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Sounds
The narrator describes himself as particularly attuned to sound and makes a point to mention what he hears throughout the story. He claims to hear the old man’s heart three times, once as he stares at the old man in his bed, once as he waits for the old man to die, and then the heartbeat at the end, which he mistakes for the old man’s. During his quiet vigils, he makes note of the sound of the death watches, wood-dwelling beetles that make a clicking sound like a watch. In many cases, sound in the story signifies the narrator’s undoing. He admits that a chuckle at his own cleverness alerts the old man to his presence. Although the narrator is confident the neighbors cannot hear the beating of the old man’s heart as he dies, they do hear his cry of terror. Finally, his own heartbeat at the end, or perhaps a hallucination of a heartbeat, drives the narrator to confession.
Pauses
Throughout the story the narrator often interrupts himself to add more detail, as indicated by Poe’s frequent use of em-dashes. For example, when the narrator describes his use of a lantern during his midnight vigils he states, “I resolved to open a little — a very, very little crevice in the lantern.” The pause here suggests that the narrator has re-evaluated his use of the word “little” as not emphatic enough and revised his speech to emphasize just how small the crevice is. He uses these moments to emphasize his words as if in an attempt to convince the audience of his account, his cleverness, or his sanity. He also occasionally pauses his speech for laughter, as when he describes how he cleaned up the crime scene, or to punctuate a thought with an “Oh no!” These interjections suggest that the narrator describes these moments in a gleeful and proud tone. Overall, these constant pauses and interruptions give the story an erratic, start-stop rhythm and almost manic quality, highlighting the narrator’s emotional instability.
Time
The narrator has an unsettling preoccupation with time that acts as a kind of countdown to the old man’s death, and his own eventual arrest. He keeps precise measurements of the time leading up to the murder, first counting the week before, then timing the hours he spends staring at the old man’s sleeping form. During these vigils, he makes note of the sound of the death watches—beetles that often live in the wood of old houses and make a ticking sound. Their name comes from a superstition that their watch-like clicking is a countdown to a person’s death. Furthermore, he describes the beating of the old man’s heart as the sound “a watch makes when enveloped in cotton,” almost as if the old man’s heart is counting down to his own death. When the narrator hears the heartbeat again, whether his own or in hallucination, that sound once again acts as a countdown, this time to his confession.
