Rewrite-the Cask of Amontillado

It was in the middle of carnival season when Montresor approached me. In retrospect, I should have noticed the deviant twinkle in his eye. Alas, it was a time of celebration, and I had had much to drink, which seemed to deter me from Montresor’s true intentions that evening. At the time, I was enjoying myself at the carnival festivities, wearing the attire of a jester, complete with cap and bells. Montresor approached me and I was delighted to see him.

We chatted, and he informed me that he had purchased a pipe of Amontillado. He told me that he was not certain as to whether or not it was true Amontillado and asked me to look at it for him. Being a connoisseur of fine wines, I was intrigued. Montresor then noted that, since I was occupied, he was going to call upon Luchresi to assist him with his dilemma.

I was quite taken aback by this, as Luchresi cannot compare to my taste.

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Montresor was about to depart, but I was adamant and won my way to Montresor’s vaults. I subsequently grabbed Montresor’s arm, and we made our way to his dwelling. Once again, I should have perceived right away that something was about, considering the entire home was empty. However, I brushed it off, assuming that all of the help was out being merry. Montresor obtained two candles off the wall, handing one to me, and we made our way down into the catacombs. By this point, the intoxication I was experiencing seemed to worsen.

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Holding onto Montresor for support, I inquired as to how far we would be going. He informed me that20it was much farther down, and, as I looked at the nitre upon the walls of the murky and sodden catacomb, a coughing fit took hold of me.

It was then that Montresor attempted to have us turn back. However, his diligent attempts at making me turn around just made me want to go forward even more. I was not about to willingly allow Luchresi to take my spot as the finest wine connoisseur in the area. Handing me a leak of Medoc, we continued down the dingy catacombs. He would continue to feed me wines for the duration of the walk, all the while my intoxication worsening. For much of our journey, the only sound to be heard was that of the bells upon my hat jingling, along with our footsteps. Looking back on the evening, I ought to have realized something was stirring in Montresor’s head. The morose look on his face worsened with each step we took. At last, we made it to the Amontillado.

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Rewrite-the Cask of Amontillado. (2016, Dec 26). Retrieved from

Rewrite-the Cask of Amontillado

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