Gothic Story

A Frigid Resolution  

It was a numbing winter day in Grosse Pointe, Michigan. A light dusting of snow had recently glazed the city in a light shade of gray. No cars were commuting on the slick roads. The neighborhood stood inactive. In the shroud of snow stood the intimidating structure of Grosse Pointe South High School. It’s soaring bell tower, bulky pillars, and chapped stonewalls pleaded attention from all. This school holds most of the community’s history being one of the oldest buildings in the area. Today it was empty due to winter break but tonight the school would be accepting some mischievous students early.

            A small group of South students were brainstorming ideas of what to do with the first night off from school. Sitting around would not suffice for these energized Sophomores. They wanted to participate in a dim-witted act to please their naïve souls. The group finally made their decision. As a prank they would sneak out and ransack one of their teacher’s rooms. The plan was daring but perfect. The group then set out.

            Avoiding attention the teens darted in and out of the shrubs and hid behind broad tree trunks on their path to the school. The snow began to pick up and soon the students became concealed from sight. They finally arrived at the menacing walls of the school and frantically searched for an un-locked window. With a strong nudge one lashed open and the school was at the mercy of it’s students. The school was dark and quite bitter considering the lack of electricity and heat. The school in this state was vastly unfamiliar to the kids and struck fear into most of them. They had a job to accomplish though; the spray paint and silly string were going to be used at all costs. With a lecture from the leader figure in the group the fear of the dark and empty school was erased. In search of the disliked teacher’s room the teens began to play some minor pranks on one another. As the group approached the center of the building they ganged up and forcefully threw the leader figure into the library ”Cleminson Hall” and barricaded the set of bulky doors behind him. Thinking nothing of it he pulled up a chair and observed the beautiful sight of the snowstorm brewing outside through the glass doors and windows of Cleminson. With trust in his friends he soon dozed off.

            When he awoke something didn’t seem right, it wasn’t snowing anymore and there was not a sound to be heard throughout the school. Panicking, he started to yell for help. To which there was no reply. Dumbfounded he ran to the glass doors of Cleminson and viewed the schools front lawn. After some scanning something caught his eye, a few sets of footsteps were pressed into the deep snow, leading away from the window that him and his friends had broken into. They had left and forgotten him. The boy was speechless as he clasped to the handles of the set of glass exterior doors that would not budge as he shook them recklessly. Without motion the teen remained staring out the window. Finally he thought up a means of escape. He would break a glass window or door and run back to his home. But as he turned to look for a suitable tool to break the glass he found himself unable to move. His grasp on the door handles would not break like the glass he sought to destroy. His hands were frozen to the chilled brass handles and would remain there.

        

His icy body was found the next week and his hands had not moved an inch. A pane of glass on the door had been slightly fractured, resulting in a bloody scar upon the student’s head and a chilled pool of blood upon the floor. Next to the crack in the glass was the word HELP, written in large font with silly string. The students that discovered his body could only stop and stare at each other with extreme regret.    

Poe's Obsession with Death

Edgar Allen Poe

       Edgar Allen Poe has sent a chill down the spines of many through his literary works and unique writing style. Poe is referred to as one of the best Gothic authors of all time. With a Gothic theme comes mystery and macabre, two topics that he loved to incorporate into his short stories. Poe cherished the opportunity to write a story about murder and things that would perturb a grown man’s stomach. He truly possessed a talent denied to most of Earth’s population. Poe’s edge was the obsession with death.

            Edgar Poe was born January 19, 1809 in Boston, Massachusetts. Death and confusion overwhelmed Poe as a child, affecting him both physically and mentally. His Mother died when he was quite young and his cowardice Father was nowhere to be found; due to these tragedies Poe became an orphan. This is why he is such a great Gothic author. Death and agony has surrounded Poe his whole life and he knows firsthand what the outcome of death feels like. This obsession with death is portrayed in most all of his stories including, The Cask of Amontillado, The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar, The Fall of the House of Usher, The Masque of the Red Death, and The Premature Burial.

            The Cask of Amontillado may seem like a story built around revenge but don’t be fooled, this is what Poe wants his audience to think. The aspect of death is simply hidden throughout the venture of Montresor and his quest to erase Fortunato from the world. “I forced the last stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones. For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them (“The Cask of Amontillado” Poe).” Montresor is the narrator in this story and is Poe’s main tool in “touching” the minds of the audience. In this quote Poe is expressing his personal emotions through Montresor of glorifying torturous death. This is a blatant example of Poe’s infatuation with death. This is why he can describe death in such an effective manner.

            The Masque of the Red Death is another Gothic work shrouded in death by Poe. The story takes place in a castle of a Prince during the plague. The Prince, being afraid of the spreading disease and alone invites his wealthy friends to a party at his elegant castle. A mysterious figure appears at the party and he/she symbolizes the plague and death. ”It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical…(“The Masque of the Red Death” Poe).” The reason why Poe included this ebony clock in this story was to symbolize the relationship between death and time. The only thing that death answers to is time itself and when time expires death awaits. Poe mixes the true aspects of death and time wonderfully in this short story.

            The Premature Burial also demonstrates Poe’s views on death. Mostly all who walk this Earth fear the day when they stop breathing. Poe utilizes this fear to scare his audience and to teach them a valuable lesson to not run from the inevitable. Back in the nineteenth century the thought of being buried alive was not uncommon. Coffins were equipped with emergency devices such as a bell at the end of a rope in case the corpse was to awake. “In fact, the lady had been buried alive. Vitality had not altogether departed, and she was aroused by the caresses of her lover from the lethargy which had been mistaken for death (“The Premature Burial” Poe).” This quote depicts the fear that the narrator held within of being buried alive. In all, Poe relates fear with death and if death is what scares someone as they prepare to go to bed then they have not lived their life to the fullest.

            The Case of M. Valdemar refers to the agony of death. In this story by Poe Mr. Valdemar is withering away and wishes to evade death by being mesmerized “hypnotized”. “"For God's sake! -- quick! -- quick! -- put me to sleep -- or, quick! -- waken me! -- quick! -- I say to you that I am dead!"(“The Case of M. Valdemar” Poe)”. Here in the late stages of Mr. Valdemar’s mesmerized state he realizes that he was a fool to delay death through hypnosis and now he is technically already a dead man. In agony the narrator decides to wake Mr. Valdemar to relieve his suffering. “His whole frame at once -- within the space of a single minute, or even less, shrunk -- crumbled -- absolutely rotted away beneath my hands. Upon the bed, before that whole company, there lay a nearly liquid mass of loathsome -- of detestable putridity (Poe)”. Poe yet again warns his audience of the dangers of fleeing death but most importantly highlights the true misery death brings.

            The Fall of the House of Usher is the best example of Poe’s obsession with death. The narrator travels to his friend’s eerie house to meet and catch up. Odd activities occur in the home but the most important one was the mistaken death of the friend’s twin sister who had catalepsy, a disease that basically paralyzes the body and renders it incapable of any speech or movement. The men proceed to bury her body in the family tomb.” There was blood upon her white robes, and the evidence of some bitter struggle upon every portion of her emaciated frame. For a moment she remained trembling and reeling to and fro upon the threshold, then, with a low moaning cry, fell heavily inward upon the person of her brother, and in her violent and now final death-agonies, bore him to the floor a corpse, and a victim to the terrors he had anticipated (“The Fall of the House of Usher” Poe).” His sister fell dead on the floor from her struggles, followed by her brother, dead, due to fright. Poe in this fantastic short story communicates to the audience that all death aside from time is caused by mistakes. In this case the mistake was the act of burying a living human.

            Poe is obsessed with death period. In one way or another all of his Gothic short stories relate to death or an aspect associated with death. The Cask of Amontillado, The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar, The Fall of the House of Usher, The Masque of the Red Death, and The Premature Burial are all proof of this obsession. Poe taught the population about death and received enjoyment from scaring them to no extent with death. Overall, Poe’s Obsession with death is why he is such a known figure in literature to this day. He set the standards for all Gothic Authors that followed in his footsteps.

Bibliography

Giordano, Robert. "Welcome to PoeStories.com." Edgar Allan Poe, Short Stories, Tales, and Poems. Web. 16 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/>.

"Welcome to the Purdue OWL." Purdue OWL: MLA Formatting and Style Guide. Web. 16 Mar. 2012. <http://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/747/02/>.

"Edgar Allan Poe." Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 15 Mar. 2012. Web. 16 Mar. 2012. <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_Allan_Poe>.

"Poe, Edgar Allan." Poe, Edgar Allan (1809. Web. 16 Mar. 2012. <http://www.credoreference.com/topic/poe_edgar_allan_1809_1849>.

         

Faust Legend

The Tainted Sea

         It was a cold and barren February day in Kodiak Alaska. Faint snow crystals were falling from the heavens and the stars would illuminate them as they lay still upon the ground. Jack Dillinger had just thrown the last drunk out of his pub and returned silently to the second floor were he lived. The pub was left to him in his deceased father’s will. Dillinger never cared for the man or the run down pub. Rather, his eyes were set on alcohol, women, and corruption. He was a people person; after all he received most of his revenue by giving free drinks to susceptible customers, taking their valuables and money off their intoxicated bodies, and would then sell it to the next person that walked through the door. In all, Dillinger made this peaceful town hell. He did not receive full satisfaction for his actions because every morning when he looked in the shattered mirror he was still the same old middle classed man he had always been.

            Dillinger awoke in the morning from the reflection of the dim sun off of the icy ocean and the sound of snowmobiles commuting to the driver’s place of work. Stumbling out of his pub, fishing poles in hand Dillinger was off to catch some breakfast. Fishing was the only thing he liked as much as alcohol. He was one of the only people dumb enough in the town to put their life in jeopardy by navigating the freezing waters in exchange for some salmon. He hopped aboard his carbon fiber death trap and set out. Today the pitch-black water was willing to share some of its vast riches with Dillinger. Content with the mornings catch he started towards shore but something caught his attention. It wasn’t a whale but another fishing boat.

            This vessel was not modern or seaworthy. Upon further inspection it was wooden and brittle. The wood seemed chard as if kissed by flames. There was one deckhand slumped at the end of the dinghy grasping a single rod. The man sat motionless. Dillinger was intrigued and let curiosity get the best of him. As he approached cautiously he noticed that there was not one sheet of ice perched at the waters surface, the water was as smooth as a pane of glass, and found that there was no more need for a coat. Dillinger’s engine abruptly coughed and ceased to run. He was now dead in the water with a complete stranger. The man turned very casually and exposed his oil-tainted face accompanied by his glazed, red eyes. He was covered in seared burlap rags and was wearing a red, silk bandana upon his head.

            “I’ve been expecting you.” The man said.

            “What? Me?” replied Dillinger dumbfounded.

            “Yes, Mr. Dillinger. It seems like you have yourself a bit of a problem.”

            Dillinger brushed the fact that the man had known his name aside and frowned as he looked at his empty engine.

            “Yes I suppose. Gas now a days is just too expensive. You got to put your money towards more beneficial things if you know what I mean.”

            The man chuckled silently.

            “You are not fooling anyone Mr. Dillinger besides yourself. Does money matter that much to you?”

            “More would make my life a lot better.” Dillinger said in an excited tone.

            “Would it now? Well what if I could make you a billionaire?”

            “Nice one!” Dillinger said laughing.

            “Listen boy, you see these here maps? Drill at these indicated places and you would acquire all the money the world has to offer. And if you have not connected the dots I’m the devil and your pitiful laughter is not wanted here. Shake my hand and these maps are yours and your soul is mine to keep upon your death.”

            Dillinger considered for a while but finally accepted the appealing offer thinking that the devil would never be able to find him to take his soul once he died.

            “One last thing why do all your lures have a name etched into them?” Said Dillinger jokingly.

            “These? Well let’s just say that these people had made a similar deal that you have just made with me. Now goodbye Mr. Dillinger” Said the devil as he reached over to fill up Dillinger’s tank.

            Dillinger then sped off with a wide smile on his face.

            Fifty years later pipelines ran throughout Alaska like an oversized cobweb. Dillinger believed that the environment must be the one to pay the price for his so called accomplishments. Now in his seventies the old man sat quietly in his mansion in Anchorage. He was partied out and weak. While sipping a glass of scotch he thought about the deal he had made with the devil and thought nothing of it. Instead he remembered his life at the pub and decided to go fishing one last time for old times sake. He jumped aboard his private jet and away he went toward Zodiac Island. There his yacht was awaiting his arrival.

            The water was quite choppy but he took his chances anyway considering the price tag that came with the ship. After a long day of Fishing his body was weak and ready for bed. The waters had calmed so he anchored the boat and took a quick nap. He awoke later and stepped out of bed in a lethargic matter. He grew cold hastily and his feet went numb. Something wasn’t right. He glanced down and noticed a pool of water by his feet. He rushed to the door and yanked it open horrified. Upon opening the door all Mr. Dillinger was greeted with was a colossal wall of frigid water. The last sight Mr. Dillinger’s corpse laid its lifeless eyes upon was that of a shimmering Lure. One that had his name etched upon its side.