Madeline Usher's Tale

Chapter Four

“I feel that the period will sooner or later arrive when I must abandon life and reason together, in some struggle with the grim phantasm, fear.”

                                                                             Chapter Four

 My mother died eighteen months later.

The funeral was held outdoors like my grandfather’s was. My mother was buried along side the deceased former members of the House of Usher with only her children and husband attending the service. Both of my mother’s parents had long since been dead, and she had not a single sibling. We were what remained of her short life.

Whatever it was that ailed her in life, whether real or imagined, killed her in the end. I suppressed every feeling in my body the day of her funeral. I couldn’t even cry, too angry at my father and the physicians for not seeing what I saw, and angry at myself for not speaking my fears.

Roderick held my hand while the reverend tried to console us with passages from the Bible. I didn’t hear a word the reverend said. His voice droned endlessly. All I felt was Roderick’s fierce pulse in the hand that held mine. The few times I looked at my brother, he stared resolutely at our mother’s casket. I think his expression was one of the few that we shared at that moment.

I was afraid to look at my father—afraid that my resolve would crack.

I remember going to my bedroom after the service. Tears still had not come to me, and I began to wonder if there was something wrong with me for feeling this way. I lay down on my bed, fully dressed, as the light faded from the walls. I stared at the ceiling, listening to the birds and the sounds of the house.

The door opened as the last of the light subsided to darkness. I was so withdrawn that I couldn’t even move my eyes to the side to see who had entered. The bed shifted with the added weight.

“Maddy.”

Roderick’s voice stirred me back into existence. I didn’t respond.

“You missed dinner.”

“Oh,” was all I could think to answer.

I let Roderick roll me onto my side. I let him put his arms around me as he held me against his chest. He stroked my hair. We lay side by side in mutual silence.

I allowed myself to cry.

            The family curse did not spare my mother. I began to wonder which one of us the curse would destroy next. How much longer did we have? I was determined that if the curse did strike again, I would be ready.

                                                                                *          *          *

            After the death of my mother, my father didn’t know what to do with me. I was now the only member of the family that could stay permanently at the manor. But my father was concerned for my safety.

            “There are plenty of servants in this house to protect me, Father,” I told him, annoyed that he thought I couldn’t run the entire house.

            “What if there are robbers?” my father retorted.

            “We live in the middle of nowhere!”

            “Exactly.”

            I wanted to laugh at the conversation. It was beginning to sound absurd.