Usher and I were very good friends as children, but I did not know very much about him. He always disliked being around people. The usher were not like other people. They loved art and music. They were very rich, and gave money away to poorer people, but they were also very private. Because the same house was always passed down from father to son, people called the family, too, the “House of Usher.”
I looked again at the house, and at the grounds around it. Again I felt afraid. The air seemed to hang over the house and grounds, and it smelled of death.
‘I am dreaming’ I thought. ‘I am making myself afraid.’
I shook my head and looked again. The house was very old and in a terrible state. Looking closely, I noticed a narrow crack in the wall. It began at the roof and made its way down the side of the house.
