To Rest not in Peace essay

And when revenge has seeped to its point, a similar goal of avenging oneself is not a difficult thing to muster. While Montresor mounted the bricks on Fortunato’s catacomb, Fortunato was plotting a similar kind of revenge — if only he could escape! Silent curses formed in his mouth while vowing over the abundant mass of skeletons around him that revenge could be sweeter in the afterlife. Chest contracting with the final gasps of air, he finally withdrew into complete surrender. In pace requiescat. Montresor, on the other hand, celebrated his success on finally putting an end to Fortunato’s grave insults.

Nemo me impune lacessit. No one harms me with impunity. His unusual show of emotion over his feat delivered a slight shock on his inner being, but that did not linger for so long. As he paced over the stone floor of his palazzo, he pondered over what just took place. A potpourri of emotions engulfed him. There was euphoria, but there was also a tiny bit of remorse. He kept on thinking about Fortunato’s last words: For the love of God. So God does exist? Of the thousand injuries and insults he received from this friend of his, God’s love is existent?

He poured on his thoughts until his head was already swimming in the great depths of unconscious anxiety. He felt differently. He felt like falling into a very, very deep, dark, and damp old well — the thing that he had seen in his visit to the rural countryside being used by mothers and laborers for fetching water. Although this time, the well teemed not with water, but with a dim grip of stone walls and rocky floor. The collision with the rocky floor was not impacted on the soles of his feet, as he did not feel any physical manifestation of the sudden change in his atmosphere.

He only felt the damp and the growing pressure. “For the love of God, Montresor…” He jerked to his back and found Fortunato’s limp body amassing on the one part of the cold floor. It was Fotunato indeed, with arms flailing as if welcoming him to an embrace, and lips were curling to an almost negligible sneer of exultation. “For the love of God! What goes around comes around, Montresor. I have had enough of Amontillado. It burned me to death. And you…dear old friend…are once among my treasures. But things have changed. You deserve so much better, my friend! He! He! He! He! He! He! ”

The sound of Fortunato’s voice chilled Montresor. The shrieking burst of impulsive laughter created a dreaded flow on his nerves. While he stood there transfixed, he saw Fortunato’s other hand seize a long and shiny metal that looked like a sword. “But that’s my family’s! ” muttered Montresor as he tried to guess what would happen next. He turned his head to seek for a weapon, but he cannot see anything helpful. He thought of the trowel, but it was nowhere around him. He must have left it at the catacombs. Left with no choice, he tried to run an escape, but to his surprise, he seemed immobile and paralyzed.

He could not move! Fortunato’s weak body was advancing slowly, with the sword glittering under the faint light in the well. Slowly, Fortunato’s grip on the sword turned to his direction and with one move, he felt the cold clash of the metal go through his stomach. “For the love of God… He! He! He! ” And Montresor’s lips formed an O, screaming as his lungs could permit him, panting until his last breath rewarded Fortunato’s revenge. His last memory dawned on the face of Fortunato, laughing crazily but with somberly sad eyes. And he woke up with a start.