The Land Of The Free - An Interpretation Of Edgar Allan Poe's Poetry Works

This morning went just the same. Her eyes fluttered open, like snowflakes were trickling off her eyelashes. Clutched tightly in her arm was her stuffed bear, Eulalie. Good morning, Annabel, Eulalie’s voice rung in Annabel’s mind. Annabel never answered. Eulalie used to be her sister’s bear, and she only reminded Annabel of shame and gloom. As consciousness rose over, Annabel’s body was struck by a chilling dismay. She was no longer in her dreamland, which often came as the quaint wintertime town called Frosty Village. It was her personal childhood wonderland that we’ve all wished for and forgotten about as we’ve grown. As the minutes of dismay passed, she felt that same scent of the want for freedom.
As usual, no one was there to wake her up. Father was fiercely slicing meat at the butchers, again. Mother was scrubbing down another family’s house, again. And Lenore, her sister, was free, again, and forevermore.
Annabel was hidden under a scraggly blanket, but fortunately, she was not alone. Israfel and Helen, the previous siblings that lived in her bleak house, were playing Checkers on the wood floor. Israfel and Helen were free, but they didn’t mind giving Annabel company.
She fell out of bed, got on all fours and crawled out her door. She made her way to the hallway bathroom and lifted up her head enough to look in the mirror. The frills covering her neck were patted with light blood drops and the skin peeking from the frills showed wounds as if someone’s nails were digging in it. She looked at the calendar in the hallway. It was July Fourth. Another day going the same as always, but definitely not sane.
From her earliest memories, Annabel only spoke with Israfel and Helen. Her parents were rarely home, unless she was still awake when they arrived. She hardly remembered her sister, but it was no mistake that she knew her. Annabel was only four at the time that Lenore was murdered. Lenore was nine. Nothing had been sane since. Especially Annabel. Lenore was the only rare and radiant sane family member who died so young. Her mother fell into a deep state of depression, attempting suicide. How could she face that her innocent child had been killed of a meaningless cause? Her father became an alcoholic and gambled, losing most of the family’s money. Meanwhile, Annabel was just there, trying out life. She had grown up knowing no one but hardship. She could not take the sad world she lived in.
When she crawled back into her dim lit room, she placed herself next to Israfel and Helen. Her nightgown flowed around her like a well.
“Good morning, darling,” said Helen languidly.
The twins Israfel and Helen both died of measles nearly thirty years earlier. They were devoted to watching over Anabelle.
“I see you’ve been to Frosty Village,” Israfel announced seeing the blood on her nightgown, “When will you join us there for good?”
“Eldorado won’t let me,” Annabel whined between threatening tears.
“Don’t let that worm conquer you!” Helen grumbled under her breath.
“He bit me!” Annabel cried, pointing to her wounded neck.
“Once you move there, he won’t bother you… It’s just not the right time for your freedom.” Helen explained warmly.
“What are you going to do today?” Israfel asked as he continued to move a red piece on the board. He had never been the considerate one. His role was to ask the empty questions and nod at the answers.
Annabel was silent as she twiddled with the damp frills around her neck. It wasn’t long before she proclaimed that she would go to the beach, as she often did. 1

“Don’t forget your bathing suit.” Helen reminded her. 2

It was not Israfel’s or Helen’s role to look after her well being or keep her safe. They were there. They were apart of her life—much like strangers are apart of the live’s of others. They were apart of her dreams, apart of her memories, and apart of her mind.
Annabel slid down her winding staircase, which she often fell down as a child. Memories were filled with head injuries and hospitals every month. She was a clumsy child, but not because she didn’t look out for herself. She just never seemed to reach the awareness of what it meant to be hurt, and what it meant to die.
She didn’t need a bathing suit. She didn’t know if anyone cared if she came home with soaked and salty clothes drying on the banister. Annabel was fast asleep by the time Mother and Father came home. 3

Since Annabel lived in a community right by the sea, the walk was rather easy. She visited the ocean for many hours a day, as she was alone but loved to be in public. She loved to be seen by others, to prove her existence. She had met and seen interesting humans at this beach. The mild-mannered man on the phone with a lover who he kept secret. The young woman crumpling up empty sheets of paper and throwing it about. The old joker, who had gone up to nearly every kid and told them a joke that never made sense. She knew three of them already, and they always seemed like riddles instead of something you should laugh at. But he did laugh. He laughed wildly as he walked over to his next audience.4

The ocean’s water flushed out her emotions, and she felt utterly serene, past the pesky blackbirds covering most of the beach. They squawked like a ticking bomb in her ear, and as she closed her eyes to return to Frosty Village, their sounds reminded her of reality.
Annabel called them over with the promise of breadcrumbs. She lifted open her eyes that were red with impatience, and slipped one blackbird under her frostbitten fingers, and squeezed, blocking off the bird’s breathing. The bird died so human like, coughing out screams, yelling out a last goodbye, fitting every last memory into its last breaths. It lay limp as the other blackbirds flew away, predicting their morbid fate.
She began her way back home, when someone came in her way. It was a mime, but he strangely looked her age. He bowed to her, and she curtseyed. There was no need to be impolite. With a wide, respectful smile on his face, he made his hands look like a flying swallow, and then picked up the dead black bird. The black bird awoke in his hands and flew away, onto Annabel’s doorpost. Then, suddenly, the mime kissed Annabel’s cheek.
Annabel was not surprised by the paranormal event that had taken place. She was used to the insane, and as a naďve little girl, she had no reason not to believe it. 5

After she felt his mysterious lips, her heart spilled over an overflowing joy she hadn’t felt for so many years. She felt love and acceptance and trust in this boy, for testing her views of life and death and dreams. But her vision was soon swallowed, and the seemed to spin like a merry go round. The more she tried to reach the mime, the more her distance expanded. Annabel’s tiptoes boomed on the ground. Her own silence was broken. She shrieked like the dying blackbird, and found herself coming closer to her home. 6

And then, she was in Frosty Village again, asleep, in reality, but the events she went through had not been a dream. But they may have been in her mind. 7

Just as the moon took the place of the sun, Annabel’s mother and father came into her room and kissed her on the brain, like they had for the past nine years. But tonight, her mother lifted her into her muddy, ancient Chevrolet, and dropped her off at the safest place for her, though it was far too late.
When Annabel awoke, she found herself in a curious place. It was a warm colored room. The walls were a color she had never seen before that seemed to hide a secret. It was quite empty except for a window revealing a clear nighttime sky of no stars and a light peach colored mattress.8

Eulalie was lying on the mattress with her.9

Its nice here, Annabel. Nicer than your old home. Eulalie’s voice rang again.
Why am I here?
Your mother brought you. You’ll like it. You’ll heal.
But I feel fine.
Annabel walked around the room, making a figure eight. She went to the door and pulled the handle, but it was impossible to get out.
I’m locked in.
But you’ll get better.
But I want to be free.
Not yet.
When?
An orderly in a pristine white gown creaked open the door. Annabel, standing close to the open door, stepped backwards quickly, and whispered an apology under her breath. He waved to Annabel nonchalantly. She didn’t wave back. The date was July Fourth, and fireworks were going off over the ocean next door. The orderly took out his key and opened the window in Annabel’s room. He leaned over and watched the show, but quickly retreated, calling someone inside the room. And then the world seemed to go on mute. Not even Annabel’s cries made a noise. The room was devoured into nothingness. She saw the snowflake’s falling, but she was still awake. The brightness and beauty of Frosty Village filled the small room. Eulalie wasn’t in sight.10

Where are you, Eulalie?
Annabel, what are you doing? Snap out of it, your mother is here to see you!
I can’t!
She’s shaking you, don’t you feel her? She’s screaming, can’t you hear it?
My stomach is turning!
Annabel! You’re tossing around!
My legs are breaking!
Wake up! You’re falling!
My throat is closing!
No, Annabel! You’re choking yourself!
Eldorado appeared in the distance. 11

“Annabel, you’ve been alone and uncared for for far too long. I thought, maybe, I could be patient. I thought I would give your life a chance. But death has pried any hope of your life. From childhood’s hour you have not been. I cannot endure to watch you suffer any longer. You are welcome into Frosty Village, and all of those who you have loved are waiting…”
Annabel’s visions subsided. A chill of snowy frost glazed over her eyes as she broke out of her spasm and threw herself out the window. Fireworks flew into the water as she landed. “The Star Spangled Banner” was ending. For the land of the free, and the home of the brave. Annabel smiled and died deep in the ocean. And she was finally free.