Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale
Heart” was told by an insane narrator. Through this character’s point of view
you get the idea that everything is sort of blown out of proportion with this
guy. I don’t think we can trust this narrator at all, because like I said
before he is so dramatic about everything, and he is obviously mentally
unstable. Through his eyes, we are the predator, and we don’t really get to
experience the fear that the old man felt.
Now if the poor and helpless old
man was telling the story, we would probably be reading about the extreme fear,
and then pain he feels as he is crushed by the bed. Not that we don’t already
pity the old man, but if we read this story from his view, we would probably
pity him even more. This would probably be a much more gruesome story if it
were told from this point.
I heard the crash at around
midnight. As soon as I sat up in bed, I knew that I wasn’t alone. I wished
desperately that I could see out of both eyes, so that it might be easier to
look about in the dark. It became obvious very quickly that I would never fall
asleep, or move for that matter, for I was completely frozen in fear. I let out
a small and pitiful groan, and wouldn’t dare lie back down. As the time wore on
I could feel and hear my heart beating louder and faster, until I feared that
whatever was in here with me would hear it. I wonder if the predator found it
amusing. All of a sudden I heard the door creak open a little wider, and before
I knew what happened I had been pinned to the ground. I looked up into the eyes
of the person that I had least expected this to be, but at the same time I had
always known. The only thing I could do was keep from screaming as he crushed
me with my own bed.
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