Confuzzlement's Purest Form

The Unopened Cask(et)

Disclaimer:

This is basically A Telltale Heart AU for A Cask of Amontillado, both stories written by Edgar Allan Poe. So... not that original, I gotta say.

*****

If you were to bring up Montresor in a conversation these days, regardless of the audience, there would be awkward glances sent all around. That, sadly enough, is the social fate of any man unfortunate enough to behold such a tragedy as he.

He used to be a respected and, dare I say, feared man, back before this sad event occurred. After the lamentable disappearance of Fortunato---presumed either scoundrel or dead depending on the source---Montresor grew to be most esteemed and was quickly found climbing the ranks of society.

Soon, however, his mental health began to decline...

*****

Montresor was observing his family's bones when it first occurred. Ever since Fortunato had disappeared, he had taken to coming down to the catacombs often. Not for Fortunato's sake, mind you, but for a peculiar want of simply being with his ancestors.

He sat there, so immersed in his musings that you could almost mistake him for one of the dead. A violent flinch dispersed this illusion as the chamber's silence was pierced. Was that... coughing?

Starting off faint, it was an awful, hacking cough, lined with gurgles that hinted at mucus. The sound was nearly imperceptible by normal circumstances, but catacombs such as those have a way of distorting sound, magnifying and echoing it out of proportion. The lord shrugged it off. Perhaps a servant had wandered down to fetch some wine for tonight's supper.

Rubbing the beaten gold band that rested on his knuckle, Montresor chuckled to himself. After all, the former Lady Fortunato was bound to have a fine taste, given her first husband. Most likely, she had been the one to send down a servant.

Yes, that must be it.

But... maybe he should be getting back. It would do no good for the lord of the household to be away for too long.

And if the cadence of his footsteps seemed to quicken... well, that could always be contributed to sound distortion also.

*****

Next, it overcame the kitchens. Then, the downstairs parlor. Soon, the entire ground floor seemed to resonate with harsh noise. It spread like a disease, an unseemly growth, grating to the ear.

Montresor tried avoidance. No longer would he be found wandering the lower floors unless deemed absolutely necessary, sometimes going as far as to steer clear of the stairwell itself. He kept up the pretense of being untroubled, however, for everyone else who occupied the house appeared to go about their lives without bother. If they could put up such an impressive front, then so could he.

Before long, there wasn't a space in the house that wasn't occupied by the ghastly coughing. And once this was accomplished, it didn't stop there. No, without new territory to conquer the only thing left to do for something so evil was to get louder. 

With decreasing frequency, Montresor would attempt yet again to pin the blame on servants. He tried---and, more often than not, failed---to convince himself that it was perfectly explainable, perfectly expected. All that is needed is the slightest chill in the air for peasants to start dropping like flies and develop sickness.

Maybe that is the cause.

*****

"Sì?"

"I'd like to speak with Dr. Savona, per favore."

"Connecting now."

*****

Lady Montresor hung up the receiver with a sigh. Mentally exhausted after that troubling call with the doctor, lead filled her bones. Her husband's state had been worrisome for quite some time now, and it was definitely high time she did something about it. 

"Cara?"

The Lady jolted slightly at the sound of Montresor's voice. It came unexpected, for his more recent tendencies had him rarely speak at all.

"Sì, amore mia?" she called back delicately, careful to disguise the tremor in her voice. It wouldn't do to upset him, after all.

*****

Montresor stood at the very top of the stairs, observing the odd interaction beneath him. He watched as his wife let in a doctor, flanked by two burly policemen, all pleasantly engaged in small-talk. Another violent fit of coughing accosted his ears, and he gave a slight wince in response. Fortunato's lungs were particularly agitated that day.

He silently retreated back to his chamber, awaiting the arrival of the visitors. They were sure to have come for him, sure to have pieced together the puzzle of his crime, sure to have finally figured out the truth. But he was smarter.

If he could trick Fortunato all those years ago, who says he couldn't deceive these men now?

*****

Some time later, Montresor was positive he had succeeded. He entertained his guests, playing the gracious host like it was a role born to him, and not borne heavily by him. They all seemed at ease, and pleased by the refreshments given. It wasn't every day you get offered a glass of amontillado for simply making a house call.

But... even after all this, Montresor soon grew weary of their presence. The three men never gave any signs that they felt as if they had perhaps outstayed their welcome, despite his multiple hintings at the fact. They simple sat there and smiled, and chatted, and nodded.

He was starting to suspect that they were hiding something! Head already pounding from the incessant coughing, his thoughts began to muddle. But still, he continued. His chatter gained a fervor, pitch of voice running rampant.

What if-?

But no, he hid his tracks too well. Surely they could not-

Or maybe...

There was no other explanation. These men- no, these demons, knew exactly what they were doing. What he had done. They were in possession of all the facts, of that he was sure.

And yet they made no move to confront him.

Oh, how this drove him mad!

That the beings before him would dare to make a mockery of Lord Montresor, dare to act as if this were all some silly game! How he longed to brick them up as he had Fortunato.

Fortunato...?

"Fortunato!" He was to blame for this! His damnable noise was the root of all Montresor's issues. If the man would just.

"Shut UP!"

The room went silent.

End of Part 1

A/N

I'll keep the story going in a part 2, but that scene end was just too good to pass up to not lead to a next chapter. And even though this was written as an english assignment (We had to create a sequal to A Cask of Amontillado when studying gothic liturature), I still had a lot of fun making it.

Two of my friends, PotatoGamingPower6 and Jayde2298, posted their own sequals on their accounts, so feel free to check them out!

Geros Ilas!