The Cask of Amontillado: Ending Rewrite

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
I had to rewrite the ending of Edgar Allan Poe's, "The Cask of Amontillado" and I really wanted some pointers. My creative writing class loved it, but a little more criticism will not hurt. :)

Submitted: April 04, 2012

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Submitted: April 04, 2012

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A hunter entices the bear into his desired destination where the inevitable awaits him. Hidden in plain sight, the bear is clueless and continues to saunter. He takes his “long life” for granted, and stubbornly will not consider the dangers around him because he is the greatest. The alpha male. However, this magnificent bear is not perfect and has his flaws. 

 

The hunter has been tracking this bear and planning for his demise for years now. He is patient and lures the bear with camouflaged temptations. All is well, and the bear smells the great prize approaching. He licks his lips and takes another unaware step to delusion, but suddenly the pain of reality punishes his front leg. Confused, he looks down to see the truth, the cliche bear trap. This all could have been avoided if he was a true, stupendous bear, but, instead, he was only a pigheaded fool.

 

I am that chained bear, and Montresor my hunter. 

 

“How could I have been so daft?” Brick by soul-crushing brick, the physical light is fading along with my equanimity. I start to demand, “Montresor, you will let me out now. Do you hear me?” No answer, and he adds another brick. “I hope you know that you are nothing more than a monster! Montre-” Violently, I start to cough. After a few difficult minutes, I finally catch my breathe. I become conscious of the one ray of light that is at my feet, and I quickly look up at the barbarian to see nothing more than his bloodthirsty hand remain. I aggressively pull on the chains over and over again, bellowing,  “Montresor!?” His life-holding hand is about to put the final brick in place, and I start to panic. “Montresor. Montresor! No! Monstresor! Don’t do this!” He pauses, but never says a word. I have a glimmer of hope and I calm my tone, “Montresor, let me go, please? I won’t tell anyone, I swear. Montresor?” The glimmer instantly vanishes and so does the ray of light. My heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach and the darkness only foreshadows my unquestionable death. 

 

I look down at the ground beneath me and, with surprisingly unexpected confidence, start to speak to myself, “I should have seen this coming. All these years.” Another inflamed coughing fit unwillingly forces its way out. I shout out to the unsuspecting world. “Montresor! I am sorry!” I start to cough again. 

 

I sigh followed by laughter, “I now know my faults, and it is ridiculous how this is how I finally realize them.” My will to survive has departed from my legs, arms, mind and soul. My muscles surrender to gravity and my body falls as far as the chains will let me. 

 

I close my eyes, “I’m sorry.”


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