The house is cracking beneath my feet, in moments, it could collapse from above me. Running for my escape, seconds after "The House of Usher" had finally fallen.
Kneeling near Roderick I hear him speaking indistinctly about Lady Madeline still being alive, trapped in the coffin, beneeth the chamber. He believes that she is standing within reach and the door is the only thing stopping him from seeing her.
The noises coincedentally replicate the description of the romance. Roderick sits undisturbed by the shrieks and grating sounds, he sits mumbling incoherently.
Hearing noises that sounds like the cracking of the old house is obscure. The storm brewing is worsening the shape of the fragile and delicate house.
As a storm passes, I am reading aloud one of Roderick's favorite romances, "Mad Trist," by Sir Launcelot.
Mad TristSir Launcelot
Roderick falls to his knees below her. Her white clothing was blood stained. This was the last that I saw of Roderick. Lady Madeline fell upon him and killed him. The house was reacting the same way, falling to bits.