The Tell-Tale Heart

Synopsis: A haunting account of a tormented man who continually re-admits himself into a medical facility, in a futile attempt to escape from his pending madness. Based on Edgar Allan Poe's poem "The Tell-Tale Heart".
 
IMDB:
3.7
NOT RATED
Year:
2016
81 min
1,140 Views


1

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.

I was taken.

I sacrificed myself

to protect my team.

To protect you all.

But my sacrifice never ends.

No, not again.

Dear God, not again.

Will I ever escape,

will I ever be free?

Don't tell them anything.

Do not tell them anything.

Don't let them break you.

Don't tell them anything!

I wasn't always broken.

I once commanded the skies.

But now...

I can count on no one.

I Don't even know

if I can count on myself.

Maybe, maybe

this time it's over.

Maybe I've finally taken back

my life and my mind.

The price was too high.

No one else

would have given so much.

Let's start with last week.

I pray it's over now

and you can believe me.

And I can be at peace.

And be with her.

I'm makin' lies up

In my sleep

I run

From truth

How's he doing? He's been

awake for a few hours.

Did he say anything?

That's why we called you.

He won't stop talking.

Was he carrying anything?

Just this.

All right.

How you doing, Sean?

Gave us quite a scare

with that disappearing act.

You doing all right'?

You wanna talk

about what happened?

I'm here to help.

A lot of people

trying to help me lately.

Here.

Where you been?

You're shaking, Sean.

Are you nervous?

True, I'm nervous,

I'm very nervous.

But why would that make me mad'?

I feel

as if I can hear everything.

I'm sharper than ever.

I can hear your doubts,

hear your guilt.

I can hear all things in heaven.

Many things in hell.

This is interview number 13.

Do you remember what happened?

I remember everything.

I am not a madman.

I loved the old man.

He never wronged me,

ridiculed, insulted me.

I didn't want him for his money.

Money there was.

I think it was his eye.

Yes, it was his eye.

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.

Yes, his eye.

Why did he have to die'?

Tell me again, Sean,

what did he know?

What do you remember?

Listen how calmly and precisely

I can tell you this story.

And maybe you'll believe me.

My first time in New Orleans.

I wish I had better memories

of this beautiful city.

But my road to sanctuary

ran through this town,

and I can never forget.

As I rode the ferry across

the Mississippi River,

I could feel some clarity,

faint and fleeting,

but I was hopeful.

Maybe I could find peace.

Maybe my sacrifice

could come to an end.

Sean?

Yes.

I'm here to make sure

you get to the facility.

They don't want you

wandering off of it.

I didn't expect all of this.

It's nothing.

We always make sure

our guests are comfortable.

Lot of high up military

officials and politicians

come through here.

Is it far from here?

Huh, you in a hurry'?

It's not that far at all. Just relax

and enjoy the view of the river.

Sure is nice this time

of year, ain't it'?

Yes, it is.

Yeah, river's always changing.

Full of life.

Full of expression.

You lived here long?

All my life.

My parents were born here on

the island where I was raised.

And their parents.

And before that,

my great grandparents.

Interesting.

Most of my family

are fishermen, proudly.

Boy, I can't think of any other

place I'd rather be raised.

Tell you the truth, there's so many

stories, I could write a book on it.

When I was younger,

it was right around here, me

and my father were fishing

and caught a catfish

about half my size.

We'll be there soon.

I ain't gonna talk

your ear off, man.

No, I'm sorry. I, uh,

I just had a thought.

I wanted to write it down.

It helps me, so I don't forget.

It's all right.

I get it.

But he didn't get it.

No one could know

the price I paid.

I don't want credit.

I just want my life back.

Maybe this time

I could get it right.

I'd been told I was going

to see the best,

get the very best of care.

I wanted to believe that

with all of my heart.

All that was left of it anyway.

Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

What'?

Who's that'?

My name's Sean.

I'm supposed to be checking in.

Oh, I wasn't expecting you.

Normally the driver calls

when someone is dropped off.

I must've fallen asleep.

Sorry about the lights.

You can't depend

on the power in this place.

It goes out almost every day.

Well, you're used

to it, it seems.

Yeah, I suppose I am.

It's easier to adapt than to try

to make things the way

you think they ought to be.

Have you been here long?

All my life.

Or at least as long

as I can remember.

My father was a doctor, too.

It's in your blood then.

That's good.

I need a lot of help I'm told.

Oh, what you need

is afresh start.

And a new look on life,

which will come in the morning.

Oh, if it were that simple.

Well, that's up to you.

It's all in your attitude.

Haven't you heard that'?

I'm pretty tired.

Is there a room or...'?

Of course.

Follow me.

This place can seem

like a maze at first,

but you will get used

to it, soon enough.

This place must

be pretty old I assume.

Oh, it's history dates all the

way back to the late 1800s.

House was commissioned by a young

fella named Arthur Harris.

When he passed away,

his son redid the decor

and introduced the bust

of Edward Mordrake.

He supposedly had a face

at the back of his head.

It would cry and whisper things

to him while he tried to sleep.

What happened to him'? Who,

Edward or young master Harris'?

Both I guess.

Well, strangely,

their fate was the same.

They both killed themselves.

But these stories

are better saved

for when a better

light can be seen

and the hour is not so late.

Easy there. Now, don't worry.

It's not gonna bite.

Promise you,

it never hurt anybody.

I'm sorry, I, uh...

Don't think anything of it.

Go on, get some rest.

We have a lot of work to do.

Good night.

Good night.

Now, this is the point.

You fancy me mad.

Madmen know nothing.

But you should've seen me.

You should've seen

how wisely I proceeded,

with what caution,

with what foresight,

with what dissimulation

I went to work.

You can relax.

Relax.

How could anyone relax

under this scrutiny?

Constant questions,

distrusting glances.

The truth is here.

You will see how it unfolds.

You will see

my insanity is intact.

And I will end this.

I knew I could

not be alone in this.

That would be just too cool.

Help was always

just out of reach.

Just out of focus.

Sh*t.

I craved any escape.

Anything that

would dull my senses.

Anything that

would let me taste freedom.

Just a glimpse of a new start.

Or an end.

No!

Only here,

only in my blissful numb fog

could I dare to hope,

pray that she will come again.

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John La Tier

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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