Alone, at midnight, is definitely the best way to experience Poe; his style evokes such an otherworldly creepiness. The literal and metaphorical fall of the House of Usher is gothic af.

The estate: "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."

The last of the Ushers: "The now ghastly pallor of the skin, and the now miraculous lustre of the eye, above all things startled and even awed me. The silken hair, too, had been suffered to grow all unheeded, and as, in its wild gossamer texture, it floated rather than fell about the face."

The curtains: "The dark and tattered draperies, which, tortured into motion by the breath of a rising tempest, swayed fitfully to and fro upon the walls, and rustled uneasily about the decorations of the bed."

Nothing is safe from a dramatic retelling.