"The Raven" and The Fly

I’ve been intrigued by Mr. Poe since I was introduced to “The Raven” way back when.  He has written numerous short stories with a similar dark and somber tone. ?The Pit and the Pendulum" and "The Telltale Heart" are two more of my favorites.  If you are unfamiliar with Mr. Poe’s work I’ll give you a brief overview.

The Raven is a poem written to describe the deep grief and despair Edgar felt at the loss of the love of his life. In his gloom he is visited by a Raven who sits in his room and taunts him with the knowledge that “Lenore” is gone forever.  It is a tale that it is both spooky and fascinating.

The Pit and the Pendulum is about a prisoner strapped to a table in the center of a rat infested pit. Above the prisoner a pendulum swings. The weight of the pendulum is a a sharpened blade.  As  the Pendulum swings the blade inches lower and lower in a slow march towards cutting him in two.

The Telltale Heart is about a guilty conscience. A murder hides his victim beneath the floor. When the police come to question him he imagines that everyone in the room can hear the heart of the dead man beating still.

So late this summer and into early fall, the flies got really bad around here. The found their way into our apartment and tormented me mercilessly. Then though I managed to kill a lot of them, they were never completely eradicated!

As I was continually irritated by these annoying insects I began to experience a mood much as I imagine Mr. Poe may have experienced while writing many of his dark tales. I imagined myself in a dark, dingy, prison cell. Day after day I have lain in this depressing cell. So secure is this tiny room, I can get no sense of the outside world. I can’t even hear the footsteps of whoever brings my tray of food twice each day.

And then, one happy, glorious day, as the tray slides thru the slot…………. a fly rides in on the mashed potatoes.

“Hello, Fly! Nice to see you! Where have you been all my life?”

“Buzzzzzz!”

“Here, would you like more potatoes?”

“Buzzzzz!”

“How about a drink of water?”

How do you think I’m gonna feel when that poor fly dies of old age in a month or two?  

It’s all a matter of perspective isn’t it?