kiwusek
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 Posted: Sun Nov 18, 2007 10:28 pm Post subject: Short Story I wrote for english |
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We had an english assignment for which we had to write a short story in the style of Poe (I found a million reasons why it is wrong, the assignment I mean). Well tell me what you think as I have yet to submit it and if you can spot out grammar errors or missing words or just a general critique! Cheers and hope you enjoy!
MURDEROUS WIT
I am not insane. They all doubt me well let me tell you that I am not. I posess an abnormal wit and none of them can ever possibly outwit me. Who do they think they are? Even my friend, my confident, one that I had known since childhood dared to doubt my prowess. I shall tell the tale how it was. I tell you it was trickery! That is why I am here – a prisoner! What am I saying? Ah yes, their trickery is to blame for my misfortune. You see their sharp tongues wove lies around me, yes lies, it is not my fault that they knew. It is not my fault that they found out! As I was saying; it all began when I meet my dear confident at the local tavern.
I said to him: “You see my dear old friend that there is no one and I mean no one that even has the slightest chance of outwitting me!”
“Of course, I have not yet heard of wittier man then you,” responded my drinking companion with sarcasm infiltrating his voice.
“You do not believe me? Where is the trust that we have had since childhood in the days where life was easy?” I inquired.
“You have had way too many drinks. You are beginning to become drunk! It is even evident in what you say! You being witty? My friend; for as long as I have known you that is by far the grandest joke you have told!”
“I see how it is now! You don’t believe me. Well let me tell you a short story of my prowess. Certainly you shall be amazed.” I hastily responded not knowing where this will lead to.
“Very well lets hear it,” he responded now turning towards another friend he whispered; “Maybe in his drunken stupor he may sound of some intelligence!”
A roar of laughter erupted throughout the tavern that shook it to its foundations. I looked around and now everyone had turned their cold gazes to me. I cleared my throat. Stood up and began slowly acquiring more rage as I went on.
“Do you know the Mr. Duncan?”
“Aye!” they responded in chorus.
“Well he is dead! Dead! I tell you dead! And I know very well how he is dead. That conniving Duncan had forced onto me thousands of injuries that I endured through many years. I needed vengeance. The desire tore me from the inside. I thought of myself as a madman. ‘NO’ I said to myself, ‘I am not a madman I am a person in need of vengeance’. Oh sweet vengeance! I met him outside his house; as usual he was going to the social meeting at the Club. Dressed in the regular attire of an aristocrat complete with arrogance. I pretending to be a lantern boy, giving light to the nobles’ paths and receiving little pay, came up to him. He asked me if I could lead him to the Club as it was already dark and the way was foggy in his mind from the alcohol he had drunk. I, with vengeance in my mind, readily accepted his need of my services. I lit my lantern and prepared to lead him through the maze of streets that London is.
A sharp turn here, a sharp turn there. I led the fool blindly in the maze. Another sharp turn. He begged for a rest and I being the reasonable man that I let him catch his breath. Though I did urge him to continue. I said: ‘Sir, we must be on our way or the meeting at the Club will be over before you even get to the doorway.’ He nodded in agreement took one deep breath and continued. Turning around and seeing his intoxication slowly wear off I offered him a drink and he accepted it readily noting what a kind lad I was.
It wasn’t long before we reached an old abandoned cemetery not far from my house. Darkness. Cold. Ah, never mind how it was outside! Well there was a little fog hanging in the air but nothing different from the usual London weather. As I was saying, I led him to the graveyard and promptly put out my torch. To him I said that my light has gone out and that I need to light it a new but first some lamp oil is needed! We fumbled in the darkness. Well he did, I knew exactly where I was to go. Upon reaching the spot I lit my torch again.
Seizing him by the collar of his shirt and threw him to the ground. I then grabbed him by the back of the head and lifted it while shinning a light unto the tombstone. It had my mother’s name written unto it. He let out a ghastly scream as I picked up a shovel and knocked him out. I took the shovel and moved his body far away from that spot and I began to dig a grave for him.
He awoke as I was finishing off the hole. I had used some rope that was lying under the great oak tree in order to bind him. Being immobile but free to speak he asked me what that grave was for. I responded with a short laugh and continued digging. When I finished I clambered out of the whole and kicked him into.
He repeated his question again this time asking me who I was. I felt compelled to tell him my identity. I jumped back down into the hole with him. Bending over him I whispered into his ear my name. Again, it was becoming tiresome and downright boring, he let out another ghastly scream. I yawned and got out of the grave – again. Such repetitive work.
I savoured the moment when I was filling up the Duncan’s grave, each shovel load was a part of freedom returning. By sunrise in the morning I had finished the work of the night and now a few days later I celebrate with you my accomplishments!”
The crowd by now was silent.
“Aye that is all good and all, but I can’t see yer wit in any of this!” a drunk asked me.
“My wit, you ask? When the police were searching for the missing Duncan I offered myself as a witness to the disappearance. I aided the police in trying to find where Duncan was and they have not even the slightest suspicion that it was me! Yes I am a very witty man. I will let myself bask in your adoration. But even with my help they were not able to find out what happened to the fellow I even led them to the graveyard. Yes the very same graveyard in which I buried him. Aren’t I such a witty man, my dear friend! And you had the audacity to doubt it? Tsk tsk!”
A man had left the tavern in a hurry and came back a few minutes later followed by the police.
Pointing at me he shouted: “There he is! There is the one who killed Mr. Duncan!”
With that they seized me and took me away. How was this possible I am far too superior for this! This is not right!
“Well now I was right, you don’t have any wit! And you will never have any you fool!” my own drinking companion, my confident had betrayed me! He spun those lies of the murder. I swear to you I know nothing about it! I am and INNOCENT MAN! I am not insane.
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