Madman's Monologue

Finally making contact, she flung her assailant as hard as she could, hearing a dull thud as the intruder hit the wall before banging back and forth between the hall walls like a ping-pong ball. Now that there was no one clawing at her flesh, she could see it was a large black raven that had attacked her. It must have flown in through one of the broken windows. The poor creature sat perched on the stair railing dazed after their skirmish. The shiny feathers on its chest rose and fell in rapid succession as her heart drummed in wild synchronicity. There was no clear distinction between which one of them was more afraid, her or the bird. She edged her body along the wall trying to keep from frightening it further and eased downstairs to open …show more content…

O’Malley’s death, he changed his will to leave everything to his wife. Rumors of her infidelity and the fact that she was conveniently out of town when her husband died were a little fishy. Of course, all this is inconclusive and would never stand up in a court of law. Consequently, the taint of her husband’s death followed her. The community ostracized Mrs. O’Malley until she died.” “How sad. Did she leave Madison and return to New Orleans?” “No. She continued to live on the property with their son, Patrick and ran the plantation until her death. To the end, she was adamant that she was innocent.” Aunt Abigail said something terrible happened in the house. Was this it? Why discuss it in secret? It didn’t seem that drastic to speak about in hushed conversation. There has to be more to the story. “Thank you for this new information. All this makes me wish I knew more about my family history.” “Have you ever thought of putting together a family tree? I’ve found Ancestry.com is a convenient website. It has the world’s largest compilation of genealogy.” “I’ll give it a try when I get back to Macon. Thank you for the information, Lisa. …show more content…

Then she began checking the other rooms. The second bath, down the hall, needed updating as well. There were three more bedrooms on the second floor. The room she used, the one her parents used, and a third guest room. These all needed minor repairs, refinishing the wood floors and giving the walls a fresh coat of paint. There was one more room to examine—the attic. Remembering that boards covered the windows, she needed something to pry them away to allow light into the area. She returned to the car, retrieving a flashlight from the glove compartment and a tire iron from the trunk before returning to climb the attic stairs. As the door swung open, a musty odor greeted her. She fumbled to find the light switch. Standing in the doorway, she waited a few moments while her eyes adjusted to the darkness before moving into the center of the room. Looking in the general direction of the windows, she could see splinters of light escaping through the cracks in the boards. She strode across the room brandishing the tire iron as a weapon going into battle. A few hefty tugs later the boards gave