The Fall of the House of Usher

Hello and good afternoon to my follower(s), now I'm quite aware that all of my stories so far have been that of romantic nature; cliche and dorky teenage love stories to be more specific, however tonight things shall be shaken up.  I was given an English assignment recently, to write a creative and ideally nightmare-inducing ending to Edgar Allan Poe's "The Fall of The House of Usher".  I did not intend to share this story but the combination of the worst day I have had in high school and my teacher's positive reaction to reading it, I have decided to put it out there.  (The entirety of the first paragraph is directly from Poe's work, the second paragraph on is my own.)

"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, though 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.  I know not how it was --but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit.  I say sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible.  I looked upon the scene before me -- upon the mere house, and the simple landscape feature of the domain --upon the bleak walls --upon the vacant eye-like windows -- depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveler upon opium -- the bitter lapse into everyday life -- the hideous dropping off of the veil.  There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart --an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime.  What crowded upon me as I pondered.  I was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory conclusion, that while, beyond doubt, there are combinations of very simple natural objects which have the power of thus affecting us, still the analysis of this power lies among considerations beyond our depth.  It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression; and, acting upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled luster by the dwelling, and gazed down --but with a shudder even more thrilling than before upon the remodeled and inverted images of the gray sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems, and the vacant and eye-like windows.  Nevertheless, in this mansion of gloom I now proposed myself a sojourn of some weeks."

Leaves began to dance around my feet as the wind pulsated through the far off trees; my hair was whisked about like the flames of a roaring fire.  The breeze, brisk and cool, was refreshing against my blood filled cheeks as the thought of going inside made my stomach churn.  I had always avoided the house; it was shrouded in mystery and stories of terror for as long as I could remember.  Through my adolescence I grew less and less apprehension for the creaky old house in the woods, but it remained a note in the back of my mind to stay away; that thought didn't always work unfortunately.  We were young, around eighteen I believe, we had a couple drinks that we snatched out of my father's cabinet and were wandering aimlessly about town.  Thomas and I found ourselves standing, staring intently at the house that we had been raised to fear.  "We should uh, go inside", Thomas's speech slurred out of his mouth like molasses, I told him it was a bad idea but he confidently shook his head towards me and stumbles up the stairs to the house.  Tiptoeing towards the door to spite my fear, he giggled with each step; he grasped the old wooden door handle and slowly pushed the door open.  He turned to me and yelled drunkenly, "See is fine!" I sighed and took a step towards him when all of a sudden his collar was yanked into the darkness, the door slamming shut after his vanishing.  I jumped backwards, falling over my own feet; quickly I got up kicking the dust behind me and ran for my life like a coward.  I never saw Thomas again, except for in my nightmares that is.

So here I stand, staring at the door; the door that took my best friend away from me.  "How could I have been so weak?", I asked myself, "I just let him go".  Not a moment has gone by since, that I did not hear Thomas's endearing laugh in my head, or seeing when i close my eyes, the look of displeasure on his face anytime I called him "Tommy".  I cherished all the memories of our friendship, I even keep a small drawing he once did for me when we were kids; a small slip of paper, about the size of my palm was sandwiched in my coat side pocket at all times.  That is the reason I came here, I wanted to leave the drawing with him, or at least where I lost him; my wife Amy has wanted us to more closer to her parents as their age is rendering them forgetful and incapable to live on their own.  We are set to leave in the morning but I had to do this before I journeyed onward.

Slowly I made my way towards the front door, dragging my feet along the cobbled pathway; the darkness had descended quickly and the wind began to howl through the trees.  Each step, loudly creaking like one would expect of such an old house.  I raised my hand to knock and chuckled at the realization, "This house has been vacant for longer than I've been alive", I reached for the handle and was startled by a loud caw from a crow.  I quickly turned to see the bird perched upon a stump, and it seemed to be staring directly at me.  I turned back to see the door open.  "It must have been cracked open and the wind blew it open", I tried to reassure myself, I took a few steps inside of the house and the door slammed shut behind me.  I jumped, ran to the door and tried to open the door; it was locked.  Using all my weight and placing my foot against the door as leverage to pull the door open the door knob came clean off, I flew across the room landing on an old rug that dispersed dust everywhere upon my landing.  I fanned the ancient dust away from my mouth with my hands, squinting my eyes to see through the darkness I saw a table in the middle of the room with a large candle sat lonesome in the middle.  I grabbed the matches out of my pocket and lit the candle, giving me some light to see.

The whole room was dimly lit with the flickering light, I could now see the plain white drapes hanging above the windows and down along the frame of the door; the beautifully carved wooden banister and basic wooden furniture around the room.  I ran my fingers along the elaborately crafted banister, as I looked around to the other rooms.  Two doors, both boarded shut were on the far right side of the room, I looked to the one door on the left.  Picking up the candle and using it to illuminate the other room, I went to the windows, they were nailed shut.  Walking back to the main hall I heard something, a low voiced chuckle, I turned the corner to see a shadowy figure on the stairs.  I lifted the candle and saw Thomas's face, aged with a nefarious smile creeping across his face.  Jaw hung low I had no words, "Well it took you long enough", Thomas said infuriated.  "Thomas, what are you doing here! Why didn't you leave? The police searched the house, they didn't find anyone, I - I don't get it", Thomas began to laugh, "I couldn't leave, he wouldn't let me", Thomas pointed tot he top of the stairs in thin air, "Thomas no one's up there", I said concerned he had gone mad.  His laugh became maniacal; his insane cackle filled the room.  Laughing whilst looking at his feet, his head slowly crept up, "There's no way out", his laugh grew louder.  "Thomas why are you doing th..", Thomas cut me off, "Why did you leave me?".  I had no answer, "Tommy I'm so sorry", He slowly stood up and waltzed down the few steps, he turned his back foot sideways and planted his right into my chest knocking me back against the door, the candle in my hand flung out of my grasp and rolled across the floor, lighting the drapes on fire.  Winded and woozy from hitting my head against the door I looked up to see the room filled with roaring flames and smoke; Thomas stood in front of me smiling down at me.  I crammed my hand into my coat pocket, reaching out shakily I handed him the drawing; he took it from my fingers, perused the paper for a moment, crumpled it and threw it into the flames.  Gasping for air, I passed out with my last sight, being Thomas's malicious smile.