Soooo, this was originally for school. I naturally had the amazing idea to post this on FF. I'm hoping that you wonderful readers could give some CC on this so I can turn in an amazing piece. So, um, enjoy
Disclaimer: I am not Edgar Allen Poe because I am:
a) ALIVE!
b) female
c) and still in school.
The day of my death was one of the most entertaining nights of the year – the night of carnival. The air was calm and cool, not unusual for a February night. There was a party at a friend's house that I was attending. I had been wearing a jester's costume.
When Montresor appeared, I was heavily intoxicated. I greeted him warmly – more warmly than I usually would have and gestured for him to sit. Montresor was a quiet man. He did not talk much and was not very friendly. Sadly, this made him an easy target and was often the butt of my jokes. This time though, he began talking the second he sat down.
"My dear Fortunado," he began, "you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking today! But I have received a pipe of what passes as amontillado, and I have my doubts." Montresor was coming to ask for my advice on fine wines. My skills in wine could rival the skills of Bacchus, the Roman god of wine.
"How? Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And In the middle of carnival!" The fact that an entire pipe of amontillado wine could appear in the middle of carnival was amazing!
"I have my doubts, and I was silly enough to pay the full amontillado price without consulting you in the matter. You were not to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain."
"Amontillado!" I began fantasizing about my favorite wine.
"I have my doubts"
"Amontillado!" I imagined the beautiful color and sweet taste swirling around in my glass.
"And I must satisfy them." He sounded slightly irritated.
"Amontillado!" I decided at this point that I must have some amontillado.
"As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi." My blood began to boil at the mention of that man's name. He constantly tries to outdo me in my connoisseurship in wines. "If anyone has a critical turn, it is he. He will tell me –" I cut him off.
"Luchesi cannot tell amontillado from sherry." I snarled.
"And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your own"
In my intoxicate haze, I had become angry and insisted on leaving at once to taste the wondrous amontillado.
"Come, let us go." I said.
"Whither?"
"To your vaults."
"My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive you have an engagement. Luchesi –" He will not sway me. In my drunken state, I decided that I will have a glass of amontillado, even if it kills me.
"I have no engagement; come."
There ya go! Please review! Flames are used to make s'mores! Anyone who reviews gets pumpkin pie (yum)!
~Mysti