I Am Not Mad

Miscellaneous Story: This is purely a work of fiction and in no way does this writing accurately reflect anything the writer has done, thought about doing, is going to do, or what they think about. This is simply writing something that I do not write often. I would love feedback to all who may read it. Inspired by The Tell Tale Heart by Edgar Allen Poe.

Truly there is nothing I love more than the sweet sound of silence. In this day and age it can be quite hard to find it as with the growth of technology, everything gets louder and louder to the point that I can’t hear. You ask me why I did what I did? Allow me to explain the story from the beginning for starting at the end is a mad man’s role…

I simply lay in bed at my home, the sun was going down and the Moon was taking it’s rightful place amongst the heavens as the most beautiful thing that could be and with her came a blissful silence that is hard to find during the day. And then the silence was broken with the ringing of my doorbell, the sound sending a deafening tingle down my spine and an uncomfortable ache in the pit of my stomach. When I answered the door, I saw my sister. A fair skinned woman, hair red as fire and eyed a hazeled color with freckles on her face much like my own. She walked in holding her child that cried an ear splitting cry that tore apart the precious flow of my quiet home, like a rock falling into a mirror still pond and disrupting the beauty it gave. She turned to me, eyes watering and tired with heavy bags underneath them and a look of absolute misery filling them.

“This baby! Oh Gods this baby! I know not what to do! He cries and cries and cries and I have done everything I possibly could but there is nothing I can do to keep him quiet! I need your help. Please hold him while I sleep. Just for a moment. When morning comes I shall leave and you will not have to deal with him again. Please sister!” She pleaded with me, nearly falling to her knees and bursting into tears, the baby still crying. Against my better judgement, I helped her and took the baby into my room and lay him down in the small crib my sister had brought. She slept in the living room much a baby would… and this one should. But he didn’t. He wailed and moaned and groaned and cried and hollered for something but I did not know what. It broke my piece. I tried to give it food but it did not take any. I tried to give it toys but it would not take them. I tried much but each time I did, I grew angrier and angrier. I didn’t know what to do. I finally sat down and stared at the child’s crib, simply pondering what to do. My sister remained asleep in the room nearby, not a single thing capable of waking her. Lucky bitch. Leaving me to care for her brat of a child. I felt a great amount of anger surge in my heart, More than I had ever thought possible. And all of it was directed at this god forsaken child who wouldn’t shut up! I grabbed the pillow and covered my ears but the crying grew louder. How? How?! Impossible! How could this baby be so loud?!

I ran up to the crib and stared down at the squealing pig with humans skin. This creature was no human as no human could cry as loud and as long as this creature did. I looked the pig dead still in the eyes, staring intense daggers at the wretched crying beast. The longer I did so the quieter it seemed to grow. If looks could kill, this child would be nothing more than a bloody stain of sinew and bones lay strewn across the crib. There would be no baby. That is how furious I had grown with this creature. He looked back at me with eyes red from crying so long and hard, his voice growing hoarse and sore, coughing and looking at me with abundant fear. I still held the pillow in my hand and the baby slowly began to cry again.

No. No no no not again! No more crying! Enough crying!

I took the pillow and instead of placing over my ears, which I knew would not work, I instead placed it over the mouth of the pig, his cries now muffled. But only slightly as he cried even louder and seemed to overpower the pillow over his face. So I held it tighter, pushing more force downward and pushing him closer and closer to silence. Yes. Silence. The thing I craved most after dealing with this child. I felt time slow down for me. I felt the very essence of life pass by as I stayed so perfectly still. I closed my eyes, pleading for silence once more, my ears acting like a sonar. With every brief muffle I felt a tingle run down my spine and drive me wild. A ping echo in my head and remind me that there was still a great amount of noise. This child wouldn’t shut up. He wouldn’t. Be. QUIET. I held the pillow tighter, the pinging noise in my head growing softer and softer, the tingle of my spine less and less intense. Soon it all disappeared. Everything. All the noise, all the worries, all the frustration. It was all gone. I lessened my hold on the pillow and let out a sigh of relief as there was nothing more than true silence that filled the room. I had never felt to happy in my entire life. A dull ache formed at the base of my chest however, a strong feeling chipping away at the boundaries of heart. I did my best to ignore it before curling up in bed and sleeping until morning.

When the light of the morning had finally come, I felt worse than I thought imaginable. I had thought after finally having silence, I would be able to sleep silently and cast away the emotions I felt the night before. But no. Instead I simply felt an emptiness crawl into my heart. A cruel distant thumping that tore my soul asunder. I am not mad. I just… I hear things better than most. When my sister awoke she had walked into the room and thanked me for caring for her little pig - I mean son. She thanked me for taking care of her son. She walked over to his crib and smiled at how silently he slept, how peacefully he looked. She slowly stroked his cheek and then leaned down and kissed where she touched.

“Wouldn’t want him to wake up again, would we?” No. No we wouldn’t. My sister returned to the living room and had begun to make breakfast for all of us. I joined her and we talked about simple things. How life was. We spoke about current events such as weather and politics and people in general, we rambled into nearly every subject we could think of. But just then, in the midst of the laughing between the both of us, there was a cry. My spine tingled once more and I looked towards the source.

‘No! It can’t be!’ I thought to myself and I turned towards my sister quickly, eyes constantly searching back and forth as if watching a fly buzz around the room.

“Did you hear that?” I asked her but she shook her head and asked what I heard. For the life of me I could not bring myself to describe what it was. I knew what it was and speaking of it now is easy: A child’s cry. But for some reason I could not bring myself to even mention it to her. As if my own tongue turned against me and tied itself into a thousand knots so no words could be uttered. I shook my head and put on a smile, feigning happiness so I wouldn’t worry her. That noise though lingered in the back of my mind and made my heart race a thousand beats a minute. I am not mad. I just… Think harder about things that happen. My sister continued onward on her conversation and I listened to her speak, studying the movements of her lips intently to try and occupy my mind with something - ANYTHING that would pull me away from the thoughts of…. Of…

The baby’s crying again. The wretched little pig I had to spend hours with now mocks me in his carriage, crying and screaming louder than he did when life filled his lungs and blood filled his veins. I heard it grow in intensity but did my best to ignore, Oh I tried but it was like a battering ram shoving itself into the confines of the castle that was my mind. It held up the first few times but the longer I went without doing something, the closer and closer the noise got to fucking with me. And it would not stop. It just. Wouldn’t. Stop. My sister continued talking about… whatever the fuck she was talking about. I don’t even know anymore. I couldn’t hear her over the incessant whimpering of the child in the room next door. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t think straight. I could barely breathe right. My sister looked at me as if i was mad and touched my arm to comfort me.

“I’m not mad!!!” I screamed. I am not mad. I am not mad. I swear I am not mad. I just…. I just… I’m not mad! I looked my sister dead in the eyes and for brief moments saw peace which turned into violent anger and malice. I felt her arms wrap around my neck. I heard her scream a word to me. Was it one word several times? Or was it several words made to sound like one? I don’t know but she continued to scream it. With every opening of her mouth, she was followed by the screams of a child and the whispers of thousands. The more I heard the word the more I began to weaken.

“Confess… Confess Confess! CONFESS!!!” They shouted so loud that I swear I had gone deaf! I swear my heart could not take the intensity of this and would give out any second! I felt the world around me go dark! I felt…

“I confess! Yes! It was ME! I killed the child who still lay in his cold carriage in my room! I did not mean to! He was just so loud! I shoved a pillow in his face a suffocated him! He has been lifeless since last night! His cries! Oh god his cries! DO not kill me sister! I swear it was only an accident!!!”

And so is the end of my tale. I lay on the ground, a frothing, retching, disgusting heap of sweat and tears until the police arrived and carried me off. It was around the time you all arrived that I realized she hadn’t lay a hand on me. Everything I heard was simply… In my own head. At least that’s what I would say if I were mad. I am not mad… I am just… I… I am not mad. I am not mad. I. Am not. Mad…….. Am I?