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The Tell-Tale Heart

True! — nervous — very, very dreadfully nervous I had been…

It is impossible to say when it first came to me; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Passion there was, but object there was none. It was just an idea, a potential project.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I work — with what caution — with what foresight!

And yet, my idea was rejected. It had fast become a mere document stored in one of the folderly crevices of my laptop.

Time kept passing. I thought I’d forget it.

Tell-Tale Heart

But there it was: the folder. Every day I would open my laptop, work, and close it. Every day I’d see the folder on my desktop, and every day I’d feel the idea trapped in there. One day I took the laptop home. For reasons unknown, I was more than usually cautious about it. Maybe it was because I was quite *todmüde

But around twelve, as I lay in bed seemingly fast asleep, I felt it. I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour, I did not move a muscle.

The laptop screen had lit up and lit out.

But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears. The ringing became more and more distinct — until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.

It was a low, dull, quick sound — much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath.

And then I knew. I recognised the sound as if it were from the depths of my own soul. Rather, I recognised it coming from the depths of the blackened screen of my laptop.

I heard it — again! — hark! louder! louder! louder! louder! — it was the project, my idea, my rejected idea; beating with its hideous heart from the digital floorboards of my folder.

Oh, the Mad Men and the tell tale heart of their ideas long buried…

*todmüde - dead tired, extremely tired

Tell-Tale Heart


It is a truth universally acknowledged that ideas are often inversely proportional to the capacity they demand. Artists and genius persons working in an environment of structured creativity find themselves at odds when their ideas don’t work out. Sometimes we don’t let go of the rejected ideas. Other times, it is the ideas that don’t let go of us.

As strange as his works are, Edgar Allan Poe is no stranger to literary minds.

As a nod to his legacy, Gauri explores the relationship a creative person shares with their ideas through a rendition of his short story, The Tell Tale Heart.

Ideas, especially the rejected ones, often stay at the back of a mind more than a folder, evolving to have a life of their own if given a chance (if the said chance is a hefty dose of paranoia of a missed opportunity).

What inspired, or could we say, possessed Gauri, to write on this, is something only Edgar, Allan & Poe can figure out. If you know, you know.


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