Reimagined: The Fall of the House of Usher
I loved my brother, but as our life neared its end, I came to the sad realization that our House would die at his hand. I felt no malice toward Roderick, but nonetheless, I resolved to kill him. I went to the cellar. It took all my strength to descend the long flight of stairs that spiraled down into the vast and drafty bowels of the House. As I went I envisioned myself tripping, tumbling to the bottom of the stairs, and laying there crooked and limp until an unfortunate servant found me. That wasn’t an uncommon death among the Ushers, especially the older ones with compromised eyesight - Aunt Dorothea went that way, and before her, Great Grandfather Byron. They were treacherous stairs, small and slick and unpredictable in height. Nevertheless, I made it to the bottom. When I stepped into the dark, cavernous cellar, gooseflesh instantly spread across my frail limbs. I smelled mildew, and felt ghostly curtains of cobwebs brush over my skin and stick in my hair as I wande...