Each year, Mrs. Van Wingerden holds an annual writing contest in her honors English classes to see who can write the best prequel to “A Cask of Amontillado,” the classic short story written by Edgar Allen Poe. This harrowing tale of revenge has been beloved by classes for years, so read on to see how the two contest winners set the stage for what is to come.
“The Cask of Amontillado” Prequel
By Ryan Rigor
Walking up towards the carnival, as was I, the realization of my so-to-come actions stamped through me intensely. Reality struck as it truly came into perspective the horror I was about to unveil. However, thinking again about what happened last week gave me the sudden push to commit to my original plan; remembering what he did to me. The events folded out as such…
On Monday of last week, I stepped into my residence after a two-day vacation, thinking normally as if nothing had changed from the original setting. I tranced into my kitchen looking for something to eat. I grasped a plain apple, about to bite into the sweet succulent fruit. As I started to chew on the piece, I noticed a very faint and lackluster smell arising in my kitchen. Thought nothing of it I did, and went away with my fruit. As I sat down in my living room, I noticed that the familiar stench had brought itself up again, but this time more prominent. It was rancid as if something had just so suddenly perished in my home.
“Great, a beautiful new aroma I’d love to keep” I commented to myself.
I tried to ignore it by thinking about my loving cat Francesco, who I hadn’t seen in so long it seemed. I set a man named Fortunato to look after him, as he was one of the only men I really met. Fortunato was a man who loved his wine so very dearly, almost every time I saw him, a wine bottle was at his company. Unbeknownst to me, however, this fact would help me in the long run. At the time, however, I was solely worried that he would be drunk while watching Francesco, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I already didn’t like him much. For what reason, not so sure, but I never got around to him.
“Francesco! Where are you?”
Animals can’t talk, so be it, but Francesco was a different kind of animal. He was the most loving and caring soul I’d have met. So when he didn’t come to me after the better side of a minute, a sheet of unease draped over me.
“How great,” I attempted to humor my way through anxiety, “Francesco has run away.”
I started searching around for him. After weaving through every crevice possible, I noticed the stench increased near my window. I sped, without my full foot touching the ground, over to where it was emitting, and went to open my window. I expected it was something that Francesco had killed. However, I was met with two different scarring incidents: an abysmal and putrid smell of rot, and the horrible sight of Francesco sprawled across the ground, deceased. My heart tripped inside of me as if I was the one killed. My eyes seemed to blur, and everything became indefinite. Waves of different thoughts flushed me. I immediately thought, however, of how this happened. I then had it.
Fortunato.
That man committed this atrocity. After the thoughts of sadness and despair trickled away from my brain, new thoughts of revenge and satisfaction entered. That entire night, after I somberly dismissed Francesco’s body, I left my window open and let the outside world spread into my home. I did this as an attempt to drown out the thoughts of vengeance I was receiving. This revealed to be unsuccessful, however. Every person I heard, every annunciation made, I could hear. The only difference was that I was hearing the words, not the meaning behind them. My brain glossed over every distraction, as the vivid attack thoughts controlled me.
Over the course of the following days, I carefully planned out how I would execute the revenge plot. Days went by quickly, then the time came. As I left my house for Carnival, everything circulated in my head. All of the things I did felt so vivid. Everything I touched seemed as if I was feeling every precise molecule in the object and it all seemed so much more in place and real; a product of my unease yet calmness. I played out everything how I would’ve liked it to. Time flew and eventually I landed in the center of the carnival and embraced the welcoming air that seemed so innocent, yet withheld a secret so devious.
“Oh my word. What a beautiful day it is, “ I say to myself. “Surely, there can be no place for misfortunes today!”
I see Fortunato strolling towards me.
Prequel: “The Cask of Amontillado”
By Brody Miller
The Grand Room was vibrant with paintings and statues stretched across the walls and yet I found the most intimidating thing in the room was the cruel merchant sitting in front of me. “What a wonderful agreement we have finally come to,” I said with passion. The tension was high at the start of the meeting, but finally, it came to a close. Excitement fills the air and the smell of success is vibrant. As Giuseppe shook my hand, his ice-cold touch contradicted his positive, but serious personality, and the deal was finally sealed. I finished the biggest business deal in my family’s history the “impenetrable deal” as Guiseppe liked to say, that would take over central Italy’s markets and make us all very rich. My new wine crop was the talk of the town, and soon, the talk of everywhere. With the meeting over and Giuseppe gone, I went outside to take a deep breath of the fresh air, and my wife, Maria, joined me for a glass of Merlot to go out and oversee our vineyard. The taste of the liquor was enhanced by the sweet taste of success. For once, fortune would be felt in my family. Upon telling Maria of the success of the deal, I smelt the worst thing I could’ve ever imagined. I looked out into the distance and panic rose as I saw smoke roll across the fields. Immediately, I hurriedly shouted at Maria “Notify the guards, get the men, and prepare buckets to fight the blaze.” I sprinted over to the stables. The small building held many horses, but I hopped on the fastest one and got ready to set out for the fire. CLIP CLOP, CLIP CLOP, echoed into the dark night air. The hooves smashing against the ground shook my entire body. I urged the horse to go faster, shouting “Come on, push yourself!” As I got closer to the fire, it seemed more like a tsunami crashing over the fields in an instant. It rose into a giant inferno and the flames spewed far and wide. It stretched hundreds of meters and the wind was picking up. The heat prickled the hair on my body. Watching the burning of my money crops started to burn a hole in my heart. As I looked out in the distance I noticed a foreign sign on the field, stuck into the middle of a plant of grapes. I urged my horse to go over, and it read, “I wish you success and good fortune.” Ideas flashed of why this could’ve happened, but now I was certain, it must’ve been Fortunato. The man whose betrothed, Maria, I stole. I couldn’t bear to watch the flames consume my family’s future any longer. I turned my horse away and rode back to my residence. I passed the guards carrying water and tools to fight the fire. They would undoubtedly be fighting the fire all night, but I couldn’t bear witness. I arrived at the mansion and without speaking a word to my servants, I ran across the grand hall and corridors straight to my room. Jumping into the comfort of my bed made the realizations set in worse and cold drops infiltrated my eyelids. The pain of it all was the perfect remedy to go to sleep and try to forget the devastation.
I awoke to an unchanged room, but somehow overwhelming grief set in. I got up and walked out to the balcony. The sight of burned crops filled my eyes. Everything I have worked towards discovering and this entire business venture is gone. All of the Montessor house’s wealth was now literally smoke in the air. The burn line stopped just before the house and the green beautiful bushes contradicted the battered fields perfectly. My wife walked in on the balcony pushing the glass door open. “The field is completely ruined, but you have a guest waiting for you in town,” she said to me. I agreed to head out to town to visit this guest and figure out what happened to my vineyard. I got to town and the fountain in the middle of the piazza spewed beautiful water into the air. The shops filled the piazza with a sense of life that was missing in my day. The townspeople were bustling about the news of what happened last night, the fire that burned down their noble’s precious crop. I locked eyes with the guest who was looking for me. Luchesi, a famous winemaker in this town, came up to me with a very serious look on his face. “I believe I know who did this,” He stated. He took a moment and then followed up, “It was Fortunato! He informed me himself. He has never gotten over you taking his Maria away from him. Once he heard of this deal you had with Guiseppe, rage overtook him. He couldn’t let you have all the fortune.” With this, he confirmed my suspicions. The news hit me like a ton of bricks. “I must meet with Fortunato at once!” I demanded from him. Luchesi’s face turned white, “I’m afraid he has left.” Hearing that I couldn’t avenge myself tore me apart. I swore that I would get revenge if I ever saw him again and put him through as much pain as he did to me. I ended the talk with Luchesi. I sent out bounties to nearby counties and planned for the inevitable fallout of the trade deal. I may have lost my family’s riches, but I will seek revenge one day on Fortunato.
The Drumbeat 