Tell-Tale Heart Analysis

The first time I read the Tell-Tale Heart was in the sixth grade. Until now I did not realize there was much mystery to it. For starters, I did not know that the narrator and the old man lived in the same house. It is obvious that the narrator is completely insane. The narrator describes the eye as being like the eye of a vulture. Vultures are scavengers that swoop in upon dead animals to feast on the carcass. Thus, they are ever-present and diligent. They see everything. The eye in this story symbolizes that sort of penetration. The narrator is obviously disturbed and terrified that someone will see into his deepest fears and violent plans. The eye represents the window into the mind and soul of the narrator. It is always watching him - no matter what, he will be observed. This comes true in the end when the police come and the narrator reveals his own guilt. Someone is always watching - someone always knows. You could also say that the eye is the conscience of the narrator. It watches him because it knows that he is planning to do wrong, and the narrator is thus haunted by it. Instead of trying to reconcile his desire with what his conscience knows is right, he chooses to destroy it. In Islamic culture, those who possess the evil eye have the power to harm people or their possessions just by looking at them. As Gordon said in class, “eye” could be interpreted as “I”. So the narrator is the actual evil in the story. In my opinion, the old man is innocent. The narrator states that the old man as done nothing wrong. I think his intention of murder was based off of hallucinations.  

 

Ketchup

I hear the slam of our screen door which signals that someone has come home. I hear my name being called as mom enters the house. Elizabeth, my cousin, is being called down also. I am reluctant to get up from my warm, comfy bed. I look down to my right and find Elizabeth still asleep on the floor. I prop myself on my elbows, and look outside the window to see the sun shining through. I hear loud thumps as mom ascends upstairs. The familiar urgency in her voice tells me I must go down now.

“Rose!! Elizabeth!! I have something for you!” Mom yells from the kitchen.
“Okay, okay. We’re coming, jeez.” I return.

I nudge my cousin to wake up. Elizabeth’s eyes open immediately as if she has woken up from a nightmare. I tell her we have to go downstairs. She follows me out my bedroom door without any questions.  As we groggily entered the kitchen mom hands us two identical pins. Wrapped in plastic is the American flag with the United States Secret Service badge on it.
“What is this?” I look towards my cousin and see that she is just as confused as I am.
“It is an apology for yesterday. Think of it as a souvenir…” Mom replies.

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We ran out of ketchup. I checked the fridge twice. Nada. Zip. Zero. Ketchup is the #1 condiment that needs to be in the Valdez household. That red bottle of Heinz Ketchup is nowhere to be found. We were having hot dogs for lunch. I am aware that Chicagoans are not supposed have ketchup on their hot dogs. But oh well, everyone is different. I decided to buy a new bottle at the corner store. I nominated Elizabeth to come along because I did not want to go alone. Before heading out the door I grabbed my wallet and keys.

We were greeted with the blazing sun blinding our eyes. The trees swayed back and forth above us. We could barely see the clear blue sky through the tree leaves and branches. I was surprised by the slight breeze Mother Nature gave us on this summer day. We headed left towards our destination.

“Hey, Elizabeth, check out those cars.” I pointed at the pitch-black SUVs to the right of us.

“Scary… Those men are just sitting there.” She mutters, referring to the bulky men dressed in black suits in the driver and passenger seats.

We reached the end of my block and crossed the intersection at Willow and Orchard.  We noticed people waving the American flag. Parents were keeping an eye on their children as they jumped up and down with excitement. We saw cookies decorated in red, white, and blue. Signs were held above their heads of an influential figure. I glanced at my cousin and she knew exactly what I was thinking. We entered America’s Pantry hearing the “ding” of the bell hanging above us.

“Hello, exciting day isn’t it?” says the cashier with his thick Indian accent.

“Good afternoon,” Elizabeth and I return.
We walked down the reaching the condiments section. I grabbed the biggest bottle of Heinz Ketchup making sure we would not run out of it any time soon. I asked my cousin if she wanted anything else. But she said she was fine. I shrugged and returned to the front of the store to pay. I placed the bottle of ketchup on the cashier’s counter.

“Will that be all? Would you like a bag?” asks the Indian man.

“Yes please,” I say as I get my wallet ready.

“Okay, that will be $4.25.” he says placing the bottle in a thin white plastic bag.

I grabbed a five dollar bill from my wallet and paid.