Fernando Sica 5

th
IB Econ. 11
th
August 2013
The Wasted Amontillado
YES I DO, I do remember how it happened- I remember it to such detail, that no
madman could ever remember it with such detail. It frightens me to think about how it
happened, but I think about it every night.
It was carnival season and I was out in the street with my girlfriend, Vittoria. We were
heading back home from a party, intoxicated as ever, when we decided to enter some
catacombs for some privacy. Dark and damp, we were discovering a place that was
new to both of us. We werent there to discover anything but ourselves. I was
undressing Vittoria when a loud noise emerged. We heard some more noises and I
realized that the noises were getting closer and closer. We werent on our anymore.
Scared as ever, that is what we were. Quickly, put your dress back on I said as I
buttoned up my pants. We quickly put our clothes back on and ran across the
catacombs from one side to another looking for a place to hide, until we found one. It
was small and dark. There was not a single ray of light. Four walls with two people in
between them, we were on our own, safe from anyone finding us. There was nothing
other than us, or at least that was what we thought at first.
Vittoria was just as scared as I was, but we kept quiet and tried to remain as calm as
possible. We could sense that the voices were getting nearer and nearer as the
seconds passed. For every second that went by, a drop of sweat came out of me.
Nearer and nearer. The voices were each time getting nearer. We could hear a
conversation between an intoxicated man and someone else, talking about an
Amontillado. Even when they didnt speak, it felt so me as if they did. I was curious as
ever. Why were two men, at such hour so late at night, in the catacombs of Florence
talking about an Amontillado?
The voices kept getting nearer and nearer. So near they were that I could not
distinguish whether if the voices were real or just an illusion in my mind. Nonsense, I
thought, I am not a madman. Vittoria and I listened closely for the next seconds. It was
a sequence of words that came to a surprise to us both. They were talking about there
being an amontillado in the catacombs as the voices got nearer and nearer and nearer.
Vittoria moved and I consequently fell. Something cold and smooth and hard hit my
head. It was of the size of both my hands and round-shaped. I got hold of it without
having a clue of what it was. I stood back up with the object in my hand, clueless of
what it was.
The voices got nearer and nearer. The voices were so near that I could feel the
vibrations in the air. Near, so near and then a sudden silence as a cold hand touched
me. I knew well what Vittorias hands felt like and this was not one of her hands. This
was the intoxicated mans hand, as I heard the other man talk from afar. I extended my
Fernando Sica 5
th
IB Econ. 11
th
August 2013
left arm, with which I held the object, and smashed it into the intoxicated man. No
wonder I had hit his head, as the object smashed into pieces.
We stayed still and heard no signs of the other man, which attributed to Vittorias fear.
She said Giorgio, what happened? What just broke? and I answered Do not worry,
it was just a bottiglia that fell from my hand, knowing that I was lying to her and I was
going to have to do something about it.
I pondered on what to do with Vittoria. Knowing her innocence, I was certain that she
would turn us both in to the Polizia. I had little but nothing to lose. I doubted it at first,
but when my contemplation reached to an end, I touched her slowly until I found the
right moment. The right moment, that was, to do what I had to do, strangle her until
her heart beat no more. I forced myself out of the chamber, thrusting myself, with
little space, on top of the corpses to find myself with no way out. There was dry blood
everywhere. The night was cold. My body was getting cold. I couldnt figure out how I
had gotten in there in the first place. I sat for a while to think about it until I laid a hand
on one of the walls. It was moist. I had hope. Not only had I hope of getting out of the
chamber, but also to have done this deed with no one even finding out. I dissembled
the wall, brick by brick, and managed to get out.
Once I got out I thought about building the wall again so that no one would find out. I
thought about how to do it, and evaluated if it was really worth doing. Quite obviously,
it was rather convenient to build the wall once again, and so I did. It was built with
such precision that not a single human eye could see that wall and even imagine that it
was not built centuries ago. It was perfect. My plan was astonishing.
When I came out of the catacombs, I felt like as if I was possessed, I wanted to go on
and kill someone else. However, there you were, waiting for me and ready to arrest
me and load me onto your veicolo.
If you do go into the chamber to take out the corpses, please have in mind that not all
of the red fluid is blood, because some of it is also amontillado. It tastes great when
mixed with blood.