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My work on point of view for neighbor in Edgar Allen Poe's Tell-Tail Heart ^^





It was a cold November night, frost blanketed the grass signaling the ending of fall. The street lamps were lit and a soft call of the wolf howling to the moon could be heard in the distance of the small town. All was silent as I read a small book in my night gown while laying comfortably in my bed. The dim glow of the lamp beside me cast a small beam of light out the window and onto the wall of Old Man Tom's house. He was such a generous man and had showed it by letting young Eric live with him. A faint blush flashed across my cheeks as I thought of him. He was strong, lean, and tall. He had the voice of an angel when he did speak. Lately, however, he seemed distant and quiet. I would here him mumble to himself about Tom's eye. He would say it was evil and had to go.
"What did he mean by 'go'?" I asked myself, as I set my book down. I shrugged a bit and went to blow out the small flame in my lamp. After I did, I went to fall asleep when suddenly I felt something was wrong. Now mostly during the night I would hear Tom snore for our houses were very close to each other, but tonight there was an erie silence. I got up and went to my window and opened it. I shivered as a cool breeze blew past me and I saw, through Tom's bedroom window, a small light.
Where is that light coming from? I mentally asked myself and started to fallow the ray of light to its source. I was surprised to see Eric in the doorway. What is he doing? He had a face I had never seen on him before. It was calm, determined, anxious, and murderous. The face of a madman. I waited in anticipation, hoping he wasn't going to do anything rash. I watched as he slowly entered the room, him looking at the terified old man. I wanted to shout, to warn Tom but I was to afraid myself. He moved so slowly and causiously that it felt like a year had passed by.
Suddenly Eric sprung on the old man like a jungle cat. I held a hand over my mouth so not to scream as the two wrestled on the floor. Eric held Tom's mattress over his mouth and sat there for a long while. Tears escaped my eyes as he got up and touched the body. I knew then that the old man was dead. I ducked down as the young murderer started to turn my way. I stayed quiet and listened, hoping with all my being that he hadn't seen me. At first it was quiet again and I moved up slowly to peek over the corner of my window. To my horror I saw a gruesome sight.
There Eric was cutting up Tom's corpse into pieces. I fought the urge to throw up and I tore my gaze from the scene. I have to do something, but what?! I thought while crawling on my hands and knees. I then remembered that the police station wasn't that far off. "Please don't let him see me." I prayed as I headed to the stairs. When I knew I was out of sight I ran to the phone and called 911.
I waited impatiently for them to arrive. When they did I felt slightly happy for what had seemed for years. I watched from my living room window as they entered the house. I strained my hearing while leaning out a bit so to hear. After a while fear struck me again. What if they don't think he did it? What if they can't find the body? I listened more and heard their muffled small talk. I started to have a sinking feeling in my chest, like when you dive into the deep end of a pool and run out of air before you get to the surface, the feeling like your drowning.
Then, just as I was giving up hope, I heard Eric start yelling, "He's under the floor boards! Stop that terrible beat of the old man's heart!" I ducked my head back into the house and watched as they carried him away. All through the night the police went in and out of Tom's house, taking out the body and making a crime scene. The next day the morning paper talked about the murder. As I drank my coffee and read I knew I made the right choice but I still somehow felt scared for my life, especially after I read at the bottom of the page that Eric had mysteriously disappeared.