“TALE OF A MAD MAN” by Rachel L. Umstead A Short Film Adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart
FADE IN: INT. INSIDE MODERN-DAY POLICE DEPARTMENT OF WHITE FALLS, MAINE – NIGHT DETECTIVE MARK JONES sits at his desk, looking out the window as rain starts to fall in the gloomy night. He sighs, somewhat frustrated. DET. JONES (in a bored voice) Nothing ever happens here. DETECTIVE ROGER SMITH, JONES’ partner, looks up from his computer screen and papers scattered across his desk, his thick-rimmed glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose. DET. SMITH (grunts, clearing his throat) We’re working the graveyard shift. Not exactly party hour. Besides, some, including myself, would consider “nothing” a good thing. JONES stares at SMITH shaking his head.
for
several
seconds
then
laughs,
JONES (smiling slightly) You would. Nothing to interrupt that mundane, hum-drum life of yours here in mundane, hum-drum Maine. SMITH grunts again, turning back to his work. up at JONES. SMITH (frowning, showing wrinkles in his forehead) Don’t go asking for trouble, kid. It’ll hunt you down if you do, and you’ll be sorry.
He glances
JONES (grinning mischievously) I’d like to see it try. THE PHONE rings suddenly, just as lightning illuminates the sky in brilliant white and thunder rattles the windows with a roaring crack. SMITH (not looking up from his work) I won’t say I told you so. JONES looks over at SMITH with a mocking worried expression on his face. EXT. OUTSIDE OLD MAN WHITE’S MANSION DOOR – NIGHT JONES (glancing around at the mansion and its exterior, lets out an impressed whistle) This guy must be loaded. Sheesh. SMITH John Winters is the richest man in all of Maine, and I’d bet in all of the United States at the moment. Supposedly played the stock market a while back and struck big, then retired here afterwards. He grew up in White Falls years ago. JONES AND SMITH lapse into a comfortable silence, each assessing the house. JONES finally breaks the silence. JONES So he lives by himself in this enormous house? Winters must get pretty lonely with no one around.
SMITH Well, he does have one employee who serves as both groundskeeper and personal assistant to him. I think his name is Louis Ulrich or something. Odd sort of fellow, but he’s really polite. Oh, and one other thing… JONES (giving SMITH a questioning look) Well? SMITH It’s just…Winters is an old man, very old. He has this fake eye where he lost one of his own, and it’s a bit disturbing to look at. Just don’t stare when we get inside; it makes him angry. JONES casts a sideways glance at his partner, looking at him curiously. JONES I’ll try my best. You sure do know a lot about this town. SMITH (smiling somewhat sadly) Well, you live here as long as I have, you tend to know everyone. I’m sure you’ll catch on quick once you’ve been settled in awhile. JONES (looking worried) I guess. Adjusting to the quiet life hasn’t been easy yet. SMITH, realizing he somewhat upset JONES, looks at him reassuringly. SMITH I know, I know, nothing ever happens here. You’ll lose that big-city attitude of yours once you see how nice this town can be. Harmless little
place, just what you need after working the tough streets of New York. JONES, impatient, rings the doorbell again just as the heavy oak door creaks open. ULRICH’S face peeks out; seeing the detectives, he pulls the door open the rest of the way and grins. ULRICH Detectives! What brings you to my humble abode on this rainy, dreary night? SMITH clears his throat, taking on the professional demeanor of a police officer. SMITH (consulting his notepad that contained the information from the call) Good evening, Mr. Ulrich. We are out here investigating a disturbance. We received a call at 12:15 AM from a neighbor of yours that a scream came from your house around that time. Can you verify this statement? ULRICH opens his mouth to answer the detective. A gust of wind suddenly slashes through the detectives and into the house, followed quickly by rain coming down in buckets and streaks of white lighting up the dark night sky. ULRICH (shouting to be heard over the storm) Come inside! ULRICH holds the door open for the detectives. SMITH and JONES rush into the mansion as ULRICH quickly shuts the door behind them, the ruckus from the thunderstorm muffled behind the thick oak wood. INT. JUST INSIDE THE DOOR TO THE MANSION - NIGHT
ULRICH Follow me, please, detectives. ULRICH leads the detectives down a large hall past the grand spiral staircase just inside the door. He opens the door to a sitting room being warmed by a blazing, comforting fire in the old stone fireplace in one corner of the room. ULRICH (with much enthusiasm) Please, please, sit. Make yourselves comfortable. JONES Much appreciated, Mr. Ulrich. ULRICH (laughing shrilly) Please, Detective, call me Lou. JONES All right, Lou. Thanks. Now, back to the matter of why we came here in the first place. ULRICH (looking down, avoiding the detectives’ inquisitive stares) Ahh, yes. The scream. I’m quite embarrassed, to be honest. You see, that was my own doing. I seem to have let out a most dreadful howl while I was sleeping. But I am terribly sorry for the disturbance I seem to have caused. JONES (writing on his notepad as Lou talks) I see. And can anyone corroborate your story, Lou? ULRICH (glancing nervously at SMITH)
Detective Smith, as you know, I usually am here attending to the various needs of Mr. Winters. However, unfortunately he is away in the country for a few weeks visiting old friends. So, regrettably, I have no one but myself to account for the scream. JONES and SMITH look at each other, both showing that they are convinced of the legitimacy of ULRICH’S claims. ULRICH, mistaking their look for disbelief and doubt, continues on in a hurried tone. ULRICH Of course, please feel free to search the premises, officers! I know my word alone is not sufficient enough proof, but I assure you that a thorough search of the mansion will yield no surprising or foul results. JONES looks at SMITH again, who shrugs. SMITH (to JONES) You said you were bored. This’ll give us something to do for a bit. Besides, he’s harmless, just like I told you. THEY turn back to ULRICH, who is watching the detectives earnestly. JONES Very well, then, Lou.
Lead the way.
ULRICH stands up and starts out of the room, the detectives following behind him. They turn down the hallway again and start checking rooms one by one. ULRICH There is the study, where Mr. Winters spends most of his days. He cannot really see too well, what with his age and state of his eyes, but he likes to
sit in there at his desk and stare at the books. SMITH steps into the room, with the other two glancing in from the doorway. SMITH Everything appears to be in order here. Onto the next room. The trio head further down the hallway, turning to head to the dining room and kitchen area. ULRICH (starting to speak slightly faster) I’m the only one here to care for the old man. He likes his privacy, but he still needs me to do basic things for him like cook his meals and clean up around the house. Otherwise it gets tremendously dusty in the rooms; most of them are never touched. I sometimes go around and look at the different things Mr. Winters has collected and stored in the house, but I am careful to never touch or disturb anything. This time JONES steps into the room, making note that nothing seems to be amiss or suspicious. JONES I’m sure you’re quite the assistant, Lou. Everything looks good in here. Not a speck of dust in sight. ULRICH Thank you very much, detective. I pride myself on my responsibility and hard work. ULRICH turns to lead the way to the next room, a relieved and triumphant smile slowly forming on his face. The rest of the downstairs rooms are looked through rather quickly, with one of the detectives stepping into the room
and looking around while the other stood guard at the doorway with ULRICH. Soon the three men had made a complete circle of the downstairs and found themselves back at the grand spiral staircase at the front of the house. The storm could still be heard raging outside, with rumbles of thunder shuddering the windows and front door every now and then. ULRICH (sounding quite confident) Well, now that you fine gentlemen have thoroughly examined the downstairs rooms, shall we go upstairs and give it the same search? JONES and SMITH murmur in agreement, allowing themselves to enjoy the tour around the great mansion while the storm kept them from leaving just yet. INT. UPSTAIRS IN THE MANSION - NIGHT ULRICH led the detectives around the upstairs room in the same manner, chatting all the while. One of the rooms they mansion on the second books. There are two chairs, one on either of the cover a horror marking the page.
stop at, way in the back of the floor, is filled with all sorts of neat piles stacked beside one of the side. One heavy book, from the looks novel, is spread open upside-down,
ULRICH This is the library. When I’m done with whatever chores and needs Mr. Winters has, I usually come here to relax a bit for the night. I was actually in here when you gentlemen rang at the door. After waking up from sleep with that scream, I could not possibly go back to bed. A good book is just what I needed to get my mind focused and awake. JONES steps into the room, with SMITH staying back with Lou as usual. He picks up the book laid on the table that Lou had presumably been reading. The page marked where Lou had left off was in the middle of a dreadful story involving
lunatics and murderers, hardly what JONES would want to read to get his mind off of a scream that woke him up. JONES (looking at ULRICH questioningly, holding up the book for him and SMITH to see) Interesting choice in reading materials, Lou. I myself would have chosen a more mild one, but to each his own. ULRICH (laughing shrilly again) Yes, well, I have much affection for the horror stories, I suppose. Shall we continue? JONES steps out of the room, joining the other two, and they proceed to walk down the hall to the last room to search, that of Mr. Winters’ bedroom. ULRICH opens the door for the detectives to move inside first; he follows, turning on the bedside light as the detectives start to look around the room. INT. MR. WINTERS’ BEDROOM – NIGHT ULRICH (a triumphant look in his eyes) Why don’t I procure several chairs from the library? You gentlemen are not going anywhere yet, not with this terrible storm going on outside. We can relax here for a bit and have some polite talk. SMITH I suppose so, Lou. the offer.
Thank you kindly for
ULRICH bows his head to SMITH and exits, turning around the corner and heading back toward the library.
JONES He certainly seems to be telling the truth. I haven’t really noticed anything out of the ordinary. SMITH See? I told you this town’s good. Lou’s as harmless as they come. JONES I suppose. I see what you meant earlier, though. He’s an odd guy. Seems a bit skittish for some reason, and he likes to chat a lot. SMITH What do you expect? He’s holed up in here all day, even when the old man’s not at home, with nobody to talk to really. JONES Yeah, I guess I would get a little talkative too whenever I had real company over. ULRICH reenters the room, carrying three folding chairs under his arms. He places one directly in the center of the room, which he sits on, with the other two facing it for the detectives. ULRICH (waving a hand at the two chairs) Please, sit and rest. You must be tired from wandering around the mansion half the night. SMITH and JONES obey, taking a seat and settling in comfortably. SMITH (glancing around the room curiously) I’ve never actually seen much of Mr. Winters’ house before, much less his room. What are all the items lying around here?
ULRICH Oh, just a few things that Mr. Winters collected on his travels. He didn’t come right back here after striking it rich, you know. He traveled the world until he became older and more fragile; these are some of the things he picked up along the way. A boomerang from Australia over there, some masks from an African tribe on the wall, a painting or two from the European countries. Worthless trinkets, if you ask me, but Mr. Winters kept everything. JONES What about the eye DETECTIVE SMITH told me about? Did he get that in his travels as well? ULRICH (starting to shudder slightly) The eye? Oh, that old thing. Yes, he could have acquired it while roaming the Earth, I suppose. JONES (persisting) What did it look like? I’ve never actually seen Mr. Winters before, and DETECTIVE SMITH here says it is not the most pleasing sight. ULRICH (gulps, then lets out a highpitched laugh) You know, I never really noticed it that much. I just took care of him, that’s all. JONES Oh, all right. He glances out the window beside the canopied bed, the rain still coming down hard against the glass and lightning brightening up the sky every now and then.
JONES It is not letting up out there, is it? Do you get storms like this often around here? SMITH Sometimes. It depends on the season. Usually in the fall like this we don’t, but that’s the weather nowadays for you. Doesn’t know what it’s doing. SMITH and JONES let out a laugh; ULRICH follows with a belated, high-pitched giggle of his own. ULRICH (speaking frantically and increasingly loudly) It’s not so unusual, Detective. A storm’s a storm, nothing to be worried about. Just like there is nothing to be worried about in here, either. SMITH For sure. But a thunderstorm this severe this late in the season is a little weird, if you ask me. JONES (smiling) Something weird, in this town? Let’s go arrest it before it stirs up some excitement! JONES and SMITH start laughing again, enjoying their relaxation and banter. Without warning, ULRICH lurches to his feat, screaming as he stands up. JONES and SMITH look up, startled out of their conversation by the sound and movement. ULRICH (shouting loudly) STOP! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I ADMIT IT, I DID IT! THE OLD MAN IS THERE, UNDERNEATH THE FLOORBOARDS! TEAR IT UP
AND SEE FOR YOURSELVES! HIS HEART SOMEHOW STILL BEATS! INT. INTERROGATION ROOM AT THE POLICE STATION – MORNING JONES interrogates ULRICH, now chained and in custody. On the table is a single picture, taken after the floorboards were lifted up and the old man’s dead dismembered body, with the fake eye still staring out, was found. ULRICH (seemingly lucid and in control) I was nervous, very nervous. But never mad, detective, never mad. I was aware of everything going on around me in the mansion, hearing every sound in the house and farther away. I will tell you what happened, and you’ll see that I am not mad, not at all. I do not know when I first thought of the idea—I just had it one day and could not let it go. Mr. Winters never did anything to me, you should know. He was quite kind to me, giving me a place to live and work to do. I did not need his trinkets or his money; they do not hold value to me. So what was it? It was his eye! That horrible, false eye that was always open and looking and staring and seeing and piercing everything it saw! Certainly when it was focused on me it was the most dreadful thing, gazing into me and making me shiver with cold. So you see, I had to kill him, to have that eye fall upon me no more. Ahh, I see it in your eyes now. You think I am mad? On the contrary, mad men are unintelligent and clumsy. I, on
the other hand, was precise and smart with what I did to carry out the deed. Listen, now! Every night I would start with the utmost care and caution, lest the old man suspect something. I was extraordinarily nice and kind to him the days before his death, making him seem at ease in his old age and retirement. How smart I was to make him think this way, that I was his friend and loyal servant! But then every night I would creep into his room. Slowly I would open the door, carefully not making a sound, not a single sound! Winters would be fast asleep, and I dared not wake him with any clumsy mad-like maneuvers. So I would ever so slowly open the door, bit by bit, until I could fit my head through the entrance. This would take long minutes to accomplish, as I worked very diligently but slowly to maintain my cover. I would move my head in as slowly as I opened the door, until the whole thing was through and I could gaze upon the old man in the dark, sleeping soundly! You see? You see now that I am not mad, but smart and wise for taking the time and caution to position myself so! A mad man would not have had the patience, but not I! I am no mad man, after all. After my head was all the way through, I would slowly and carefully shine a single light on
the old man’s fake, evil eye. I carried out this action diligently for seven long nights, but each time the eye was closed. This was no good, as it had to be open for me to carry out the next part of my plan! The eye was evil and needed to be dealt with! To keep the old man unsuspicious, I talked to him and inquired about his nights so that he would not suspect I watched him. Clever, wouldn’t you say? Too clever for a mad man. On the eighth night, I proceeded to do the same as the others. By this time I felt quite confident in my skills, triumphant that I was going to succeed in my endeavor. The old man was helpless to stop me, not even knowing that I was watching him sleep! To this I think I may have chuckled out loud, for the old man suddenly moved on his bed. But did I give up and withdraw? No! I was too clever for that, so I stayed there in the darkness. It was too dark for anyone to see anything, so I continued at my post. Then, as I was just about to shine the light on him, my finger slipped and the old man sat up, asking who was there with him. Of course, I could not leave now. So I patiently waited in the dark, waited for a whole hour while the old man sat up and listened, like I had done so many nights before. Shortly he let out a terrified groan, and I pitied him then. He had been afraid from the first moment he sat up, with his fear
increasing each minute. He could not reason with or comfort himself, because he knew that he was going to die that night by some force he could not see or hear in the dark. He did not lie down even after a long time, so I chanced to shine a bit of light on him. Slowly, like I had done the other nights, a single beam of light shown through the open door and onto the old man’s evil eye. This night the eye was open, making me furious when I saw it. The light showed it very clearly. It was a clouded, evil blue eye, unseeing but yet freezing my blood at the sight of it. Now with the revelation of the eye came a new sound; my hearing, sharpened, made out the low, fast beating of the old man’s heart. Again, you think me mad for saying this? I am not mad, but have acute senses that some may perceive as madness. The beating heart continued on, growing louder and faster as the old man became more terrified alone in the dark. It froze me on the spot, until I realized the sound might be heard by a neighbor close by! Then I knew that the old man’s time was up. I immediately completely on room, Winters once before I smothered him silencing the beating.
shined the light and ran into the screaming in horror reached him and with the bed, heart to a muffled
Since you still think me mad, I will quell your doubts with what I did after. Quickly and cleverly I took apart the body, cutting off the old man’s arms, legs, and head. Then I removed some panels from the floor and concealed the parts underneath, replacing the panels so no one could tell that something was wrong. And that was it. I was careful not to spill any blood to clean up, being clever as I was. You, of course, know the rest, being called to the house for that one scream let out at the start of the struggle. You saw how smart and calm I was showing you around the mansion, not mad in the slightest. You can’t deny it. But somehow the heart kept beating. Surely you heard it? It was beating so loud, you must have heard it! I could not take it anymore, so I claimed the deed as my own! But you see, I am not mad. mad at all!
Not
EXT. TRAIN STATION IN NEW YORK CITY DETECTIVE JONES and his family step onto the platform, walking away from the Maine train and towards the familiar city noise outside the station. FADE OUT. THE END