Tomb
*based on Edgar Allen Poe's "The Cask of Amontillado"
hat a fool I have been! I am dressed for the part even, in this absurd carnival
costume. All of his kindness, it was lies to trick me here. I must have revenge for his treachery! He
has trapped me, chained me to the wall of this dank catacomb. I have done nothing to deserve this...
this punishment is deserving of Luchesi!
Oh my head hurts. That is my fault though, having accepted all of those drinks from the Carnival and then from him the draughts of Medoc and De Grave. The De Grave, what was it that he showed me after my toast? A trowel that was it. Oh my God, a trowel. Does he plan to seal me in here? I see him now. He is building a wall. I must get out!
The chain won't yield. I have wasted all of my energy. Now the cold is becoming too much. Light! I will never escape; his wall is too high, and I am too weak to free myself from this chain. This cold will be the death of me, as my wife said. I scream in frustration. The small chamber is driving away my sanity. I can feel it slipping away with the light from the other side of the wall. I scream again, and keep on screaming until my body's deprivation of oxygen forces me to stop. He too has been screaming, louder and longer than me. Why does he scream?
Perhaps he is the one who has lost his sanity. Perhaps this is all trickery, and I am too stupid and drunk to realize it. I laugh at him, "A very good joke indeed-an excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh about it at the plazzo... over wine."
"The Amontillado!" He replies.
Perhaps I am correct. It is all a jest. He will let me out of here before I die of cold. I laugh again," Yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting late? Will they not be awaiting us at the plazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone."
"Yes," he says," Let us be gone."
I am becoming worried he has really lost his senses, and has forgotten my illness. I worry he will leave me in the cell, with only one block left to be filled in, too long. Now I shout," For the love of God, Montresor!"
His reply is distant, he must be leaving me. I don't hear his words. The light seems distant too. The darkness of the cell closes in on me, and finally the cold seems to be abating.
Reader's
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