Madeline Usher's Tale

Chapter One

“During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country, and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.”

                                                                          Chapter One

                                                                      New York---1855

 My brother was born September 13, 1839. He was given the name Roderick James Usher.

            After three miscarriages and a boy who only lived to be two months old, my mother gave birth to me on May 10, 1847, naming me Madeline Marie Usher.

            After I was born, my mother made up her mind to no longer have any more children. So my brother and I took advantage of this fact and got everything we ever wanted. Roderick wanted a whole army of toy soldiers: he got it. I wanted the latest fashionable porcelain doll: I got it.

We had the best tutors. Roderick excelled in language and math. I was complimented for art and writing. Roderick was a stunning horseman. I was perfect at the piano. I often envied Roderick for learning, what I termed, “boy things.”  My mother told me that when I was older I would be able to learn horse riding.

My family lived in upper Manhattan of New York where we occupied a huge three story brownstone house. My father was a successful lawyer, so our neighbors consisted of other wealthy lawyers, doctors, and businessmen. Obviously, there was snobbery among everyone, but as a child, I had little knowledge of social politics and would play with the neighborhood children of families my parents would look upon as rivals. After my home schooling for the day, I would often sneak across the street to a friend’s house where we would play with dolls and have fancy tea parties. Roderick, on the other hand, developed a particularly irritating form of snobbery and hardly had a friend come over. He liked to say he enjoyed living a solitary life away from the pressures of social politics.

I had the good fortune of occupying a room that looked out on the street. I could look out my bedroom window and follow fashionable women with their fur coats and gorgeous dresses. I liked to mimic how they walked and held their bodies. I sometimes dragged Roderick into my play acting and forced him to act like a gentleman escorting me around town as though we were husband and wife.

City life spoiled my brother and I beyond repair. There was always somewhere to go, somewhere to shop or eat. Money was not an issue.

            I don’t remember much of my first years of life—who does? Memories easily vanish, save for the occasional early memory of maybe breaking your arm or losing your favorite puppy. But what I do remember is that I was content with life. There was no drama, no danger. I was sure that there was nothing in the world that could destroy my current happiness.

            When I was eight, my grandfather died. I had only met my grandfather a few times when he occasionally left the Usher family estate and would come to visit us, but I knew that he was a successful lawyer, just as my father was. So upon his death I had mixed feelings about how I should be behaving. I did not know him as I knew my mother and father. I was sad, obviously, but I was not in tears.

            A lawyer friend of my father’s came over with a briefcase full of official looking papers. Apparently my grandfather had left a will stating that my father was now the head owner of the Usher family estate.