Mae Anne

To be in her arms once again would be like being in the arms of an angel. She radiated beauty with every step she took, every smile that lit up her face, and every movement of her body. Her hair was short and had some curl; it was the color of milk chocolate, with eyes to match. The last image I have of her floats before my eyes, no blood to give her cheeks a rosy blush, and eyes with no life left within. This was Mae Anne, and I loved her.

            Mae Anne Stock and I met at Grosse Pointe High in 1926. From the moment we met, she was in love with me as I was her. We would walk, with the lake on one side of us, and the cemetery on the other, we would talk sitting out on her front porch when the weather wouldn’t hold us back, we would spend every moment together when we could. Every moment we spent together was perfect, and we thought they would last forever, until one day when forever ended.

            It was 1927, one year after Mae Anne and I had met, and it was going to be a perfect Saturday. I had already asked her father, and with his permission, I was going to propose to her. We had graduated from high school two weeks before, and the day was going to be perfect. As I walked up the path to her house, she flung open the door, and with an enormous she said “Hi Louis.” A simple greeting, just like she always gave me. Her father came up behind her, and with a knowing smile told us to have fun, but be back in an hour. What we didn’t know was that Mae Anne would never come home.

            We went for a walk, just as we did every Saturday. We would walk in comfortable silence or talk, I don’t remember what we talked about, and I wish I could.  I could feel her ring burning a hole in my pocket. We were about to cross the street, and I had decided that once we crossed it, I would ask her. Mae Anne was a few steps behind me, and then I heard it.

            There was crunching medal, and the cracking sound of someone hitting the ground too hard. There she was, lying on the ground, motionless. I ran to her, and even though it was only a small distance away from her, it felt like I was walking a mile trying to get to her. I bent down, screaming her name, but she didn’t respond. Her eyes were looking up towards the sky, unmoving, and lifeless. Her body was still warm, but there was no blush in her cheeks. There I was, on the ground, crying, and holding Mae Anne’s lifeless body tightly in my arms. She was gone, and part of my soul was too.

            I don’t remember the weeks after her death. There was a dark cloud that was always hanging over me. I would go out and walk the paths we used to walk, but never past the cemetery again, that’s where she was, and I couldn’t grasp that she was truly gone. After many weeks, I decided to go. I couldn’t stand living in Grosse Pointe anymore, not seeing her family, or the spot where she was hit, I just had to go. I decided to go to Boston. Boston had to be different then Grosse Pointe and that it was. Boston was a large city, lots of life to it; I hoped that some of its life would rub off on me.

            I went to college in Boston, and in my Latin class, I met a girl. Her name was Rose, and she looked nothing like Mae Anne. She had blond hair, and blue eyes that sparkled when she smiled. We married three years after Mae Anne died, and I finally thought I was going to be happy. I was wrong.

            Rose and I had what should have been a happy life; we had two sons, Charles and Richard, a good house, and I had a good job working at a newspaper. Things haunted me though, things that I couldn’t stop.

            I had nightmares, every night, without fail. It was sunny in the beginning, and I was crossing the street, and then I would hear it, the crash. The medal would crunch, the person, whom I assumed to be Mae Anne, would hit the ground. I would turn around, and run to her, when I got close to her, she wasn’t there anymore, and the sky had gone black. I would wake up in a cold sweat, shivering and confused. I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep after that, with the fear that I would have the nightmare again.

            One night, in the middle of July, I woke up from my nightmare, and instead of just staying in bed like I normally did, I decided to leave Rose sleeping and go to the kitchen. When I walked in, she was standing there. Her hair was the same the last time I had seen her, short with curl, but her eyes, they were different. Her eyes were the same color, brown like milk chocolate, but they didn’t twinkle like they once did. They just looked at me, and I just looked back. There was Mae Anne Stock standing in my kitchen.

            “Louis,” she said in a low, haunting voice, “you left me. You always promised me that you would love me forever.”

            “Mae Anne, are you really here?” I whispered in disbelief.

            “I’ve always been here, Louis. You just never looked for me. Why didn’t you ever look for me? Did you lie to me?” She said this sadly; the look on her face was one I had never seen before. It would have been a sad look if the look could reach her eyes, but they were as dead as they were on the day I held her in the middle of the street.

            “I didn’t know to look for you. You died; I thought I would never see you again. I never lied to you though, Mae Anne.”

            “You said that you would love me forever,” she screeched. “You married her. You have them. You love them, and you never even looked for me.” I was looking frantically back up the stairs that led into the kitchen, hoping Mae Anne’s howling wouldn’t wake up my family. As soon as I thought my family, I thought about how that should have been Mae Anne who was sleeping up stairs, and they should be her boys sleeping in the room next to her. I looked back at her then, expecting her to be there, but just like in my dream, she had disappeared.

            The next day, I went to work as usual, came home as usual, ate dinner as usual, went to sleep as usual, and had the same nightmare as usual. Instead of staying in bed as usual, I went down to the kitchen like I did the night before. She was standing there again, waiting for me to come down. This time I sat down at the little table with four chairs that sad in the middle of the little kitchen of our house. The ice box was behind me, and I was facing the cabinets. The table had a white lace table cloth on it, and in the center there were flowers that I had brought home for Rose four days before.

            “Mae Anne,” I said quietly, “have you been waiting in my kitchen all these years, just waiting for me to come down stairs?” I made sure that I didn’t take my eyes off of her, fearing that she would disappear like she did the night before and how she does in my nightmares.

            “Yes, I always have been.” Mae Anne said quietly, like she was hurt. “I thought you would come down to see me, but you never did. You stayed with her.”

            “I never knew you were here, Mae Anne.”

            “You never came to look, Louis.” Every word she says sends a chill up my spine. I couldn’t determine if I was actually seeing her or just imagining it, but that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that I was sitting in the dark. It didn’t matter that my wife and sons were unknowingly sleeping upstairs. All that mattered was that Mae Anne was standing in front of me again. “You never even came to my grave. You left me.” Her voice was rising; I knew I had to do something.

            “Mae Anne, Mae Anne, Mae Anne. I just couldn’t accept that you were gone. I never looked for you because I never knew where to look.” I looked at her to see if she heard what I said. Really heard it, because it was the truth. I never could truly accept that she was gone, that I would never see her again. I never visited because I didn’t want to be reminded that she was gone forever, and I never looked because I never knew that I needed to.

            “Well, we can be together now, Louis. You found me now.” She looked hopeful, but again the look didn’t reach her eyes.

            “Mae Anne, you’re not living, I can’t be with you. I love you, but I can’t be with you. I have Rose now, and the boys. They need me.”

            “You did lie.” With that, she was gone. I went down to the kitchen every night after my nightmare to see if she was there, but she never was again. After a month, I stopped going down stairs, and then all of a sudden, the dreams stopped.

             I tried to convince myself that none of it had happened. I so desperately wanted to see Mae Anne again that my mind had made up her ghost. Until one day, I was walking to work. I had decided not to drive. It was a nice day, sunny like it was the day Mae Anne died, and like in all of my dreams. Then it happened. I felt the impact, felt myself flying through the air, felt myself hitting the ground. I stood up, and looked down, there was my body.

             I was lying on the ground, just as Mae Anne had been. Eyes open, looking up towards the sky, still open, with no life left in them. I turned and I saw her. “I knew you would come back to me some day. Come with me, Louis, now we can be together.” She extended her hand towards me, I looked down at my body on the ground, and I took her hand.

            I thought I would never feel that touch again. Now that I was the same as her, her emotions reached her eyes. I wondered if someone saw me, the new me, if my emotions would reach my eyes. The darkness that I once felt was gone, though I do feel some darkness. I left Rose, I left Charles, I left Richard, and I left everything I had in Boston. I gained something much more though. I got my Mae Anne back, and she got me.

Edgar Allan Poe's Obsession with Death

Grace Henning

Hour 1

Mr. Provenzano

16 March 2012

Edgar Allan Poe’s Obsession with Death

            Through Edgar Allan Poe’s many works, it can be seen that he has an obsession with death. Many of his stories revolve around the idea of death being linked to a different emotion, such as love and fear. In “Ligeia” love and death are linked to the narrator’s life with the title character. “The Premature Burial” links death to fear, as does “The Fall of the House of Usher”. In “The Tell-Tale Heart” Poe attaches death to desire and the senses. While in “The Masque of Red Death” he shows death as something undefeatable. Poe constantly refers to death and it is an overbearing theme in many of his works. Poe’s obsession is never ending and casts a shadow on many of his pieces. “The Masque of Red Death”, “The Tell-Tale Heart”, “Ligeia”, “The Premature Burial”, and “The Fall of the House of Usher” all demonstrate Edgar Allan Poe’s clear obsession with the topic of death.

            “The Masque of Red Death” by Poe links death to something tangible, time. This link can be seen through the ebony clock that is mentioned multiple times throughout the story. Everything that happens in the palace revolves around the clock. When the party is going on, and the clock goes off “all is silent save the voice of the clock” (Poe, “The Masque of Red Death”). The personification of the Red Death also ends up standing underneath the clock, and “Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all” (Poe, “The Masque of Red Death”). This shows that even with death, time will go on, and it always will. Poe’s obsession can be seen through his lengthy description of the gruesomely masked “man”. Poe focuses on the man’s death like look, and not the party goers’ emotions looking at a terrifying sight.  Through “The Masque of Red Death” Poe conveys his dismal view of death, and its inevitability, as well as his obsession. While Poe links death to the tangible time in this story, in “The Tell-Tale Heart” he links it to more sensatory details.

            Poe plays into the narrators senses in “The Tell-Tale Heart”. There are no overly lengthy descriptions things in this piece of his work, as opposed to many other pieces. This stripped detail adds to the heightened senses of narrator. The unnamed narrator has an obsession with death just as Poe does. The narrator does not see this obsession as madness but that the old man’s death as something that is necessary. The narrator’s extreme obsession can be seen after the old man’s death, when the police come. While he is talking to the police, he says that he “placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim” (Poe, “The Tell-Tale Heart”). While sitting with the police, the narrator starts to hear the old man’s heart beating beneath him, driving him to madness. Poe was making a statement about death coming back to haunt one, and becoming an obsession. This extreme sensory overload for the narrator is an example of Poe’s obsession with death. The extreme senses of the narrator of “The Tell-Tale Heart” lead him to have extreme emotions, just like the narrator in “Ligeia” has.

            “Ligeia” is about love and death, and the inherent link between them. The narrator, who remains unnamed, has an obsessional love for his late wife Ligeia. Even though he cannot remember how he met her, how they started their romance, and he does not recall her last name, he is sure to make a point of having loved her with his whole heart. His love for Ligeia is shown through his ability to recollect every detail of her, and her beauty. While she has since died, the narrator admits that her name would “bring before mine eyes in fancy the image of her who is no more” (Poe, “Ligeia”). After his wife dies, the narrator moves to England, and meets another woman, Rowena. Rowena is the opposite of Ligeia; she has fair hair and eyes, while Ligeia had raven colored hair, and black eyes, showing his intent on moving on from Ligeia. Though he marries Rowena, the narrator does not feel love for her, and she dies just a few months into the marriage, and while the narrator is lying next to her after her death, she comes back to life. Though it is not Rowena, it is Ligeia. This narrator was just as obsessed with death as Poe was. Poe was showing the connection between death and love. This connection is strong, and through this story’s supernatural elements, it seems as if love can bring a loved one back. Poe linked the strong emotion of love with death, because of his obsession, and the fact that they seemingly go hand in hand. While in “Ligeia” Poe showed his obsession with death through the pleasant emotion of love, in “The Fall of the House of Usher”, he shows it through a not as pleasant emotion, fear.

            “The Fall of the House of Usher” revolves completely around fear, mainly in the form of claustrophobia. Poe describes the fear as “an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart” (Poe, “House of Usher”). Everything in this story is linked to the ‘House of Usher’ which refers to both the family, and the actual mansion. As described by the narrator, “the entire family lay in the direct line of descent…” (Poe, “House of Usher”). The family’s remaining members are the narrator’s friend Roderick, and his twin sister, whom the narrator did not know existed, Madeline. Madeline seemingly dies, and both Roderick and the narrator bury her in the family crypt. Though, Madeline was not actually dead, and so they buried her alive, which was a fear expressed throughout the story. As the ‘House of Usher’ crumbles when Roderick and Madeline both die, the actual House of Usher crumbles as well. Poe’s obsession can be seen through the fear of being buried alive, and the focus the family’s demise. The fear of being buried alive, and the emotion of fear associated with death in “The Fall of the House of Usher” carries on into “The Premature Burial”.

            “The Premature Burial” revolves around the fear that many people had of being buried alive. With what seem like true stories at the beginning, add to the eerie feeling of the story. Poe describes being buried alive as “the most terrific of these extremes which has ever fallen to the lot of mere morality” (Poe, “The Premature Burial) and “painful, intense, and widely-extended excitement” (Poe, “The Premature Burial”). These seemingly real accounts show Poe’s obsession with death, because he would have had to put a lot of thought in to how being buried alive would have happened. Also, Poe would have had to think about the feelings that one would have while being buried alive. The entire story is that of being buried alive, and the feelings that one would have while it was happening, show the obsession Poe had with death, and dying.

            Poe also puts the difference between life and death in “The Premature Burial”. The difference is seen to be very small, “boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague” (Poe, “The Premature Burial). Poe not seeing the difference between life and death shows his true obsession, and how he feels about humans sometimes being truly dead inside. Poe talks about the parts of Hell and how horrible it could be. Along with writing about the similarities between life and death, Poe draws similarities between the living world, and Hell, “even to the sober eye of Reason, the world of our sad Humanity may assume the semblance of a Hell…” (Poe, “The Premature Burial”). Poe’s comparisons between this world, and Hell, show his obsession with death, through his ability to draw parallels between both worlds.

            Through these works by Edgar Allan Poe, his obsession with death is apparent. He attaches death with emotions and palpable things. He also draws conclusions between the real world, and Hell. There are examples in multiple stories show how much time and thought Poe put into the feelings and emotions of death. Poe’s obsession came through in his writing, putting that obsession in to many of his narrators. Death reaches into fear and the senses making it a very real and scary thing. Poe’s obsession with death reaches to every part of it. It reaches to how it could happen and what could happen after one dies. Poe’s obsession with death reaches to all parts of his writing, and makes his writing better. 
                                                                           Works Cited

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Fall of the House of Usher." Poestories.com. Web. 12 Mar. 2012.  <http://poestories.com/read/houseofusher>

 Poe, Edgar Allen. “Ligeia.” Poestories.com. Web. 12 March. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/ligeia>

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Masque of the Red Death." Poestories.com. Web. 12 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/masque>

 Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Premature Burial." Poestories.com. Web. 12 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/premature>

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Tell-Tale Heart." Poestories.com. Web.  112 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/telltaleheart>

 

 

           

           

The Woman

Aaron Vass leaned back in his chair and looked down the dark hallway in his drab office building. All he could see was a light flickering at the end of the hallway, and a janitor in blue coveralls sweeping the floor. Aaron turned and looked back at his blank computer. He then noticed that it was seven o’clock, and he needed to get home. Grabbing his wrinkled gray suit jacket, he made his way to the elevator, and went down to the ground floor.

            As he walked away from the prison like building, Aaron saw someone standing on the other side of the street. Though he had never seen her before, she waved to him. She had on ratty clothes, and her fiery red hair was tangled, with leaves in it. He just walked by the girl, not giving her a second thought.

            Aaron had no reason to be unhappy. He had a good job, it was rather boring, but it was still a job, which many people could not claim to have. He had a good house, it was small, but still a house and he had chosen to live there. He had money; all of it was family money, but still money.  Aaron had many neighbors, most of them families, young and old, but he had never bothered to get to know any of them. His neighbors had tried in the past to get to know him, but after never going to the dinner parties or block parties, they finally got the hint, and stopped inviting him to things.

            Just as he was finishing heating up his dinner in the microwave, Aaron heard a knock at the door. There hadn’t been a knock at his door for a long time, and when he opened the door he was surprised at who he saw on the other side. It was the woman, from the other side of the street, with the fiery red hair. “Hello, Aaron,” she said, looking at him like she knew him.

            “What do you want?” he responded, “I don’t know you.”

            “I just came here to talk, Aaron. May I come in?” she asked while making her way into the front hallway.

            “I don’t want to talk to you.” Aaron said unhappily, “I don’t know you.”

            “You’ve always been so unhappy, Aaron, why is that?” she asked, while making her way farther into the house. From the kitchen, the microwave can be heard going off. “I think your dinner is ready.”

            “I don’t care about my dinner anymore. I just want you, a stranger, out of my house.” Aaron said as he followed the mysterious woman into his living room.

            “Nice house.” She said.

            “Thanks.”

            “Why don’t you get a bigger one?”

            “I don’t want one.”

            “Well, maybe a bigger house will make you happy.”

            “I’m not unhappy.”

            “Yes, you are Aaron. Everyone knows you are. But I just don’t understand why you are. You have everything everyone could want. A job, a house, and money. What more do you want Aaron?” she said this all so quickly Aaron barely understood her.

            “Why do you care if I’m unhappy? Who are you anyway?” Aaron said, he was getting more agitated by the minute, and didn’t like this stranger in his house, and wanted to get her out.

            “Why, Aaron, I’m the devil.” She said it so matter-a-fact that he almost believed her.

            “I don’t believe that you are the devil. You don’t look like the devil.” He said, his voice wavering a bit. All of a sudden the house turned cold, and the stranger whipped around, her eyes glowing red. Aaron back up, falling into the chair that was behind him, he was scared silent.

            “Do you think I would lie?” She growled.

            “No, no, no,” He replied in a quivering voice, “I believe you, trust me, I do.”

            “Okay then.” She said, her eyes returning to green color they were before. The heat was also returning to the house, for that Aaron was grateful. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the devil was in his house. “What would you say if I said that I could make you happy?”

            “How could you make me happy? You’ve already said that I have everything I need to be happy.” Aaron said.

            “You do have everything you need to make you happy, but I can make that everything better. Though there are a few things that you will need to give me.”

            “What will I need to give you?” He asked skeptically.

            “I guess, it isn’t a few things, it is one thing specifically, your soul.”

            “I need to give you my soul?” He repeated.

            “Yes, your soul. You will be tied to me for eternity and have to do everything I want you to, but in return I will give you the things you need to make you happy.” She replied. He just sat there thinking. “Aaron, you’re going to have to tell me yes or no. This isn’t an offer that will always be on the table.”

            “If I give you my soul, and do everything you want, you’ll give me the things I need to make me happy?” She nodded. “Well, I guess, if it would make me happy.”

            “That’s a very good choice, Aaron.” As she said that, the air in the house began to whirl around, picky both Aaron and the devil up, and as this happened, Aaron got a strange feeling. He felt something leave him, and when he was set back on the ground, he felt strangely empty, and the devil was gone, with just a lock of fiery red hair remaining of the devil.

            The next day, he woke up at the normal time, though he still felt that strange feeling of being empty. He got ready as usual, walked to work as usual, but when he got to work, nothing was usual. The building where he worked was gone. He didn’t see any of the people who he worked with. Aaron was confused, and he looked around. As he spun in a circle, he saw a woman with fiery, unruly red hair, but when he looked back, she was gone. Aaron felt a paper smack up against his leg. He bent down and read what it was. Your job was boring, it said, so I got rid of it and the people you worked with. Now you’ll be happy. Aaron was confused. His job was boring, but he didn’t want it gone or the people who worked there gone. There was Jennifer, the pretty blond, who always brought him coffee, and David, who would sometimes help him with his reports, even if David had reports to do himself. As Aaron walked home, the sky seemed to become grayer.

            Walking up his block, Aaron saw wrecking balls in front of his house. He ran up the street, and spun around trying to figure out what was going on again. Like last time, he saw the woman, but when he turned back to see her, she was gone. Again, he felt a piece of paper hit his leg. Trembling, Aaron bent down and read what was written on the paper. Your house was small, and made you unhappy, so I’m knocking down the houses next to it, to make your house bigger. Now you’ll be happy. He never really knew his neighbors, but he didn’t want them gone. The Jeffersons lived next to him on the right, they had two kids, Ryan and Ella, who could be annoying but they could also be cute, like when they had that lemonade stand out front. Then there were the Connors, who lived next to him on the left, they had a little baby, named Ava, and a puppy named Scout, sometimes Scout did keep Aaron up at night with his insane barking, but he was cute, and so was Ava. He didn’t understand what was going on, and what mess he had gotten himself into, so he just ran, and ran, until his got to the empty lot, 3 miles away from his house.

            “You can’t run from me, Aaron.” A voice from behind him said. When Aaron turned around, he saw her, and her fiery red hair. “This is what you wanted. You wanted to be happy, and I said I could make you happy. You gave me your soul, and I did everything to make you happy. I got rid of your job, and I made your house bigger. You should be happy.”

            “But I’m not. I’m not happy. I want my soul back; I don’t want any of this anymore.” Aaron whined.

            “Oh, I can’t do that Aaron. And now that I have your soul, I need you to do something for me. I need you to get me another soul.”

            “How am I supposed to do that?” Aaron was dreading the answer that was about to come. With a look from her, there was a gust of air, both she and Aaron rose into the air just like at his house the night before. As he was dropped down, Aaron was alone again, but when he looked down in a puddle that had appeared at his feet, he noticed that he had fiery red hair, with leaves in it, and red eyes.