black so
I had a little possibility of discovering anything. I was still positive that I had heard the door open so
I stayed awake, with both of my eyes open, rarely closing my large eye. I next heard the clank of the
shutter from a lamp hitting its side and I saw a thin stream of light escape and land on my vulture eye.
I saw my saw, Bobbet, go crazy with fury, jumping upon my bed. One scream escaped my lips before
he smothered my voice with a pillow that was lying upon my bed.
My soul left my limp body, yet never quite left the room. He severed my arms, legs, and torso
and put my mangled body under the floor which he then covered with the original floor boards. A deep
ring came from the front of residence which my son went to answer. How could he do this to me? His
own father? After ALL that I had done for him! That ingrate! Two police entered into the room, the
same room as my dead body. Bobbet gathered chairs and set his directly above corpse, as to show his
braveness. I willed the officers to uncover the truth, yet nothing happened, and the chatter that had
begun continued. I had to do something to stop the injustice! His behavior must be punished! My
soul, my ghost, sneaked into his ears, making a light beating noise, slowly raising the volume until it
must have been unbearable for him, and then louder. Bobbet started to panic; he talked louder and
louder, made vivid hand motions, and banged his chair on the floor repeatedly.
The officers believed he was mad, pure crazy, and their suspicion was growing as each chair
bang went by. Finally the noise had gone too far, and my son, my murder broke, confessing the truth,
blurting it all out. At that moment my soul left his body, slowly drifting off into oblivious, for the
justice had, after all, been served.
POEM!!
Once upon a perfect time
When the land and all was mine
I had a plan, a wish, a dream
That all would be peaceful, or so would seem
The land so smooth and flowers blooming
The sun was high but a shadow was looming
A gentle wind blew through the land
The land was mine, and it was grand
A girl with a bow and dress
Whose fears should not be addressed
They were nonexistent, zilch, none
There was only shouting and lots of fun
But all should change without a warning
Something that would bring much mourning
The war had started, the towers had fell
There is nothing much left to tell
Time will heal all open wounds
Over the time of risen moons
Days will get normal, days will get better
But only if we all stick together
From Old Man's Point of View
By: Leah Willing
Friends can change, so can family. They would commit actions you never thought possible, not
from their kind souls. Or were they really kind? They could be dissembling or greedy, or just plain
mad!
A friend of mine was pregnant, and her so-called-husband had fled the city when he heard
the news. A magician he was! When he heard the news he disappeared! My poor companion was
forced to become a mother without a husband yet that never quite happened... She died while giving
birth. I took in the young infant and treated him as my own, as I never married and had no true
children of my own. I kept his original name, the name his mother bestowed upon him, Bobbet. I gave
him a vast education, a high-quality life, all that I could offer. When he was of age he left and
started a life of his own. Every month or two though, he came to visit me for as long as was allowed.
The last time he came to my dwelling, he started to act different. At first he seemed
aggravated at me when I was to look at him. He would make a low growling noise barely audible. Then
overnight his personality altered yet again. He started to smile at me all the time. It was not just
the smiling that bothered me; it was the way he smiled, like a smirk. As if he was saying, "I know
something you don't. I know something!" I was wondering what was wrong with my son, my beloved
son. Maybe he had established that I was not his blood father. But that smirk, it just did not match.
Something was going on, and I did not like the feeling.
A few days after the smirking began; I started to feel as if I was being watched once in my
bed chamber. Around midnight or so, I felt a light, a thin stream of light upon my large eye, my
vulture eye. I began to feel uneasy around my son as his behavior grew worse and so had my suspicion
about my midnight stalker. I started to become paranoid, always looking over my shoulder, not
knowing what to expect. On the seventh night I decided to stay awake to discover whether or not
my suspicions were true. I was beginning just to drift off into a soft slumber when I heard the door
creak open. I sat up: searching around the room with my good eye. The room was the darkest black so
I had a little possibility of discovering anything. I was still positive that I had heard the door open so
I stayed awake, with both of my eyes open, rarely closing my large eye. I next heard the clank of the
shutter from a lamp hitting its side and I saw a thin stream of light escape and land on my vulture eye.
I saw my saw, Bobbet, go crazy with fury, jumping upon my bed. One scream escaped my lips before
he smothered my voice with a pillow that was lying upon my bed.
My soul left my limp body, yet never quite left the room. He severed my arms, legs, and torso
and put my mangled body under the floor which he then covered with the original floor boards. A deep
ring came from the front of residence which my son went to answer. How could he do this to me? His
own father? After ALL that I had done for him! That ingrate! Two police entered into the room, the
same room as my dead body. Bobbet gathered chairs and set his directly above corpse, as to show his
braveness. I willed the officers to uncover the truth, yet nothing happened, and the chatter that had
begun continued. I had to do something to stop the injustice! His behavior must be punished! My
soul, my ghost, sneaked into his ears, making a light beating noise, slowly raising the volume until it
must have been unbearable for him, and then louder. Bobbet started to panic; he talked louder and
louder, made vivid hand motions, and banged his chair on the floor repeatedly.
The officers believed he was mad, pure crazy, and their suspicion was growing as each chair
bang went by. Finally the noise had gone too far, and my son, my murder broke, confessing the truth,
blurting it all out. At that moment my soul left his body, slowly drifting off into oblivious, for the
justice had, after all, been served.
POEM!!
Once upon a perfect time
When the land and all was mine
I had a plan, a wish, a dream
That all would be peaceful, or so would seem
The land so smooth and flowers blooming
The sun was high but a shadow was looming
A gentle wind blew through the land
The land was mine, and it was grand
A girl with a bow and dress
Whose fears should not be addressed
They were nonexistent, zilch, none
There was only shouting and lots of fun
But all should change without a warning
Something that would bring much mourning
The war had started, the towers had fell
There is nothing much left to tell
Time will heal all open wounds
Over the time of risen moons
Days will get normal, days will get better
But only if we all stick together