The Scale- Gothic Story

A word of caution to the reader: many who have heard the story of Lily and Mr. Robinson have not had complete faith in the truthfulness of the story you are about to read. However, I must clarify before I begin that I present you with only the facts of the case, nothing more, nothing less. With that being said, I must put it upon the reader to decide the reliability of the tale that follows.

From the street, it was a house that would not be called out of the ordinary. Beds of yellow and orange marigolds lined the perimeter of the front porch, basking in the sun. A pathway led to the front door, freshly paved, invitingthe world inside. Worn blue shutters bracketed four windows equally spaced on the face of the house. The front door was painted a rusty red that complemented the fading cornflower blue shutters. The house was surrounded by homes of the same cheerful character. The backyard was spacious, containing a flower garden that hugged the fence. However, unlike the rest of the house, the backyard was strangely blemished. Toward the back of the lawn the ground was bumpy and raw. Exposed dirt was scattered over the area. Patches of dead grass laid limply in the yard. Although this was unusual in contrast to the upkeep of the rest of the house, this patch of upset earth was usually overlooked by neighbors who could see it.The house seemed quaint and harmless, however it guarded a dark secret.

The summer that Lily came to visit Mr. Robinson, an eerie gloom hung over the town. It was the middle of summer when she arrived. A persistent spell of bad weather blanketed the town with an unsettling heaviness. Being her only relative, Lily was sent to stay that week with Mr. Robinson while her parents celebrated their anniversary abroad. Lily, being reserved in nature, did not mind having a week to read and rest and planned to keep to herself. Mr. Robinson, a man of few words, did not care much for hosting the girl and kept his distance. Their lack of familial feeling even extended to the fact that Lily always addressed her uncle as “Mr. Robinson.”

After composing his own music, Mr. Robinson often played his songs for the rest of the day, stopping only to catch a bite to eat. The melancholy music would drift through the house filling the empty space with the sad melody of the song. Although unnerving at first, Lily began to anticipate the maudlin music, and it ceased to affect her. When Mr. Robinson was not working on his music, he would be out in the yard, working in his garden. Lily often saw him from her window working with a shovel, digging up the yard. He told her in their infrequent conversations during dinner that he was making room for a new garden.

Their solitude was unbroken. There were no visitors- except for a couple of times, when a gaunt, sallow man arrived at the back door. It appeared that Mr. Robinson had anticipated his arrivals because Mr. Robinson would be waiting at the door with money in hand. The sickly looking man would deliver a package, wrapped in white waxy paper. Lily never saw the contents of the packages, or the packages themselves again.

On the seventh day of her visit, the clouds hung low in the sky, casting a dark shadow over the abode. The overcast skies had darkened the atmosphere within the house as well. A muggy heat had settled in, making outside activities almost unbearable. Throughout the week, Lily and Mr. Robinson had kept their interactions and conversations short. However, on this day, Lily became restless, as many tend to do in such dismal weather. So, as the weather confined them to the house, Lily searched for a distraction.

“Mr. Robinson, perhaps you have a deck of cards?” asked Lily.

“No cards.” He grunted. “I keep no games within the house. There is no time for games.”

With that, he returned to the den to play his disconsolate music. As the sound of the ever-present ballads filled the stuffy air, Lily frowned. Defeated, she wandered back to her room in search of entertainment. As she walked down the hallway leading to her room, she noticed a door that had been overlooked during her stay in the house. Curious and bored, she approached the door, pausing to listen for the music coming from downstairs. She could still hear the mournful sounds, so she decided to explore what was behind the door. When she twisted the knob, the door effortlessly swung open. It led to a small room with an old wooden staircase at the farthest end. Surprised by the discovery of a third floor in the house, Lily traveled up the stairs. Each step made a creak louder than the last. The temperature rose within the confined passage, escalating with each stair. At the top of the staircase, there was a hatch door. Lily decided it had to be an attic. Hoping to find family mementos and fill the long afternoon by sorting through them, Lily pushed up on the hatch door.

With a drawn out creak the hatch opened, giving way to a gust of stale, sweltering air. Taken by surprise, Lily stumbled backwards as her foot caught on the last stair. She gripped the walls as her heart raced, catching herself from falling down the staircase. With a deep breath and a new determination, she got back on her feet and hoisted herself up through the hatch door into the darkness. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she noticed a small, circular window through which an opaque light shined into the room. The dank room was drenched in a musty smell of aged air. Cobwebs clung to the walls, and filled the corners of the room. Dust particles danced in circles, creating a cloudy haze. The music heard form downstairs became faint, yet was still present. Spacious, the room held many indiscernible objects covered by sheets of fabric. Leaning against the wall were a group of paintings showing a beast covered in blood, ripping out the heart of a meager human. Shuddering, Lily turned away from the image. As she scanned the room for family relics, a strange object caught her eye.

The floorboards squeaked to a high pitched tune as Lily approached the mysterious object. Within five feet of the item, an unstable floorboard broke loose, tumbling to the floor underneath. The clamor startled Lily, making her jump back in surprise. Lily peered curiously down through the hole left by the missing board, catching a glimpse of a room beneath the attic. The room, like the attic, was dimly lit, containing only a single armchair, resting in the corner. Focusing her attention back onto the object, Lily sidestepped the hole, advancing toward it. She soon realized that what had caught her eye was the shine of an ancient balance scale. It was placed in the middle of the attic, on the floor as if it had been recently used. It had a bronze finish that shone even in the cloudy light of the attic. Suspended on either side of a horizontal beam hung two round weighing pans, slightly depressed toward the middle. To secure a closer look, Lily lifted the scale. It took two hands to raise for it was surprisingly heavy. As her hand grazed the bottom of the left pan, she felt a drip of liquid. She instantly pulled back, staring down at her hand. To her amazement, she saw what she thought was blood. She couldn’t be sure because of the murky light, but she was almost positive. Lifting the scale and peering inside, she discovered, to her horror that a pool of blood had gathered in the depression of the pan. She was now sure it was blood. Lowering the scale, she noticed something she had not before. A dried pool of blood lay at the bottom of the impression in the right pan. Lily gasped, but before she could move, a voice called from below.

“Hey! What are you doing up there!” barked Mr. Robinson.

Lily had been so engaged in the discovery of the scale that when the music coming from downstairs had stopped, she had not noticed it.

“I-I-There’s blood!” Lily squeaked.

Slowly approaching the hole in the floor Lily looked down to find Mr. Robinson gazing up the hole, with a wicked smile on his face.

“Blood!”he exclaimed, with a threatening smirk. “My favorite! Come, child, join me in a feast. I’ll cook us the human hearts that I weigh with the scale you are holding! That scale tells me which heart is heaviest and, therefore the best tasting. As for the lighter ones, they will be buried in the yard, along with the others.”

Throwing his head back, Mr. Robinson let out a low chuckle, raising goosebumps on Lily’s body. In a state of shock, Lily took a step back onto the edge of the hole. The floor creaked and moaned and then buckled. Unable to hold on to the scale, which was now slick with blood, Lily fell to her death. She landed alongside Mr. Robinson who sprawled beside her in his own mortal state, crushed by the weight of the ancient balance scale.

Poe Essay

Edgar Allen Poe’s appeal to death is expressed many times throughout the works of his short stories. Death frequently becomes a focal point in many of these narrations. His fascination with the allure of death is presented in multiple works and in such a way that he is often accused of being obsessed with this theme. Using literary devices and gothic elements he illustrates death and incorporates the bleak theme into his stories. Whether death plays a prominent role in his stories, or is hinted throughout, it never fails to be present, confirming him to be obsessed with death.

            Poe exposes the fear of death, and the lengths to which one would go to prevent it. The outcome after a character tries to avoid death was always far worse than a natural death itself. Poe reveals throughout these stories that death is an inevitable end to life. He tries to show that death eventually becomes the fate of all humans, and cannot be escaped. In the short story “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar” Poe combines the fear of death with the attempt to postpone a natural departure. Mr. P mesmerizes a willing patient, M. Valdemar on the cusp of death. After months spent in the mesmerized state M. Valdermar desperately cries out, “For God’s sake! -- quick! --quick! -- put me to sleep -- or, quick! -- waken me! -- quick! -- I say to you that I am dead” (Poe, “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar”)! This quote shows that M. Valdermar was being tortured in this mesmerized state, for months on end. He had first agreed to be mesmerized as an attempt to postpone death. He is driven by the fear of death, however Poe tires to show that death is inevitable despite attempts to prevent it. In the end the experiment fails to prevent his death and ultimately caused more suffering than would have an anticipated death. In this mesmerized state M. Valdermar realizes that this fate is not much better than death itself, and begs to be put to sleep. In response to his pleads Mr. P tries to go against nature and awaken M. Valdermar only for him to be demolished to a pile of rotting liquid. Thus proving that death is inescapable and furthermore, displaying Poe’s attraction to death.

Similar to the themes relating to death in “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar”, Poe exposes human desire to avoid death in “The Masque of Red Death”. He also describes the relationship between life, death, and time. Prince Prospero secludes himself and his royal friends from the outside world to avoid the deathly plague. However, on the night of a grand masked ball a gaunt and menacing stranger appears in the crowd, haunting the guests. The last paragraph of the story concludes, “And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revelers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay” (Poe, “The Masque of Red Death”). Poe’s intent was to show that despite the efforts to avoid death, death is dominant to all. Symbolism is used when Poe represents death and the plague through the masked man. Death entered the castle despite Prince Prospero’s precautions, emphasizing that death controls life. Death could strike at any given moment, and one would fall powerless to its outcome. The ebony clock represents time that is slowly slipping away. Poe relates limited time to death. Similar to how life must answer to death, death must answer to time. Time controls when death strikes. “The Masque of Red Death” solely focuses on the relationships between the fear of death, life and death, and time and death.

In “The Oval Portrait” Poe illustrates the false sense of eternal life and the reality of death. An unnamed painter becomes obsessed with capturing the perfect image of his beautiful, young wife. As his obsession develops his wife grows older, coming closer to death each day. When he finishes his painting the story concludes, “And then the brush was given, and then the tint was placed; and, for one moment, the painter stood entranced before the work which he had wrought; but in the next, while he yet gazed, he grew tremulous and very pallid, and aghast, and crying with a loud voice, ‘This is indeed Life itself!’ turned suddenly to regard his beloved: -- She was dead” (Poe, “The Oval Portrait”)! This relates to the concept of restricted time and the moment of death. As the man obsesses over the eternal beauty caught in the painting, he fails to see his wife withering away before him. Because of the painter’s obsession to capture his wife at her peak, he does not see her grow old and lose the luster she once had. As the wife becomes weak and pale from age, it shows that even beauty dies. Poe shows that beauty itself has an expiration date. The painter pays the cost of losing his beloved wife, for the image of eternal beauty. The death of beauty is subtly hinted while the death of the wife is plainly stated.

            Poe closely relates madness and death in “The Fall of the House of Usher”. The fear of death ultimately kills the main character, Roderick. After burying Madeline, his cataleptic twin sister, he realizes that he has buried her alive. Stricken with fear, he becomes anxious and distressed quickly losing his sensibility. Poe establishes a mood that relays a sense of gloom perceived with death. “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” (Poe, “The Fall of the House of Usher”). Roderick feared the return of his sister, and when she came back, he dropped dead from the terrors of what he had done. Poe uses symbolism between the house and the family. The title of the story, “The fall of the House of Usher” represents not only the death of the physical house, but also the death of the family. With the death of Roderick and Madeline came the death or fall of the house. The foundation of the family became rotted as did the foundation of the house. Death was at the center of the story, proving that Poe was obsessed with writing about death.

            In “The Premature Burial” Poe manipulates human fears. A premature burial is a recurring theme throughout many of his works. However this is not a farfetched idea. During the time that these stories were written premature burials were not unheard of. Poe used the fear of burial before death to construct haunting tales. The narrator, a cataleptic exclaims, “My nerves became thoroughly unstrung, and I fell a prey to perpetual horror” (Poe, “The Premature Burial”). Poe exploits the fear of death throughout the story. The narrator becomes a victim to his own fears and nightmares of death. He is haunted by the possibility of being buried alive and submits to his fears. He destroys himself with the fear of a premature burial, and is confined to live a restricted life. In a sense, the narrator cannot live life because the fear of death looms, giving the title a second meaning.  At the end of the story the narrator realizes that he must not become crippled with the fear of death, but rather enjoy life until death. Although the narrator does not die at the end of the story, the story centers solely on the fear of death.

            Poe’s obsession with death is shown through the works of “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar”, “The Masque of Red Death”, The Oval Portrait”, “The Fall of the House of Usher”, and “The Premature Burial.” Death is a recurring theme within Poe’s short stories. It can be symbolized and covered or blatantly obvious. Either way, Poe expresses his fascination with death. He often relates to the overwrought emotion of fear. Many can relate to fearing death, allowing Poe to connect with his audience. Poe’s obvious obsession with death can be found in the works of his short stories—death being an underlying theme.

Bibliography

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

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

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar." Poestories.com. Web. 12 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/pit>.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Oval Portrait." Poestories.com. Web. 13 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/pit>.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Premature Burial." Poestories.com. Web. 13 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/premature>.

"Poe’s Short Stories." SparkNotes. SparkNotes. Web. 13 Mar. 2012. <http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/poestories/context.html>

"Poe's Short Stories Themes." GradeSaver. GradeSaver LLC. Web. 14 Mar. 2012. <http://www.gradesaver.com/poes-short-stories/study-guide/major-themes/>.

"Poe's Short Stories Summary and Analysis." GradeSaver. GradeSaver LLC. Web. 14 Mar. 2012. <http://www.gradesaver.com/poes-short-stories/study-guide/section11/>.

Faust Legend

 In a spacious room of a quaint house in Grosse Pointe Michigan one could find Emily Richardson, most likely peering at her reflection in the mirror. For sixteen years Emily had been coddled and admired by family and friends. Since birth adults would woo over the young infant picturing the beauty the child would become. As she grew up eyes do not stray far from the breathtaking beauty. Her hair, a warm chestnut brown tumbled down her back and lied just above her waist. Her piercing sea-foam blue eyes were chilling. Emily was not oblivious to the admiration; in fact some say she, herself, was the biggest admirer. Emily yearned for the attention and was only satisfied after the compliments of another. She could spend hours admiring her reflection in the mirror yet never be fully satisfied. She always craved more beauty to treasure. She lived a wonderful life, as a child with two loving parents, growing up in a beautiful and safe community. However, this was never quite enough to satisfy Emily, rarely anything was.

The real story begins on a still August day.  A sticky heat hung in the air and a murky haze surrounded the town like a blanket engulfing the sunshine. The weather came suddenly and without much warning however the people of Grosse Pointe just shook their heads and blamed Mother Nature. It was 11^th grade registration day at Grosse Pointe South. After spending some time focusing on her appearance Emily headed to the school. Her hair was pulled back by the Ray-bans resting on her head and on her feet she wore the newest Tory Burch flip flops. As she approached the sign up desk in Cleminson Hall she spotted her best friend Victoria. Before greeting her Emily made sure Victoria was not dressed better than her, and only after she was completely satisfied that she was still prettier did she embrace her. The two friends spent their time showing off their newest possessions and judging the girls who walked past. As Victoria was showing off her new iPhone Emily made a snarky comment on a girl’s beach blonde hair, which she secretly envied. Emily was taken aback when Victoria stuck up for the girl whom she had befriended over the summer. People rarely disagreed with Emily and feeling betrayed she stormed away. To avoid talking to whom Emily referred to as the desperate she stomped up the ancient spiral staircase in Cleminson Hall. Once she reached the top she inhaled slowly and reminded herself that Victoria could never be as pretty as her, providing some comfort. Right before stepping down Emily noticed a door to her left that she had not seen before. Tempted to go inside Emily opened the door which lead to a dim lit room that matched the grand and elegant look of Cleminson Hall. Next to the light in the corner sat a figure wrapped in a black cape. Believing this whole set up to be a practical joke Emily had no fear of approaching closer. She noticed that the figure carried a shovel in his left hand.

“Ha-Ha.” mocked Emily.

But when the man looked up Emily gasped for a pair of beaming red eyes looked straight back into hers. Transfixed, Emily was not afraid as she was interested. As she studied this character closer she noticed that his skin was grimy with dirt, which seemed to be permanently embedded in. His jet black hair hung to his shoulders and he wore a red sash that matched his eyes.

“I can make you happy Emily, you know I can, for you know exactly who I am, the man from below.” he beckoned.

“Hm, and what can you do for me?” questioned Emily, intrigued but not quite certain.

“I can give you all the beauty in the world Emily; you would never have to compare yourself to anyone ever again. I could make you so beautiful that you would have a thousand guys at your feet and a thousand girls worshiping you. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted Emily? And all you have to give me in return is you soul. A equal exchange for the pleasure I am giving you.”

Emily imagined what life would be like. The power and pleasure she would get from such beauty. She pictured herself stopping heads wherever she went. The gaping stares she would receive from her peers. Without a second thought she was convinced that that is what she wanted.

“I’ll do it. But how do I know your telling the truth?” she questioned.

The man in black simply pointed to a rat scurrying by her feet, and then next to a rat on the other side of her, laying dead on its back.

“That rat is a soul that I have helped before, looks quite plump and content doesn’t it?” the man asked with a sinister smile. “The other, well it was not so lucky. I am giving you a great opportunity Emily, for all the beauty in the world, what do you say?”

Without hesitation Emily replied with a firm “Yes.”

In a daze Emily opened her eyes and saw herself at the base of the spiral staircase. She questioned all that just happened in that dark room. That is until she looked around her. She noticed that everyone in Cleminson Hall looked haggard and worn. As she rushed to the bathroom and stared at herself through the reflection she noticed that none of her features had changed. She quickly realized that she was not changed; only the people around her were. Stepping out of the bathroom she saw the hall full of her classmates now looking distressed and scraggly.

“No!” she cried out. “Devil take me now if this is what I asked for!” she screeched.

A door slammed and a gush of wind blew in a dark figure wrapped in a black cape. Emily Richardson gasped for the last time before being swept into the arms of the Devil and never to be seen again. For that is exactly what Emily asked for. And if one was ever again to find that dim light room at the top of the spiral staircase, there would be one less content, plump rat and in its place a lifeless creature, dead on its back.