It's All Hallow's Eve! So what better way to mark the occasion than with an episode of OCCASIONALLY. Mike pays homage to the macabre musings of the great Edgar Allan Poe by reciting perhaps his most famous story. Light a candle, pour a beverage, and let the Victorian goosebumps wash over you. Prepare yourself for the insidious beating of... The Tell Tale Heart
This is an unofficial transcript meant for reference. Accuracy is not guaranteed.
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Hey there it's micro- and this is not the way I heard it this is occasionally and the occasion is Halloween and I thought it might be fun to commemorate this occasion. With a ghost story, seems like everyday nowadays, national something or other day This is gonna be an ongoing thing, but because it's Halloween and because I love EDGAR Allan POE, I thought it might be fun to show. One of his better known tales with you guys. It's called the tell tale heart, I'm sure a lot of you are familiar with it. If you're not and if you're not familiar with how well he was unexampled difficult life guy, was born in Boston back in one thousand, eight hundred and nine his parents were actors. They both died before he was two. He grew up in Virginia with foster parents moved to my hometown in Baltimore and got busy writing his
biography is amazing. Nobody can quite pin the guy down. Allow scholars agree. He was a heavy drinker addicted to a drug called laudanum. There's not a guy soup and speculation and fabrication regarding his death, but He probably died as a result of drug and alcohol complications October, thirteenth, eighteen, forty, nine, a church, hospital in Baltimore Maryland, not far from where I grew up, believed that a perfect story should be readable in just one sitting that it should be tightly controlled highly compressed with topics that everybody can relate to. What you're about to here is ten paragraphs. Long. The tell tale heart is, I think, a perfect example of post theory of writing fun to listen to. I hope, and certainly fun to read one quick mentioned before we get into a lot of people are asking me if the ghost story in my book is true,
I have a book called the way I heard it. You ve probably heard me flogging it here on the pod cast for the last month or so, but in the book I tell the story of the year I spent living in a place called Georgia Farm, an old mansion in the middle of the country. While I was working at the Cuvier, see cable shopping channel. There was so much weirdness in my life and ninety. Ninety two. I can't even sum it up, but to those of you who are asking yeah the stories. True, Georgia Farm is still there and it was most assuredly haunted more on that at micro dot com, slash book. If your curious for now at girl impose set the mark pretty high with this when its telltale heart- and this is the way I read it true- nervous very, very dreadfully nervous- I had been and am, but why we.
Say that I'm mad the disease had sharpened. My senses not destroyed, not dulled them, above all, was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the Heaven and in the earth my heard many things in Hell. How, then, am I mad hearken and observe how healthily? How calmly I can tell you the whole story, it's 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 idle
of 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 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. Now this is the point you fancy me mad mad men know nothing, but you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded with what caution. With what foresight with what dissimulation I went to work. I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I go
him and every night about midnight. I turned the latch of his door and opened it. Oh so gently and then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern all closed closed, so that no light shone out and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in I moved it. Slowly very, very slowly so that I might not disturb the old man sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening. So far that I could see him as he lay up on his bed. What a madman,
I've been so wise as this and then when my head was well in the room I undid the lantern cautiously, oh so cautiously cautiously, for the hinges creaked. I undid it just so much that a single thin re fell upon the vulture I and this I did for seven long nights every night just at midnight, but I found the I always closed, and so it was impossible to do the work, for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his evil eye, and every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into
chamber and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name and a hearty tone and inquiring how he has passed the night so easy he would have had to have been a very profound old man, indeed to suspect that every night, just twelve, I looked in upon him. While he slept upon the eighth night, I was more than usually cautious and opening the door. A watches minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had, I felt the extent of my powers of my sagacity
I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph to think that there I was opening the door little by little and he not even to dream of my secret deeds are thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea, and perhaps he heard me for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled now, you may think that I drew back, but no his room was his black is pitch with a thick darkness. The shutters were close fastened through fear of robbers, and so I knew he could not see the opening of the door and I kept pushing it on steadily steadily. I had my head in and was about to open the lantern
when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening in the old man sprang up in bed crying out who's. There I kept quite still and said nothing for a whole hour. I did not move a muscle and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening, just as I have done night after night hearkening to the death watches in the wall. Presently I heard a slight grown and I knew It was the grown of mortal terror, it was not a groan of pain or of grief. Oh no, it was the low stifled, sound that arises from the bottom of the soul. When overcharged with all. I knew the sound well many a night just at midnight when all the world,
slept. It is welled up from my own bosom deepening with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me when I say I knew it well, I knew what the old man felt and pitied him. Although I chuckled at heart, I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first step, noise when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fan see them causeless, but could not? He had been saying to himself. It is nothing but the wind in the church It is only a mouse crossing the floor or it is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp. Oh yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions, but how
It found all in vain all in vain, because death in approaching him had stopped with his black shadow before him and enveloped the victim, and it was the mournful. In ruins of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel, although He neither saw nor heard but to feel the presence of my within the room. When I had waited a long time very patiently. Without you bring him lie down. I resolved to open a little a very, very little crevice in the lantern, so I opened it. You cannot imagine how stealthily stealthily until at length the simple dim.
Re, like the thread of a spider shot from out of the crevice and fell full upon the vulture. I it was open, wide, wide open and I grew furious ass. I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness all the all blue, with a hideous veil over at the chilled, the very marrow in my bones, but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person for I had directed the re as if by instinct, press firstly upon the damn spot and have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over
units of the sense. Now I say there came to my ears a low doll, quick sound such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound. Well too, it was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased. My fury as the beating of drum stimulates the soldier and courage, but even yet I refrained and kept still I scarcely breathed I held the lantern motionless. I tried house deadly. I could maintain the re upon the eye. Meantime, hellish tat, two of the heart increased
it grew quicker and quicker, louder and louder at every instant, the old man's terror must have been extreme. It grew louder. I save louder every moment. Do you mark me? Well, I have told you I'm nervous, so I am now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house. So strange noises, this had excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still beating grew louder. How I thought the heart must burst and now a new anxiety seized me. The sound would be heard a the old man's our had come with a yell I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room he shrieked once once. Only in an instant, I dragged him to the floor had pulled the heavy bent over him live inside
old gaily to find the deed so far done, but from many minutes the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me. It would not be heard through the wall at length. It ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse
Yes, he was stone stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there for many minutes. There was no pulsation, he was stone dead is. I would trouble me no more. If still, you think me mad, you will think so. No longer when I describe the wise precautions, I took for the concealment of the body, the night waned and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all, I just remembered the corpse by cut off the head and the arms and the legs. I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber and deposit it all between the scantling's. I then replace the boards so cleverly soap
cunningly that no human eye, not even his, could have detected anything wrong. There was nothing to wash out no stain of any kind, no blood spot whatever I had been to worry for that. A tub had caught all When I had made an end of these labors, it was for a clock. Still dark is midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart for what had I now to fear. There entered three men who introduced themselves with perfect. Suavity, as officers of the police, a shriek had been heard by a neighbor during the night, suspicion of foul play had been aroused
formation had been lodged at the police office and they the officers had been deputed to search the premises. 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 and the wild of DAS city of my perfect triumph, placed my own
it 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 wish them gone. My head ached and I fancied a ringing in my ears. Still they sat and shouted. 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.
Till at length. I found that the noise was not within my ears. No doubt I grew very pale, but I talk more fluently and with a heightened voice, yet the sound increased and what could I do? It was a low doll, quicksand, much like a sound ass. A watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath, and yet the officers heard it not. I talk more quickly more vehemently, but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles in a high key had with violence. 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
two fury by the observations of the men, but the noise steadily increased. Oh god. What could I do? I phoned I re. I swore I swung the chair upon which I have been sitting and greater than upon the board's, 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 days spected. They knew they. We're making a mockery of my horror. This I thought- and this I think, but anything was better than this agony. Anything was tolerable. Then this derision, I could
those hypocritical smiles! No longer! I felt that I must scream or die and now again louder louder, louder, Love villains, I shrieked dissembled Navarre, I admit the deed tear up the plagues here here. It is the better he is. He is.
Transcript generated on 2019-12-30.