Short Story Of Montresor

“Do not be uneasy about me. I am among friends. I will close with great respects. Your affectionate father. Farewell”

It seems like every passing day there is a shadow that is after me. I’m left with parts of me eaten away and left my mind corrupted from its everyday thoughts. The darkness steadily dissolves me away from the eyes that are known to be inquisitive. The burden that was left on me has more pressure than I expected for what i have completed. I discovered that revenge is made to be short lived. What i did was completely horrifying. The inferior thing is that I was able to acquire with my crime. It doesn’t matter what time it is, everyday there will always be a small voice in my head reminding me of the defenseless cries performed by fortunato. The man that I caused to perish, immersed in the catacombs. A month has passed since fortunato's disappearance, and the town still wonders where he has disappeared to. Examining the difficulty of mourning families caused me to really think, specifically today. The events leading up to fortunato's death played in my mind like a movie. It sends me back to the time when I was young and no one loved me, including my mother. When fortunato entered my life he made a big mistake which ended him in misery.

“You are what?!” Most of the time wherever I go, the same tone follows me; a cross between shock and disgust.

“Oh, my. Do we have an individual here?” he sang, as if I were a child.

Fortunato into the catacombs of his home to carry out his plans. First he caters to

"You'll be alright, Beka. This is a great opportunity for you to make new friends" my mom said when she broke the news.. When my mom told me we were moving she said were moving to a small town, but she never really told me how small the town was.

He seems to not believe me but this man I met at the gym has been following me ever since I met him. “louis I swear there is a man after me, I have been seeing him at night, I really think he is trying to kill me”

“Thank you, thank you all so much for coming on this momentous occasion for myself and my family. My siblings, Madison, Sheridan, Maddux, and Bennett, especially, want me to convey their appreciation.

but I'm certain he's in the vicinity. Thanks. - Who are you calling now? - This Martin guy.

With his ego expanding, Fortunato swiftly declines and continues until the end of the hall. Montresor leads him into a small room and chains him to a wall. Due to his intensive drinking, Fortunato doesn’t quite connect the dots to the cask, the bones, the chains, and the fact that Montresor is walling him in until there is only a small window within the concrete wall. It is then, that Fortunato finally sees the big picture. Montresor waits to close up the wall until he throws a torch just to hear the jingling of the bells on Fortunato’s hat confirming the death of Fortunato.

Revenge can be a primitive justice. Paying someone back for their harmful actions can feel quite rewarding at times. In Edgar Allan Poe’s spine-chilling tale, Poe creates a mood of suspense and horror to accompany his theme of revenge.

You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible. Besides, there is Luchresi --" says Montresor after Fortunato ’s coughing fit.

After years of feeling nothing but the relief, it finally began to taunt him the final words of his friend "For the love of God, Montresor!". Montresor began to think having Fortunato alive would not have been such a bad thing. Although there were words of consequence there were some memories that were not all that bad. So Montresor lives on replaying that of the everlasting silence and the sound of Fortunato calling his deer friends name “Montresor”. All of which will torment him

“You’re moving to your mother’s house coming October, end of story,” my father stated in a miserable voice.

It had been only 3 months since Montresor sealed Fortunato's fate in a dark, tenebrous cell down in his catacombs. Montresor now often finds himself woken up from his slumber, in a pool of sweat, with the guilt of his past. Sometimes he could hear the terroristic screams and wails in his mind, other times, though, he could see Fortunato lying in his motley, still wishing for just a taste, of a cask of Amontillado. Montresor could not go through his daily activities without being reminded of what he had done. It had haunted him.