The Cask of Amontillado

By: Carlos Castro

What you are about to read is an adaptation of the story by Edgar Allan Poe: “The Cask of Amontillado.”

I had endured the insults of my friend Fortunato. I overlooked his arrogant character and some humiliations he put me through, but when he got to the point of what I considered an insult, I decided to take revenge.

I established it within myself: I would plan my revenge, but I wouldn’t do it immediately or in some way that would expose me.

First, if by taking revenge, I would end up harmed, such revenge would not repair the offense done to me.

Second, if Fortunato were to suffer because of my plan, without knowing that it was me who executed it, it would not make sense either.

I had to get out unscathed. He would have to suffer, and he would have to know that I was avenging him.

Although…Fortunato was a recognized knight, and, in many ways, worthy of being feared.

He prided himself on being the best wine connoisseur. And maybe he was. He was Italian, and his fame as a taster had a certain renown. This was a topic that united us, since I also had good taste, and on some occasions, I bought good wine in large quantities. He knew this was one of my greatest pleasures.

One afternoon, when it was getting dark, I met my friend at a Carnival. He had drunk a lot. He greeted me extravagantly and I laughed at the sight of this good man dressed as a clown. He wore a very tight, colorful suit, and crowned his head with a conical hat decorated with bells.

I was happy to see him… like never before.

“Dear Fortunato,” I said in a happy tone, “this is a lucky meeting.” I received a barrel of something they call amontillado, but I have my doubts.

“How?” he said. “Amontillado? A full barrel when we’re in the middle of the carnival?”

“That’s why I have my doubts,” I answered. “Since I couldn’t find a way to communicate with you, I’m on my way to Luchesi’s house. He is knowledgeable; surely he will tell me if…”

“Luchesi is unable to distinguish amontillado from sherry. We’re going over there.”

“No, dear friend, I do not want to interrupt your commitments. The cellars are humid, dark and cold.”

“Despite everything, let’s go. The cold doesn’t matter.”

Saying this, Fortunato took my arm, and we began to walk together.

The servants were not in the house. I asked them to enjoy the carnival, and not to return until the next day. There was no one to make noise. Neither did anyone who would listen.

I lit two torches, gave Fortunato one, and guided him. We went down the narrow corridors of the Montresors catacombs. My friend was very drunk. His love was hesitant, and the bells on his cap resonated with each of his strides.

“And the barrel?” he asked.

“It’s beyond,” I answered.

As we advanced through that underground labyrinth, the cold and humidity increased. He started coughing. I told him to go back, and that I could consult Luchesi, but he insisted.

We arrived at a bottomless hallway. Fortunato lifted the torch, in vain endeavoring to see anything in the recesses.

“Go ahead,” I told him. “There’s the amontillado.”

There were two iron rings on the wall. He was so drunk that he didn’t notice when I chained his feet. He only knew when he wanted to back away from me, and he couldn’t.

I took the mason’s spoon I carried for the planned purpose years ago. I took the stacked stones and the material that was ready and laid the first row, the second, the third, and the fourth.

Fortunato’s intoxication dissipated.

“What a good joke,” he told me. “We will talk about this and everyone in the palace will laugh.”

I put the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh row of stones.

A series of loud, high-pitched screams suddenly came from the chained man’s throat.

I hesitated for a moment. I shuddered, yes. But when I placed my hand on the massive stone wall, I breathed a sigh of relief. I answered the cries of those who were crying out, on the other side, until he finally fell silent.

It was already midnight, and my work was coming to an end.

Before placing the last stone, I spoke by name to my friend, but only a faint jingling answered.

This story comes with a lesson: our bad actions always have consequences. Many days may pass, perhaps years, but the offenses we do to others will end up hurting ourselves.

God wants to free us. That’s why he is so against our sin. He loves us and wants to prevent us from unnecessary suffering. Maybe they will not do to you what the protagonist did to Fortunato, but your sin will return in many forms: the rejection of your wife, the indifference of your children, closed doors to get a job, or a conscience that does not allow you to sleep.

Flee from all evil. Conform your actions to God’s will, so that the only thing that hunts you down is his mercy.

*Carlos Castro has a Masters in Psychotherapy and is an athlete and author. Together with his INMERSO team, they motivate and train evangelists and church planters in Mexico.