This was written for an LA assignment: re-write a scene from one of the 4 short stories we'd read.
Natrually, I did one by the king of horror- Edgar Allen Poe. (He's the King, Stephen King is the Master.)
This is what was submitted to my teacher, complete with into. I will probably add my longer, original version for it later.
I definitely don't own "The Cask of Amontillado."
A Fool's Requiem
"The Cask of Amontillado" by Edgar Allan Poe is a story about revenge, told by a man of the Montresor family. He is seeking revenge against a man named Fortunato, and even resorts to killing the other man. Perhaps, we shall take a glance into the last moments of the unwitting fool…
Ah, foolish- how so terribly foolish I have been and am!- for here I stand, incapable of movement, as a man I once believed to be my friend sealed me into the dark niche where I had believed a pipe of Amontillado resided. I was stunned; petrified until he had laid the first tier of masonry. At that time, I let loose a low moaning cry, which chilled even my own blood as it reverberated throughout the chamber. The villain paused for a single moment, then resumed his deadly task; a second and a third tier were laid before my frightened eyes. As he laid the fourth tier, I began to struggle, the chains wound 'round my waist rattling with my futile efforts. He pause, listening to my struggler until I grew tired and ceased them; then his work began once more. Five; six; seven; all I could do was count as layer upon layer of masonry was laid. Once again, he paused, this time throwing light into the niche with his flambeaux, though few beams actually reached me.
Here I loosed a succession of shrill screams, visibly startling him- he stumbled back as if my cries had actual force to them. I saw his shadow trembling; then, quite suddenly, he thrust his rapier into the shadows near me, causing my cries to double in volume. He fell back for a few moments, and when he stepped forward once more he began echoing my shouts, each one louder and fiercer than the last. He saw this as a game; upon realizing this, I fell silent.
Once again, his task was resumed. An eighth, a ninth, a tenth tier were layered on to the existing tiers. As he neared finishing the final tier, I allowed myself a sad laugh, a laugh that frightened me as much as the prospect of being walled in; it was the laugh of a dying man- or perhaps of a man already dead.
"Ha!-quite the joke, my good man- a fantastic jest. We will have many a laugh about it at the palazzo- ha! ha, ha!- over our wine- he!"
"The Amontillado!" he responded.
"He! He!- yes, the Amontillado. But is it not late? Will they not be waiting at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone." Ah, how frightened I was now…I could feel Death, with his cold fingers and dark shadow, sweeping over me, reaching for my soul with those skeletal fingers as I stand here, trapped by a man I once saw as my friend.
"Yes," said he, "let us be gone."
"Montresor, for the love of God!" Yes, yes, he was here, that dark cloaked being, reaching for me with clammy cold fingers, the lord of all that is dead! And, as he swept my soul away to the hellish world of the damned, I heard one last phrase from my tormentor-
"Yes! For the love of God!"
Luckily I didn't have to read it out loud to the class. Huzzah.
So, what do you think? Feel free to leave a comment!
