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Author Topic: Descent of Lady Madeline of Usher  (Read 261 times)
Nephtys
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Keeper of Sacred Words' little brother: w00t


Descent of Lady Madeline of Usher
« on: December 10, 2007, 05:02:30 AM »

Meh... Not my best work... but time was of the essence. And my tutors are suckers, they don't have very high expectations. This'll satisfy them. But does it satisfy you? I hope not. C&C please.

The Descent of Lady Madeline of Usher

Last night, I was unable to sleep again. It seems, in this dreary place, as if you can hear the wind at all times, hurling itself at the walls of our ancestral home. What those walls must have endured.

I heard, the other day, people in town talk about us, I did not mean to spy, but they were speaking loudly and I was nearby.

Fancy how sometimes people just won’t see you, as if you were a ghost, and so they spoke and didn’t pay me any heed even as they went to say most horrid things, and where do people come up with such words as they? It really surprised me, the way they referred to my family as the House of Usher, as if we and the house were one, really weird – can people and a building be conglomerate; not merely walls and windows, and alcoves, but its people! My brother Roderick and I, and our parents before us. No, I must not think such thoughts, they were mere townsfolk; simpletons.

Does it live then, our house. Such a silly idea, I dare not pronounce it, my brother would have put me away for sure, if he heard some such gibberish, but listen, even now, the beams above, they groan – under the weight they have to carry mayhap they grow discontent. Who can tell if they are not sick of carrying the library with its many books.

Ah, the books, the wisdom; if only Roderick didn’t pay so much heed to what I can – or cannot – read. Dear Roderick, though, he is the only one I’ve got left.

I swear, ever since our parents passed away, God bless them, dear Roderick has changed. He roams the halls and haunts most random rooms at random times and once, devoid of sleep again I was up before the grey of dawn only to see him trudge up from the deep and clammy cellars down below the foundations of the house. And yet another time, in similar fashion, as I walked the length of the tarn in the rosy light of sunup, I saw him from afar, ghost-like, hovering atop the north tower, hair and clothes flapping violently in the ever-ghastly wind.

Oh, were I of a more poetic nature, I couldn’t describe the dread I felt. Roderick’s strangeness doesn’t affect merely him alone, but like the brackish water of some puddle spills on whoever carelessly treads into it.

His sister Madeline, I wonder if he thinks of me that way still, there is something in his eyes, I daresay it gets my skin to shiver, which is all the more frightening, since as of late I rarely feel anything at all. I’m just a silly girl, I suppose, but still I feel his eyes on me, as if from everywhere, as if from the very shelves and walls. Roderick is the elder Usher, the house by rights is his and seems to do his will. Did I call them simpletons, the gossiping tongues? And just see which way my thoughts now go.

I would swear that when I sit here, in the library and read, I can sense Roderick’s eyes all over me and they feast and they watch, and if he only dared, I’m sure at every page I turn, he’d lick my finger for me.

****

Fiend, how could he, no, don’t do this, fiend what would our parents say, but no, they’re dead! Oh, my flesh exposed, my nightgown torn, it was so dear, how shall I ever replace it, no, please stop this, I can’t bear – I can’t fight back, my arms and legs, so heavy, lead, scream, but who would hear, still scream, if I don’t I’ll

snap.

The wind is ever more chilling and sleep is impossible, I dread the stillness of my bed, my limbs feel so heavy and an anchor weighs on my chest whenever I lie down.

The castle has changed for me forever, it doesn’t shelter me no more, riddled as it is with fungal infestation, it crawls and I wonder how deep the roots go, they are many-fingered, the fungi, myriads of tiny vines that touch, and feel and grope and explore, look for cracks and crevices, try to break the house apart, and I can’t do aught, I feel so heavy, and I can barely move.

****

I don’t know what to do, what to feel, what to say, the house bears heavy on me, strains on me, keeps me down when I would whish to run, oh, but I don’t believe this last bit myself, do I, where would I run, even if I could. Roderick and I are the last ones, and I love him as dear as he loves me, despite what he has done, he is my brother, my love, my hate, I cannot stand his presence, yet it fills me with dread to be separated from him.

And now I lose his attention to this visitor, I don’t know the man, but his eyes frighten me, they look at me quizzically, inquisitively, and he looks at my brother the same, he may pretend to care but he thinks us freaks of nature, I am sure, oh what if he suspects?

Things do not bode well, in fact they bode ever worse, I remember my childhood so well, we were so happy, Roderick and I under the care of our loving parents, but now everything is very different, and our lives move inexorably towards their ends, I can feel it, in the lethargy of my bones, in the stale air that ever more unwillingly finds it way into my chest. I barely move these days anymore, it is just too much of a strain, instead I am trapped, sitting here, or lying there and, oh, if I only I could stream and trash, under the constant onslaught of thoughts I do not look or care for, yet still they come, images of my brother, loving me like no brother should, and do I love him back, I cannot say, and yet it haunts me, he was so rough but spoke such tender words and his disease wastes him as much as mine does me, and he wanders about, restless, much like I would if only I could.

His eyes speak of grief, of madness, it is as if he’d already lost, but can’t he see that I still live and fight, I’m sure he must, but it’s so hard to keep my eyes open, does he know I still fight, I’m sure he must, but I need rest so I can fight, I’m sure he must, I’m sure, I’m tired, he must, I must

sleep.

****

What is this, oh no, have I gone blind, and why can’t I move, somebody get me out of here, I’m tearing at myself, where am I, is this? A coffin! Yes, so tight, it is the only possibility, he has done it, he has given up about me, hasn’t he, oh Roderick, how could you.

Must have buried me alive, must have believed me dead, and dug me in, oh what shall I do, it’s so dark and cold  and damp, I want out, I can’t, no more, I want out, hit and kick, how can I get out, scratch and shout, I must get

out.

How long have I been in here now, throat sore from screaming, fingers hurt, cold and wet, and filthy, specks of hair, clots of blood, what have I done, the coffin, no it’s still nailed tightly shut.

Roderick, brother, lover, killer, if I get out, revenge, kill, take him with me, out, I want out, out of this

grave.

Locked me in, in one of the vaults down in the cellar, I can’t see, but the walls, they feel old and cold and damp, and I run my fingers along them and it hurts, what can I do, what can I do, what else but

scream.

Walls know I’m theirs, they know and drool over their prisoner, they lust and drool and stoop.

Scream and scream and now I can’t even do that, oh Lord, my voice, is gone, no, I want out, pound the walls, pound the doors, make them hear me, make them free me, save me, don’t want to die down here in the dark, please no, the cold, the dark, please no!

Roderick, the bastard, the demon, how could he, why doesn’t he hear me, Roderick, hate him, kill him, if only, what has he done to me, how could he do it, he’s defiled me and now he’s locked me away for dead, no I won’t have it, I’ll break free, the doors, they can’t keep me forever, the doors, they must give way, to my revenge, they must

break.

****

Weakened, I can’t see well, what blurs my vision red? Must not give in, must find my brother, but the light from without, the gusts of wind, I’ve heard them all along, felt the storm come, everything shall fall and die, but my brother shall not escape, revenge, I’ll take him with me, kill, cold marble under my feet, where is his room, there, another door, no it can’t stop me, brother, see me now, here I come, you have given up on me too soon, but now I come, I come for my revenge, I come

for you.
Logged

I have been assured that a young healthy child well nursed is at a year old a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricassee or a ragout.
Jonathan Swift, A Modest Proposal
tyrone
street musician

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Posts: 231

oooo.........gamervision


Re: Descent of Lady Madeline of Usher
« Reply #1 on: January 04, 2008, 09:01:09 PM »

your right neph its not your best but it does have a nice ring of death to it.
Logged

warning: use of this product for extended periods of time may cause gamervision. side fx inclued: extreme discomfort & redness of the eyes, changes in vision,numness of fingers. if you experience any of these sidefx's turn off your gameing console & get out of the house!
(( no cure found yet ))
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