I smiled, --for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen
welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I
mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over
the house. I bade them search --search well. I led them, at length, to
his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In
the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and
desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in
the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the
very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.
The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was
singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they
chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting
pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in
my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more
distinct: --It continued and became more distinct: I talked more
freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained
definiteness --until, at length, I found that the noise was not within
my ears.
No doubt I now grew very pale; --but I talked more fluently, and
with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased --and what could I
do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch
makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet the
officers heard it not. I talked more quickly --more vehemently; but
the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a
high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily
increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro
with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the
men --but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I
foamed --I raved --I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been
sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all
and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder! And still
the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard
not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they
knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and
this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was
more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical
smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again!
--hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed!
--tear up the planks! here, here! --It is the beating of his hideous
heart!"
This video is just a cartoon adaptation of Edgar Allen Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart". It stays true to the story for the most part although some sections are altered. A great visual though if you didn't already get one from reading the story.
Reflection
...This story fits into the "villain" side of my tapestry concept because it involves a murder. But this story is unique in that it is in the point of view of the murderer. He tries to justify his actions and keeps stressing that he is not insane. "It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I
could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! Would a madman have been so wise as
this?" He does in fact give a reason why he decided to kill the old man: "It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once
conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was
none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me
insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this!
He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it
fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees --very gradually --I made up
my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever."The quote from my previous post (Quotation #1) suggests that something happens to a person in their past that changes their conscience.Edgar Allen Poe doesn't go into the past of the murderer, so we don't get to see if anything had happened to him that would change his morals into thinking this is a valid reason for murder. The man goes into detail with his planning of the death of the man and describes his actions with an admiring sense. He is proud of his work. I chose the ending to use as an excerpt because its the part of the story when his conscience actually takes over. Its almost as if his conscience was dormant while he killed the man, then when the police came to start questioning him, it finally woke up and forced him to feel guilty. He believes he is hearing the heart beat of the old man, but I think he is actually just hearing his own heart beat and going insane from the sound of it. Then finally, his guilt consumes him. ""Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed!
--tear up the planks! here, here! --It is the beating of his hideous
heart!""...
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