Dear Mr Poe

by Peter Miller

Dear Mr Poe,

As you know I have been in your service now for twelve years and I like to think I have performed my duties satisfactorily and to your liking. I have for the most part enjoyed working for you and my time here has been filled with many pleasant memories.

I regret to say, however, that recent events have forced me to consider my continuing employment with you.

It’s not that I minded when you first brought home the orangutan. I understand that man of your literary persuasion has inspiration from many sources and that writing must of necessity come from experience. I know you will fully sympathise with my point, however, when I tell you that caring for such a beast has added a considerable workload to my usual routine. Likewise, a raven is a fine and admirable bird, and I know that it affords you the requisite feelings of despair and gloom that is so necessary in your line of work. Personally, I quite like ravens, from a distance and in a tower or other approprate aviary. Having them fly around the kitchen and leave droppings in the plum duff, however, is both disconcerting and unsanitary.

I feel I must point out also that there is a level of, shall we say ‘maintenance’, that accompanies the keeping of such creatures, and that this maintenance imposes a wearisome and odorous addition to my daily tasks.

I feel I have taken on these adjuncts to my job description without complaint or disruption to the household, nor any additional wages in lieu of animal management.

Of late, though, there have been a number of incidents which I feel are beyond the call of my position. Firstly, the discovery by the scullery maid of a beating heart under the living-room floor has caused much distress to myself and all the staff. Finding the organ itself was a confronting and disturbing experience for all concerned, but the visitation of the police and the questioning that ensued has put everyone quite on edge.

Immediately on the heels of this, as I am sure I don’t have to remind you, the exposing of a dead cat bricked up in the loungeroom chimney imposed a decidely morbid mood over the entire household. I know that these things are helpful for the required atmosphere you conjure in your work, and whilst I understand your request for your rooms to be left chilled and for your nightly glass of Amontillado, I feel that there is only so much that can be asked of the help in this respect.

Which brings me to the issue of the young lady you seem to have taken up with. I know you have not required any additional care of me in this respect, but her presence in the house is causing much consternation and sometimes even sheer terror to those who encounter her walking the halls in the dead of night. Her constant nocturnal sobbing is disconcerting to say the least and her knocking on doors at odd hours is keeping everyone on edge. I feel that at the very least you might give her a room in the upper part of the house rather than in the crypt, which is draughty and damp and full of rats.

Speaking of the crypt, a number of the staff have voiced their concerns to me in light of the strange mechanical device you have had installed there recently, and of the large pit in which it has been constructed. Even basic work safety requirements have it that a safety fence should be constructed around the perimeter of this pit, and that the enormous sharpened blade on the mechanical device have some kind of protective cover fitted. Forgive me if I am speaking beyond my station here, but I hope that you don’t intend any nefarious business with this device, and that is merely installed to assist you with the development of your imaginative musings. I trust that the fellow chained to the floor is not a permanent fixture. He looks thin enough as it is, and I can’t expect the kitchen hand to be constantly climbing down to him with food and dodging the enormous swinging blade on a regular basis.

Lastly, there is the issue of the strange knockings and rappings and sometimes groaning sounds that a number of the employees have reported coming from the newly rendered section of wall in the wine cellar. I fervently hope that there is not another cat walled up in there.

I ask you please to consider these events in respect of the continued morale of myself and the staff. Perhaps it might be a good idea to have some kind of party or festivity to get everyone’s spirits up, and to enliven and rejuvenate this old house. I’m sure with your wonderful mind and imagination you could come up with something spectacular. Perhaps a masked ball would be fun?

Yours sincerely,
Mabel Usher
Housekeeper.