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The Cask of Amontillado
Fortunado had no idea the fate that would become of him if he accompanied me any further into the catacombs. He seemed like the type of man who would want his death to be a great one. If I had any say in the matter he would get no glory. He would lie down on the moldy floor and die like the dog he is.
“How did you ever possess that much Amontillado?” He asked suspiciously
He had a right not to trust me. I am, after all, trying to kill the man. But I presumed him to be much more naïve.
“What is the problem, friend? Don’t trust me?”
“Of course I do. But you can understand my confusion, can you not?”
“I can. I received it from a sketchy man in an alley way on my way to the carnival, thus why I wanted your opinion on it.”
His eyes widened “Imagine if the wine is no fraud. So much Amontillado…” he turned his head, staring off into the nothingness we were heading further into.
As we continued, serenaded by the bells dangling off his shoes, I let my mind wander. My thoughts steered towards Fortunado. Such a wicked and conceited man he was. The nerve of him to besmirch my name. How dare him. This world will be better off without him. Then I noticed the chorus of bells has ceased. I look up to see the door in front of us. What a conceited man, could he not just open the door himself? No, he must make me open it. I open the door, with a false smile plastered on my face, and gestured for Fortunado to go in. That he did, as I fallowed.
The old cellar reeked of musk. The smell obviously bothered Fortunado but he never mentioned it. His silence worried me; he was not one to stay quiet.
“Dear, Furtunado, are you well?”
He looked ghastly. He was pale and his eyes were puffy. His health did not react too kindly to the mold.
“I am fine. Come now, open it.”
A single spied crawled across my hand as I opened the pipe. Funny creature it is, but not yet I couldn’t help but get a bit taken back. I’m about to kill a man and I’m scared of a mere spider. What kind of man am I?
“Hurry up. Lady Fortunado is awaiting my arrival at the carnival.”
I see his sickness has yet to affect his rude manor. I pour my guest a glass. He swallows a good amount before I even pour my own.
“This Amontillado is the finest of wine of course?” He questionably assumed.
“Of course. Nothing but the greatest for you, my good friend.”
He was on his third glass by the time we started to converse once more.
“Have you ever heard of the night lock berry?”
“I have not.” He looked intrigued. Well, as intrigued someone can be while intoxicated.
“It’s quite rare. Only found deep in the valleys.”
His coughing interrupted my speaking. How rude.
“I used to pick them by accident as a child.”
He toppled over clutching his throat.
“Now dear Fortunado, have you not noticed it’s quite rude not to look someone in the eye while they speak to you.”
I grabbed him by his black matted hair, forcing him to look up at me.
“They just so happen to be poisonous.”
His eyes got wide. He understood what I was insinuating. Chocking, he muttered something I could not understand.
“You know what’s humorous? I came across some just the other day. It was very nostalgic.”
Fortunado just stared. He was just barely able to choke out,
This amused me.
“Why what? My dear friend you do not look well at all.”
And with that he dropped to the floor.
“Tsk, tsk. How rude. I guess I must depart with you now. It was nice having your company. Goodbye now.”
I threw my glass onto the pile of bones adjacent from him. I turned my heels and ventured away from his body.
I have yet to go back to the catacombs. No mortal has come near it for I have sealed the entrance. I don’t think many have missed Fortunado. But there is one thing for which I am absolutely positive. Revenge is quite sweet.
In pace requiescat.