Edgar Allen Poe Parody

“Pain cannot be felt,

Nor songs sung,

Nor eyes opened,

Till the tempest settles,

And the wren is at rest.”

A scream first, then a laugh, then the plodding of feet along a cold dark floor. She rehearsed in her head over and over again. The scream came first, then the laugh and then the footsteps. She was hiding in her parents walk in closet, in the far back corner being as silent as she could possibly ever be. She tried to distract herself from the fact that there was quite clearly someone in her house. She tried to take in every element of the dark walk in. she began to count every single thing hanging in the closet. 66 individual shoes, 33 pairs, 12 pairs were high heels, the rest were flats, 13 coats, 7 dresses, 3 skirts. She began to feel the objects closest to her. She couldn’t see their color due to the darkness, but she could feel their texture. One was a soft, silky dress that ran all the way to the ground, another was velvet and one was plain cotton.

An ominous thought, almost unnoticed slipped into her mind. She was doing a good job distracting herself…from the person in her house. She instantly remembered why she was constantly counting coats and shoes and dresses and things of the like. There was someone in her house, a person with bad intentions, most probably trying to cover up whatever crime they had committed. Her mind was once again racing, imagining all the things that may have just happened. It was as if her mind was fighting itself. It could’ve just been a break in, she thought. But then what about the scream? Who screams when they break into a house? This internal discourse continued until she concluded it could not be a break in. Well maybe mom cut her hand on some glass and then laughed at herself foolishly and went to get a bandaid. Yes, that must be it! She concluded that of course that was what had happened, and then decided to leave the closet.

Still a bit shaken up, and with a bleak countenance, it took her a minute to be able to get up and reach to open the door. She reached and felt the cold brass doorknob send a chill throughout her body. Again, a small barely noticeable thought slipped into her head. Don’t open that door! At first she just thought she was thinking it, but soon questioned why the thought did not sound like herself in her head, but rather, the voice of a happy young mother simply telling her daughter not to open the door to the hot, dangerous oven. She convinced herself that spending time in a dark closet had made her crazy and that she was just imagining things, she again reached for the door, grabbed the knob and felt a chill. She concluded to never mind the chill and turn the knob anyway. She turned the knob and heard a click, but the door did not open. She turned it again, CLICK! And it didn’t open. CLICK CLICK CLICK! The door would not open. She panicked and started banging on the door. Still convinced that her mom had simply cut herself on some glass, she screamed, “MOM! THE DOOR WON’T OPEN!” To her bewilderment, she heard a reply in the voice of the happy young mother she had heard in her head, except even more incredulously, it was out loud. “Good job! You’re right! It won’t!” She was astonished. She did not comprehend what was happening or who was outside the door or why she couldn’t get out of the closet or why she’d heard a scream. What is going on?! She thought. And again, she heard the voice of the mother, but this time it was in her head again. Well, you’re stuck in a closet you foolish, impotent child! This time the voice still sounded happy but had a creepy, cold chill to it. She was confused and a feeling of impending doom pervaded every thought she thought and every feeling she felt. This time she absolutely lost it and began screaming. She began to scream, but was astonished when nothing came out. She tried again, desperately trying to get her voice to make a noise, any noise. But nothing came out. Not even a tiny little whisper of air. Nothing.

Her heart raced as she thought about her situation. Frightened, she realized, she was a murderers dream. She had absolutely no way to defend herself. She couldn't scream or escape. It was at this point that she gave up completely. She succumbed to the disparaging thoughts and feelings, and sat down, preparing herself for her inevitable death. Little did she know, she was not going to die. She was actually in the process of getting out of the closet.

She sat in the closet, terrified and crying, although completely silent. She eventually must have fallen asleep, because she remembered waking up. When she arose, she was laying in her bed, with her mom standing over her. Her body became immediately stiff as she realized that this was the exact scene from earlier in the day. She was no longer in the closet, but reliving her day. She was almost more terrified than before. She thought at this point that nothing could get worse. She didn't even know what to do with herself. “Mom, could you leave for a second?” she asked her mother, trying to sound sane. “Sure...” she replied, cautiously.

Once she was alone, she spoke to herself, just saying simple things, to make sure that she could speak. Then she decided she must have just been dreaming, and tried to ignore the fact that the day was proceeding exactly the same as before. She walked out of the room, and proceeded to the closet. She was careful to leave the door open. She inspected it, counting all the things in it, to see if it all matched up. It did. She turned around to leave, and the door was closed. NO. NOOOOOO. She thought. THIS IS NOT HAPPENING RIGHT NOW. She panicked once again and immediately became so overwhelmed with stress, that she passed out on the floor of the closet.

Whilst in her passed out delirium, she heard the voice of the mother. See? I saved you! That man would've come into the closet and killed you if I hadn't locked you in there! She was utterly confused. She did not know what was going on. All of the sudden, the woman appeared in front of her. She smiled and said, “I'll help you sweetie.” and then the woman, so innocent looking and slightly creepy, clubbed her in the head with a bat, and she fell unconscious even in her already unconscious state.

It was at this point that she awoke again. And she was just laying there on her bed. Until something started shaking her. And she heard a voice. “Nadia. Nadia...we are leaving in 20 minutes! Get up!” She awoke, and stared at her mother who was just leaving her room as she saw her. It hit her all at once. It was all just a dream. The whole thing. She didn't know how to feel. She was relieved that none of her worries were real, and incredibly filled with joy, knowing that none of it ever happened. It was just a figment of her imagination. And then she remembered. I wasn't completely a figment of her imagination, it was real. Sort of. She'd had the same dream every night for 16 years, and every night gone through the same horrifying experiences. And every morning woken up with the same feeling. This is why she had a sign above her bed that read, “None of it is real. That was all a dream and you are awake now. This is real.” She read this, and got out of her bed, and went about her day as normal.