A Tell Tale Heart retelling

A Tell Tale Heart retelling

A Story by david jones

A retelling of Edgar Allan Poe's macabre story "A Tell-Tale Heart."

I hear the sound of a fist, or something, vehemently pounding against the door. I get up, walk to it, open it, but nobody is there - just the sound of my fear, my heart beating steadily, though the pace was quickening. I had just done something atrocious, something that you wouldn't even consider thinking about....unless of course it were a movie. But this is no movie. I gaze down at my hands, at the repugnant crimson that is staining them - and, of course, I glance to the floor, at the knife, as it was jutting from the floor boards, blade first. I stride across the room, my boot prints squishing along the floor that is discolored in blood. I pick up the knife, go into the kitchen, and put it under the water, the blood from the blade obliterating into the sink. 
I sit down on a chair at the kitchen table, biting into an apple. I did it, I can't believe I actually did it, I think as I sit there, the juices from the fruit dribbling down my chin. The way their shrieks filled the night, the screams they let out, the gurgles....I actually enjoyed it. That is true. Since I was a kid I have studied serial killers, the way they act, their motives; I've always been interested in killing. Though it makes me paranoid to think about. At any second somebody could arrive at this house, in this room, and see me over a couple of dead bodies. And how would that look?
I feel my hear hammering against my ribs....I am surprised they haven't broken yet. The thing that I didn't anticipate before I came here to kill these people - my boss and his wife - was the clean up. I go back into the room and see the pools of blood spread all across the floor, a pattern of crimson splattered across the wall. And in the middle of the room, a woman with a huge gash in her throat, congealed blood dried onto the front of her neck. And a man lying beside her, a mouth that was opened in his stomach, revealing some of his guts. That part made me gag. 
"I can't believe I did this," I say out loud. It might have more distinction that way. Hearing it from my own lips. I take the arms of the woman, drag her across the room. There is still some fresh blood smearing across the floor. S**t, more of a mess for me to clean. 
I glance out the window.
It is a pretty, cool night. The moon is suspended against the night sky like a pendulum, seemingly swinging back and forth watching me. As if it knows. 
I am surprised nobody came by. The woman was a real screamer. The way she hit the wall, the way she screamed, the way she begged, put her hands in front of her face, her look....it makes me feel happy to just think about it, in truth. I open a closet door and toss the body inside. 
Now the man. He had been a fighter. I had had to pin him to the ground, before I slit open his stomach and his throat. I loved the feel of the knife cutting through flesh like warm butter, the way the hot blood flowed down my hands as it cascaded from his perspiring and fearful body. I go to him, flip him on his back, and nearly gag at the gaping, dark and bloody hole in his stomach. I drag the body to the base of the attic, open the door, and drag him up the stairs - he is very heavy, but eventually, amid loss of strength, nervousness, and heat, I finally get him up there. I take him, slide him under the bed.
I wipe my hands clean.
Now, the thing to do - clean up. I walk back down the stairs. And that is when I hear another steady knocking, only this time it isn't just my heart rattling against my ribs like tiny explosions - this time the door is actually being knocked by somebody. My heart drops. I don't know what to do. There is still a lot of blood on the floor, and new blood from the two bodies was smearing my hands. 
I wash my hands.
"I'm waiting," a male voice says. He pounds thunderously on the door. 
"I can't let you...."
"Police, open up, we've had a report of disturbances in this house," the male voice says a lot louder. It is just crazy - the police officer is standing right out there. If he comes in, sees the blood, I am going to jail. 
"I'll be right there." I take a heavy bath mat and place it over the blood. It is something that wouldn't soak up the blood, it would just cover it. I open the door and smile. "Evening officer."
"May I come in?"
"I don't think that would be a good idea," I say. "My wife is upstairs, sick, and she hates when strangers come into the house and hear her vomiting."
"I heard there was a disturbance at this house, screaming of some kind. Would you like to describe that?"
"I was just watching sports on the television," I say. "I get carried away when my favorite team is winning." That's when I hear it....a heart beat, coming from upstairs. I was starting to look worried.
I had killed him.
I had.
He can't be dead.
(He just can't).
"Anything wrong sir?" the police officer asks.
"Nothing, just a little worried about my wife."
"She's really sick isn't she?"
"Yes." I nod. There it is again.
(Thump thump thump.)
"Can I just come in, just to look around...."
"No, NO!" I shout, nearly slamming the door. The police officer pushed the door back open. I go backward, going crazy, the heart still beating, and the police officer entered...."Please, please. Can't you hear it?!" 
"The heart beat the...."
"What are you talking about?" Spiraling into madness. A thumping on the wall, another heart beat. Coming from the closet. Oh no -! How can this be happening? I had killed those people, they were dead, breathless, but yet -
(You are going crazy, CRAZY!!) 
I look up. A red stain has spread along the wall. A drop of blood is expelled. It patters to the floor, as light as a raindrop. The cop was suspicious now.
"What is wrong?" he asks.
"I am going crazy I am going crazy they are gone they are...." 
(Dead, they are dead.)
(But I heard them, I heard the damn heartbeats...everything). The police officer sees the blood on the floor and puts two and two together.
The heartbeats. Getting louder, louder, louder.
Paranoia. Craziness. Descending into the world of madness a world
(Thump thump THUMP THUMP!!!)
that is hidden from view. A blur. 
"I admit it, I did it! Tear up the walls, go to the attic, open the closer doors, it is right there in plain view. Take me, take me, I did the deed!" 

© 2014 david jones

Author's Note

david jones
i just want to see if people want to review, or at least make comments, about the story.
I also I have a couple things; one, do people think it's a worthy retelling of Poe's short story?
And what do you think about the horror of the story, and the way it is written?

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Added on July 20, 2014
Last Updated on August 1, 2014
Tags: Horror


david jones
david jones

Grand Rapids, MI

I like to read, write, play video games, chill with friends, listen to music etc. more..

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