Short Story

Incomplete Tale

Short Commentary
Incomplete but pleasing.
[Source – Pixabay]

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She is kind off telling an incomplete tale, but so what, right, it is a circle; she is so sure, and thus, the tale has a jumpy effect.

It is a spoonful of an old saga. Old, dear sir and madam, very old. Yet a concise one, for hey, the chores. Come on, come on!

No, it is not a decry; she is just talking about the metaphorical albatross around her neck.

And around her neck, and her, hers too and around mine.


Before finishing the post, please read Jamaica Kincaid’s short story “Girl” –

Click here to download the PDF file of this short story.


Joy meets joy!
[Source – Pixabay]

*

What good is an incomplete tale? As said earlier, an incomplete tale sooner or later completes a circle, like this one did.

And then? Well, it liberates and lightens the metaphorical albatross around one’s neck… and who knows, a day may shine here when the albatross quietly flies away.

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A Telltale Heart’s Secret

Short Review
Secret keeper’s lantern.
[Source – Pixabay]

True! – NERVOUS – very, very dreadfully nervous I had been – and am; but why will you say that I am 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. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! And observe how healthily – how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

– The opening paragraph of The Tell-Tale Heart, a short story by Edgar Allan Poe

A secret that punctures a heart, a heart that still beats, alive, yet unsure how, in a delirium reveals the secret to all. In Edgar Allan Poe’s short story, The Tell-Tale Heart, such a secret is shared with us.

Such a secret troubles the main character in the story and he begins simply by narrating it, gripping us first by raising our curiosity and later by force.

That is, a psychological force… for we are always free to get up and leave the old man’s dark room, but oh, we don’t. We hear and fear it as scene after scene unfolds.

Tension rises, our noble heart beats, not only because we suspect something horrible, truly tragic, but also because we recognise it…

We recognise the inexplicable rage, the feverish mind, the parched bond and the morbid thought that although residing in the backdrop knows well how to make itself heard.

Edgar Allan Poe’s poetry and prose often create a fantastical mysterious world where distinctly, incessantly the human mind tries to rein in something, something… where failure leads to a twist and success to a debacle.

His characters mock the world and oneself with equal fervour, pretending nothing at all, confessing the truth blatantly and leaving the readers with a secret.


I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that 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 for ever.

An excerpt from The Tell-Tale Heart, a short story by Edgar Allan Poe.

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