Beyblade Fic & Poe Paper
Feb. 23rd, 2006 06:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elvenavariTitle: KAH1786
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
avari_maethor
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Kai muses over things as he is locked in his prison.
Warnings: Non-slash, some adult language.
Disclaimers: I do not own Kai or Beyblade, just used him for the story cause I thought he fit best. I don’t own the words in Italics either. They belong to a guy who is sadly dead, Cameron Duncan.
Kai sat on the edge of his bed staring out of the bar doors, his fingers folded. He’d been here for eight months now. And he had never thought about being free more than now.
Freedom… is taken so much for granted
Who knew that the simple pleasures in life… walking through the park on a warm afternoon, laughing with friends, getting ice cream, would be the things you missed the most.
You don’t appreciate the small things you have
Kai stared down at the number printed on his shirt. It was the same shirt he was required to wear everyday. He was only known as a number here, no one really cared to know his name. It would only cause pain in the end.
My number is KAH1786. A number that has been printed on all my records since the very beginning of my life here on this earth
Inside this cell that had been assigned to him were the basic needs; a bed, a bathroom, there was also a window. But he could have done without that. It only served as torture to be able to see outside, but not able to go out into it.
Sentenced to imprisonment
He stood before the camera holding a sign that also held his number. The flash was bright and he scowled as another picture was taken. A guard came dragging him away after he took a step forward yelling at the photographer.
I didn’t kill anybody, I didn’t perform a crime,
Looking back he could recount each time he’d said no to a drink or cigarette. Those things he knew would always bring downfall.
Hell, I’ve never even drank a drop of liquor nor smoked a cigarette…
All that saying no, and look where it had gotten him.
…Never looked twice at drugs.
He’d always had a clear view of his future. Kept up his studies, that was the only way his parents would let him beyblade.
I’m what you call a 100-percent straight shooter…
And now here he was. Eight months in here with very little opportunities to practice, all the time he had spent training to be the best was now wasted.
…but I’m in here, this hellhole, my personal four-wall prison.
Laying back on his bed he sighed. Before he could stop it, his hand went to the edge of his cap.
All because of this. This thing.
Kai’s finger ran along the outside of his cap. The only thing that hid his demon from the world.
This demon I must care for and nurture, for this is why I’m here.
He turned over staring at the wall as he curled up. Everything had been going so great, why now? He’d just won the World Championships in Beyblading… now it looked like he would never get to beyblade again.
It’s amazing how something so simple can destroy so much.
His lunch was brought by the same guard that came each morning. After looking at the food for a moment he pushed it away, his stomach deciding against eating what this place called ‘food’.
The meals here are horrible. Everybody says it.
Of course… he couldn’t not eat their meals forever. No it truly was amazing what one would to live.
It’s amazing how much a human being will endure just to survive.
Getting up, against his better judgment he walked over to the window and stared out.
It’s always the same here.
The view hadn’t changed, it was still the outside world he could not go into.
Always.
Kai glanced over at the wall and his spirits fell or lifted by what he saw, he wasn’t really sure how to feel about it.
I have a tendency to feel sorry for myself…
Names, so many names carved into the wall, lines showing how long some of them had spent there. Whether they had gotten out or died while they had still been in there was lost. Either way, all that was left were their names.
…but I’m constantly reminded of the other who join me here.
His fingers ghosted over the carved indentions in the wall.
These people.
In this place there was no one over the age of 21, except for the guards of course.
They’re only young.
How many kids had come through here but thought it irrelevant to leave their mark in this place?
They, too, have committed no crime.
His eyes lingered on two of the carvings, one of which he had done himself. The one’s that read, ‘Not Guilty’.
For everyone here is innocent.
Kai looked up from his hands as he heard the guard approaching. It was the same everyday. Things never changed around here.
I go through the “day in, day out” routine.
8:15 a.m. never a minute later.
The head guard is so punctual.
Kai held out his wrist, used to this by now. The guard picked up the cuff and secured it around his wrist. The cuff was connected to a chain that was hooked to the wall. It allowed him to move freely about the room but never any further.
He comes in on every morning, binds me to my room.
Of all the things he hated about this place, he hated this the most. Much like his bit beast, Dranzer, he was meant to be free.
It’s a punishment I must face as part of my sentence.
He fell back onto his bed suddenly feeling tired. This chain always did that, soon he probably wouldn’t be able to move.
It’s like Kryptonite to Superman.
His fist clenched as he thought about the chain.
I hate it.
His eyes drifted over the familiar ceiling tiles, slowly sitting up judging how the chain made him feel today. His spirits lifted a bit when he didn’t feel as tired as the day before.
The only thing I have to go by is that it’s all for my own good.
Kai picked up a book his father had brought him and started flipping through it although his thoughts were not on the words.
I suppose it’s my fault I’m in here…
He’d always been a bit of a trouble maker, nothing to serious, just enough of a smart ass to get on people’s nerves. He’d lived life to the fullest… now it seemed to be taking it’s revenge for the chances he took.
…for years I’ve spent toying with fate. Maybe fate has chosen to toy with me.
In which case, fate has served this purpose well.
He had always loved watching Dranzer battle, she took part of him and put it right there, giving him the ultimate thrill.
I was so free.
Laughter of times past rung in his ears as he stood.
The world my playground, the soil my arena.
He stared over the edge of the building, one more inch and he would fall. One more inch was all it would take, to end the pain, to get out of this prison.
Fate has pushed me so far as to see my life teeter on the edge of a building.
Kai stepped back, away from the retaining wall that kept anyone from getting to close to the edge.
But I would never jump.
He sat with his back against the wall flipping through the picture book his mother had brought him during her last visit. His favorite pictures were taken out and laid on the bed.
I live for my parents, for the people I love.
There were so many pictures. Pictures from much happier times.
For when I die, it is not me who will be affected.
His eyes landed on a picture of him, his mother and father. It had been taken just after his 13th birthday. They had went to the park, a nice passer by had taken the picture.
It’s the ones I leave behind.
Kai stared out the open door. What he would give to be able to just get up and leave!
This will probably be the only goddamn prison that leaves the doors unlocked.
He walked up to the edge of the door.
It’s a torture that each inmate must face.
And stared out, even the air changed outside his cell, it only served to mock his imprisonment more.
But I dare not leave.
Shaking his head slightly he stepped back, returning to his bed.
Not even for freedom.
He once again picked up the book his father had brought, then set it down and paced back and forth across the room.
The worst part about being in here is how time ticks by incessantly, so slowly.
He spun the chain gently watching the rhythmic movements.
Being caged doesn’t mean that time stops, for we all live our lives by the clock.
Moving back to the bed he pulled more of the chain into his hands, spinning it once more only this time like a jump rope.
And so too do I live mine, but much slower.
He sat in the furthest corner of the room from where his chain bound him to the wall and pulled wishing it would break and free him.
Seconds feel like minutes, minutes like hours, hours like days, days like months.
Laying on his stomach he flipped through both the picture book and the reading book, hoping somehow they would form something new, but of course they never did.
It’s like chasing a rainbow to no resolve.
Closing them both he flung them away watching as they hit the wall.
You just chase it.
Then he turned so that he was once more staring at the ceiling.
I’ve found the best way to pass the time is to sleep…
The chain was effecting him again
…because when I sleep, I dream.
His eyes slowly drifted closed.
And when I dream, I can rise above the walls of the prison.
He sat up quickly on a hill, looking around. Everything was so green, there was one tree, and then nothing but sky, the city far below him.
I dream of waking up among lilies and getting that feeling in my body…
Standing he turned to the tree and started to climb, he closed his eyes pausing for a moment when he was deep in the green leaves to take a deep breath.
…that only comes when you’re by yourself.
Suddenly there were more trees and he was able to climb from one to the next.
I dream of the simple things that possess so much beauty…
He ran his hands over the bark, closing his eyes at the feel.
…for even the most unfortunate man.
He stood on the edge of a lake, his eyes still closed. There was no sound in this place, only him.
I dream of listening to the whisper of my breathing…
His eyes slowly opened.
…paying attention to the function more so than at any routine moment.
A black swan swam by, smaller ones following in a line behind.
I dream of seeing things so beautiful that it hurts to watch them.
Sunlight danced through the leaves of the trees.
Freedom is taken so much for granted…
Casting shadows on the ground. He never thought those shadows were anything but right now… they were beautiful.
…when you don’t appreciate the small things that you have.
Kai stared out and his perfect world while he stood by the large oak tree. It was just him and the one tree again. Closing his eyes in sorrow he pulled his wrist out only to be held by his chains.
You know, the hardest part about dreaming is having to wake up…
His eyes slowly opened from his dream, they widened when he realized that he was still here. The steady beep of the heart monitor greeted his ears. His hand unconsciously came up and removed the cap that hid his now bald head from the world.
…because when I awake…
The doctor came in writing things on his clipboard labeled, KAH1786. Kai Alexander Hiwatari, age: 17, born 1986.
Kai stared out the door… the open door of the hospital he could never walk through.
…I’m still here.
O-O Author Note O-O
For those who didn’t get it, Kai is in the hospital with leukemia.
And now for the real good stuff! My latest paper in english had to be on Edgar Allen Poe. My professor gave us choices as to what our essay could be about. I chose the first choice, using the house in the story we chose to show the pyshcology of it. For this one we could not use 'The Fall of the House of User' which has the most psychology in it. So I chose my fave Poe story that we had read, 'The Cask of Amontillado'.
So as with all his paper's Dr. Frazier requires a minimum of 750 words. Well I finished my paper, double spaced it and all that jazz then went to the word count tool. I was at 649. My jaw dropped. I still needed 101 words! Okay well I didn't panic, my paper wasn't due until the next day. Hehe. I had about 6 people in the library wher I work proofread and try to give me ideas, then my roommate, and a couple of other friends. They all said the same thing! "Olivia you have said everything you need to say. I don't know what to tell you to put." Argh! No! By the next day at 10 am (my paper was due at 12) I was starting to panic until one of my friends shook me and said, "Olivia! It's okay. Dr. Frazier has what? 80 other students? He's not gonna go through and count every word!" I didn't like it but I had to agree... and there was nothing else I could put. So I turned in my paper 100 words short.
So yesterday came and we got our papers and exams back. I made a C on my exam. I left 8 of 30 blank because I didn't know them, but I only missed one of the one's I did answer. Yay! Go me! But no... I true magic happened when I got out of class and I looked at the last page of my essay for my grade.
A-! MY JAW HIT THE FLOOR! I SWEAR IT DID! A B is the highest I have ever gotten on an essay in Dr. Frazier's class but now I have this A-! Oh my... I was so... excited. I couldn't stop smiling. So here you guys go, my Poe Essay that got an A- from a professor that RARELY gives A's.
To Your Vaults
The recesses of the mind have always puzzled and intrigued mankind, we love nothing more than a good mystery. Edgar Allen Poe gives us the best mysteries of all and leaves us wanting more. It is the subtle hints at some greater plot, the unanswered questions he leaves, and the small details that make us part of his stories, that capture, and that hold us. It is like in the beginning we have been led into the darkness of a house or mind and chained, forced to listen to this amazing storyteller tell his story.
The house in 'Cask of Amontillado' is the center of everything, in a way it is the mind itself. The brain inside our heads is a muscle and is the co-supporter of the body, its counter part being the heart, without one the body cannot function. The tunnels of the brain are much like the vaults that Montresor leads Fortunato into to get to the catacombs where he walls him up. “I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to Fortunato, bowed him through several suites of rooms to the archway that led into the vaults. I passed down a long and winding staircase, requesting him to be cautious as he followed. We came at length to the foot of the descent and stood together on the damp ground of he catacombs of the Montresors.”
The catacombs, which are deep inside the house, are like the deep recesses of the mind. The deep recesses are where things lay buried and fester. One could almost call the niche that Montresor seals Fortunato in an oubliette, which is a place one puts someone
or something they want to forget about. The bricks that Montresor uses to wall Fortunato up can be seen as the walls we use to close things off with in our minds. A true mason knows that if one brick is out of place the whole structure of what he is building is faulty. Montresor makes the mistake of not finishing his wall so that he can still hear Fortunato’s cries.
The house, while it is the center of everything, is also a system of complete reversals, much like Montresor’s own words. Because he had been planning this for an unspecified amount of time, Montresor had told his servants to take the night off, that he would not be back. He does return bringing Fortunato with him, had the servants been there they might have reported Montresor taking Fortunato down into the catacombs and then not coming back up with him.
David Reynolds, who is a critic of Poe, explains, “Reverse psychology governs even Montresor’s advance preparations for the murder: The palazzo is empty because he has told his servants they should not sir from the house since he would be away all night-an order “sufficient, I well knew, to insure their immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon as my back turned.” Montresor tried to convince Fortunato to not come to his house to try the wine but Fortunato insists because Montresor tricked him.
It is in that very house that perhaps Fortunato insulted Montresor, which led to Montresor wanting to kill him. It is in that house that the plans are concocted and then carried out. As I said before, the house is the center of everything, it has the winding passages and the deep rooms that will hold all the secrets. It is the place where Fortunato meets his end and as Montresor says, “In pace requiescat”, or “rest in peace”.
Works Cited
DiYanni, Robert. Literature: Approaches to Fiction, Poetry, and Drama. Boston: McGraw-Hill. 2004.
Poe, Edgar Allen. “The Cask of Amontillado.” DiYanni 136-141.
Reynolds, David. “On ‘The Cask of Amontillado’.” DiYanni 179-181.
Wow... it really doesn't look like it would be 4 pages on here does it? The wonders of double spacing...
Author:
avari_maethorRating: PG-13
Summary: Kai muses over things as he is locked in his prison.
Warnings: Non-slash, some adult language.
Disclaimers: I do not own Kai or Beyblade, just used him for the story cause I thought he fit best. I don’t own the words in Italics either. They belong to a guy who is sadly dead, Cameron Duncan.
Kai sat on the edge of his bed staring out of the bar doors, his fingers folded. He’d been here for eight months now. And he had never thought about being free more than now.
Freedom… is taken so much for granted
Who knew that the simple pleasures in life… walking through the park on a warm afternoon, laughing with friends, getting ice cream, would be the things you missed the most.
You don’t appreciate the small things you have
Kai stared down at the number printed on his shirt. It was the same shirt he was required to wear everyday. He was only known as a number here, no one really cared to know his name. It would only cause pain in the end.
My number is KAH1786. A number that has been printed on all my records since the very beginning of my life here on this earth
Inside this cell that had been assigned to him were the basic needs; a bed, a bathroom, there was also a window. But he could have done without that. It only served as torture to be able to see outside, but not able to go out into it.
Sentenced to imprisonment
He stood before the camera holding a sign that also held his number. The flash was bright and he scowled as another picture was taken. A guard came dragging him away after he took a step forward yelling at the photographer.
I didn’t kill anybody, I didn’t perform a crime,
Looking back he could recount each time he’d said no to a drink or cigarette. Those things he knew would always bring downfall.
Hell, I’ve never even drank a drop of liquor nor smoked a cigarette…
All that saying no, and look where it had gotten him.
…Never looked twice at drugs.
He’d always had a clear view of his future. Kept up his studies, that was the only way his parents would let him beyblade.
I’m what you call a 100-percent straight shooter…
And now here he was. Eight months in here with very little opportunities to practice, all the time he had spent training to be the best was now wasted.
…but I’m in here, this hellhole, my personal four-wall prison.
Laying back on his bed he sighed. Before he could stop it, his hand went to the edge of his cap.
All because of this. This thing.
Kai’s finger ran along the outside of his cap. The only thing that hid his demon from the world.
This demon I must care for and nurture, for this is why I’m here.
He turned over staring at the wall as he curled up. Everything had been going so great, why now? He’d just won the World Championships in Beyblading… now it looked like he would never get to beyblade again.
It’s amazing how something so simple can destroy so much.
His lunch was brought by the same guard that came each morning. After looking at the food for a moment he pushed it away, his stomach deciding against eating what this place called ‘food’.
The meals here are horrible. Everybody says it.
Of course… he couldn’t not eat their meals forever. No it truly was amazing what one would to live.
It’s amazing how much a human being will endure just to survive.
Getting up, against his better judgment he walked over to the window and stared out.
It’s always the same here.
The view hadn’t changed, it was still the outside world he could not go into.
Always.
Kai glanced over at the wall and his spirits fell or lifted by what he saw, he wasn’t really sure how to feel about it.
I have a tendency to feel sorry for myself…
Names, so many names carved into the wall, lines showing how long some of them had spent there. Whether they had gotten out or died while they had still been in there was lost. Either way, all that was left were their names.
…but I’m constantly reminded of the other who join me here.
His fingers ghosted over the carved indentions in the wall.
These people.
In this place there was no one over the age of 21, except for the guards of course.
They’re only young.
How many kids had come through here but thought it irrelevant to leave their mark in this place?
They, too, have committed no crime.
His eyes lingered on two of the carvings, one of which he had done himself. The one’s that read, ‘Not Guilty’.
For everyone here is innocent.
Kai looked up from his hands as he heard the guard approaching. It was the same everyday. Things never changed around here.
I go through the “day in, day out” routine.
8:15 a.m. never a minute later.
The head guard is so punctual.
Kai held out his wrist, used to this by now. The guard picked up the cuff and secured it around his wrist. The cuff was connected to a chain that was hooked to the wall. It allowed him to move freely about the room but never any further.
He comes in on every morning, binds me to my room.
Of all the things he hated about this place, he hated this the most. Much like his bit beast, Dranzer, he was meant to be free.
It’s a punishment I must face as part of my sentence.
He fell back onto his bed suddenly feeling tired. This chain always did that, soon he probably wouldn’t be able to move.
It’s like Kryptonite to Superman.
His fist clenched as he thought about the chain.
I hate it.
His eyes drifted over the familiar ceiling tiles, slowly sitting up judging how the chain made him feel today. His spirits lifted a bit when he didn’t feel as tired as the day before.
The only thing I have to go by is that it’s all for my own good.
Kai picked up a book his father had brought him and started flipping through it although his thoughts were not on the words.
I suppose it’s my fault I’m in here…
He’d always been a bit of a trouble maker, nothing to serious, just enough of a smart ass to get on people’s nerves. He’d lived life to the fullest… now it seemed to be taking it’s revenge for the chances he took.
…for years I’ve spent toying with fate. Maybe fate has chosen to toy with me.
In which case, fate has served this purpose well.
He had always loved watching Dranzer battle, she took part of him and put it right there, giving him the ultimate thrill.
I was so free.
Laughter of times past rung in his ears as he stood.
The world my playground, the soil my arena.
He stared over the edge of the building, one more inch and he would fall. One more inch was all it would take, to end the pain, to get out of this prison.
Fate has pushed me so far as to see my life teeter on the edge of a building.
Kai stepped back, away from the retaining wall that kept anyone from getting to close to the edge.
But I would never jump.
He sat with his back against the wall flipping through the picture book his mother had brought him during her last visit. His favorite pictures were taken out and laid on the bed.
I live for my parents, for the people I love.
There were so many pictures. Pictures from much happier times.
For when I die, it is not me who will be affected.
His eyes landed on a picture of him, his mother and father. It had been taken just after his 13th birthday. They had went to the park, a nice passer by had taken the picture.
It’s the ones I leave behind.
Kai stared out the open door. What he would give to be able to just get up and leave!
This will probably be the only goddamn prison that leaves the doors unlocked.
He walked up to the edge of the door.
It’s a torture that each inmate must face.
And stared out, even the air changed outside his cell, it only served to mock his imprisonment more.
But I dare not leave.
Shaking his head slightly he stepped back, returning to his bed.
Not even for freedom.
He once again picked up the book his father had brought, then set it down and paced back and forth across the room.
The worst part about being in here is how time ticks by incessantly, so slowly.
He spun the chain gently watching the rhythmic movements.
Being caged doesn’t mean that time stops, for we all live our lives by the clock.
Moving back to the bed he pulled more of the chain into his hands, spinning it once more only this time like a jump rope.
And so too do I live mine, but much slower.
He sat in the furthest corner of the room from where his chain bound him to the wall and pulled wishing it would break and free him.
Seconds feel like minutes, minutes like hours, hours like days, days like months.
Laying on his stomach he flipped through both the picture book and the reading book, hoping somehow they would form something new, but of course they never did.
It’s like chasing a rainbow to no resolve.
Closing them both he flung them away watching as they hit the wall.
You just chase it.
Then he turned so that he was once more staring at the ceiling.
I’ve found the best way to pass the time is to sleep…
The chain was effecting him again
…because when I sleep, I dream.
His eyes slowly drifted closed.
And when I dream, I can rise above the walls of the prison.
He sat up quickly on a hill, looking around. Everything was so green, there was one tree, and then nothing but sky, the city far below him.
I dream of waking up among lilies and getting that feeling in my body…
Standing he turned to the tree and started to climb, he closed his eyes pausing for a moment when he was deep in the green leaves to take a deep breath.
…that only comes when you’re by yourself.
Suddenly there were more trees and he was able to climb from one to the next.
I dream of the simple things that possess so much beauty…
He ran his hands over the bark, closing his eyes at the feel.
…for even the most unfortunate man.
He stood on the edge of a lake, his eyes still closed. There was no sound in this place, only him.
I dream of listening to the whisper of my breathing…
His eyes slowly opened.
…paying attention to the function more so than at any routine moment.
A black swan swam by, smaller ones following in a line behind.
I dream of seeing things so beautiful that it hurts to watch them.
Sunlight danced through the leaves of the trees.
Freedom is taken so much for granted…
Casting shadows on the ground. He never thought those shadows were anything but right now… they were beautiful.
…when you don’t appreciate the small things that you have.
Kai stared out and his perfect world while he stood by the large oak tree. It was just him and the one tree again. Closing his eyes in sorrow he pulled his wrist out only to be held by his chains.
You know, the hardest part about dreaming is having to wake up…
His eyes slowly opened from his dream, they widened when he realized that he was still here. The steady beep of the heart monitor greeted his ears. His hand unconsciously came up and removed the cap that hid his now bald head from the world.
…because when I awake…
The doctor came in writing things on his clipboard labeled, KAH1786. Kai Alexander Hiwatari, age: 17, born 1986.
Kai stared out the door… the open door of the hospital he could never walk through.
…I’m still here.
O-O Author Note O-O
For those who didn’t get it, Kai is in the hospital with leukemia.
And now for the real good stuff! My latest paper in english had to be on Edgar Allen Poe. My professor gave us choices as to what our essay could be about. I chose the first choice, using the house in the story we chose to show the pyshcology of it. For this one we could not use 'The Fall of the House of User' which has the most psychology in it. So I chose my fave Poe story that we had read, 'The Cask of Amontillado'.
So as with all his paper's Dr. Frazier requires a minimum of 750 words. Well I finished my paper, double spaced it and all that jazz then went to the word count tool. I was at 649. My jaw dropped. I still needed 101 words! Okay well I didn't panic, my paper wasn't due until the next day. Hehe. I had about 6 people in the library wher I work proofread and try to give me ideas, then my roommate, and a couple of other friends. They all said the same thing! "Olivia you have said everything you need to say. I don't know what to tell you to put." Argh! No! By the next day at 10 am (my paper was due at 12) I was starting to panic until one of my friends shook me and said, "Olivia! It's okay. Dr. Frazier has what? 80 other students? He's not gonna go through and count every word!" I didn't like it but I had to agree... and there was nothing else I could put. So I turned in my paper 100 words short.
So yesterday came and we got our papers and exams back. I made a C on my exam. I left 8 of 30 blank because I didn't know them, but I only missed one of the one's I did answer. Yay! Go me! But no... I true magic happened when I got out of class and I looked at the last page of my essay for my grade.
A-! MY JAW HIT THE FLOOR! I SWEAR IT DID! A B is the highest I have ever gotten on an essay in Dr. Frazier's class but now I have this A-! Oh my... I was so... excited. I couldn't stop smiling. So here you guys go, my Poe Essay that got an A- from a professor that RARELY gives A's.
To Your Vaults
The recesses of the mind have always puzzled and intrigued mankind, we love nothing more than a good mystery. Edgar Allen Poe gives us the best mysteries of all and leaves us wanting more. It is the subtle hints at some greater plot, the unanswered questions he leaves, and the small details that make us part of his stories, that capture, and that hold us. It is like in the beginning we have been led into the darkness of a house or mind and chained, forced to listen to this amazing storyteller tell his story.
The house in 'Cask of Amontillado' is the center of everything, in a way it is the mind itself. The brain inside our heads is a muscle and is the co-supporter of the body, its counter part being the heart, without one the body cannot function. The tunnels of the brain are much like the vaults that Montresor leads Fortunato into to get to the catacombs where he walls him up. “I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to Fortunato, bowed him through several suites of rooms to the archway that led into the vaults. I passed down a long and winding staircase, requesting him to be cautious as he followed. We came at length to the foot of the descent and stood together on the damp ground of he catacombs of the Montresors.”
The catacombs, which are deep inside the house, are like the deep recesses of the mind. The deep recesses are where things lay buried and fester. One could almost call the niche that Montresor seals Fortunato in an oubliette, which is a place one puts someone
or something they want to forget about. The bricks that Montresor uses to wall Fortunato up can be seen as the walls we use to close things off with in our minds. A true mason knows that if one brick is out of place the whole structure of what he is building is faulty. Montresor makes the mistake of not finishing his wall so that he can still hear Fortunato’s cries.
The house, while it is the center of everything, is also a system of complete reversals, much like Montresor’s own words. Because he had been planning this for an unspecified amount of time, Montresor had told his servants to take the night off, that he would not be back. He does return bringing Fortunato with him, had the servants been there they might have reported Montresor taking Fortunato down into the catacombs and then not coming back up with him.
David Reynolds, who is a critic of Poe, explains, “Reverse psychology governs even Montresor’s advance preparations for the murder: The palazzo is empty because he has told his servants they should not sir from the house since he would be away all night-an order “sufficient, I well knew, to insure their immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon as my back turned.” Montresor tried to convince Fortunato to not come to his house to try the wine but Fortunato insists because Montresor tricked him.
It is in that very house that perhaps Fortunato insulted Montresor, which led to Montresor wanting to kill him. It is in that house that the plans are concocted and then carried out. As I said before, the house is the center of everything, it has the winding passages and the deep rooms that will hold all the secrets. It is the place where Fortunato meets his end and as Montresor says, “In pace requiescat”, or “rest in peace”.
Works Cited
DiYanni, Robert. Literature: Approaches to Fiction, Poetry, and Drama. Boston: McGraw-Hill. 2004.
Poe, Edgar Allen. “The Cask of Amontillado.” DiYanni 136-141.
Reynolds, David. “On ‘The Cask of Amontillado’.” DiYanni 179-181.
Wow... it really doesn't look like it would be 4 pages on here does it? The wonders of double spacing...
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Date: 2006-02-24 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-24 02:23 am (UTC)