A House's Fall

The following has been inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's "The Cask of Amontillado."

A thousand jests spread across a thousand days and nights; that has been my relation with the ever foolish but admittedly charming Madocffwl. However, THIS time, in this instance, I could not ignore Madocffwl's attacks, verbal or otherwise. 

To insult another's self is but a childish jab: it has no importance. To insult another's HOUSE, in difference, is no child's insult. It is the insult of another man to a man's very kin, his similar in blood. That... That is no jest, you foolish fool.

As my carriage settled and foregone further movement, I stepped out in a Mason's suit, as refined as it was uncomfortable. "Comfort is the poor man's dream," my father always said.

He was right about a great many things. 

I advanced slowly but firmly through the rough gravel under my feet, never buckling or groaning from its torturous texture. My eyes and mind were too keen on approaching Madocffwl's lanky frame to register the gnawing path. He wore a less refined suit than mine own, no doubt did it have comfort in mind. 

Fitting. 

"Ah, Brother! As punctual as always," that snake greeted, having the gall to bring me close in embrace. 

I did not wrap my arms around him, I did not greet him, I only spoke:

 "Has Amnewid been tending to you?" I asked plainly, his arms lowering from my torso in an awkward manner.

 "Yes, she has. It has been quite the long endeavor, but she is also quite the active woman." He spoke fondly, an irritating smile on his face. 

That look was not meant for her!

"So, the move won't be much longer?" I asked flatly, biting more wild and beastly words back. "There is a time to attack, and a time to prepare to attack."

My father was always right about many things. 

"Yes," he started, "it won't be long till this old dustary is cleaned of importance. For Gwerthfawr, I must give it all to her."

Give!? You only take! "I doubt she'd value a home with no homely." You only wish to line your pockets!

"She was never one for items. It was the nature of the thing, not its contents," he replied smoothly, not taking even a second to produce a kind lie. 

Curse this fool's tongue! Flesh, it is not made of. 

"Perhaps you speak well. But, if she truly wishes for an empty home, I believe you ought search the underhome. There lays plenty importance," I suggested, awaiting his assured interest. 

"Underhome?" "To get what you desire, find it for someone else first." 

Father, you were always right about things.

"Yes, an underhome. We wished to place those of true import beneath the above. As heritor, you have claim to it as well." I did not care to hear any more of his kind lies, his glint was the only confirmation I seeked. To believe any other of his manner was the mistake of a different man.

"How much further, Brother?" 

Do not call me that! "Not much more. Your inheritance is close," I managed out, almost gagging at the notion. 

We walked the walkful steps down into the deepest chambers of Madocffwl's (now) home, each one invoking an echo of ghastly nature. These chambers were cold, dark, and, for whatever reason only God knew of, moist. You could make out the dripping of droplets very clearly and openly, as if you were wanted to. 

Its mysterious and unnerving air was enough to rattle even I, and I knew of its exact form! Its very prints were engraved in my memory, yet I found myself tightly clenching the torch I bore with anticipation. For but a moment, I very well expected to be approached by an ancient revenant; one who would wish me harm. 

"Foreboding, is this not?" I ignored Madocffwl's spark of conversation. It was his tool of ignition, one that would burn away all that came before if it so pleased. 

I would not touch it again. 

"I comprehend the need to hide one's imports, but to bury them this far down? I suppose you got your scared nature from your father," Madocffwl teased jovially. 

Fool, it is too late for your jests! Your actions could never be forgotten, nor forgiven either. Never. 

"Brother? You seem quiet..." 

"A mourning man usually is," I responded reluctantly, counting steps more than I gave time. 

"Yes, I suppose he is... Gwerthfawer is much to miss." And yet, you "missed" for mere days, not even a full seven cycles of Sol, and found Amnewid. How odd. 

"Too much, some would say..." I mourn right… 

"Brother?" I have slipped. I feel the aching sensation once more, that of loss and despair. Steel yourself and your bleeding heart, you broken fool. If you cannot do her this, then you may be no better than the accursed snake you so revile.

"I am right." 

"Truly? I feel otherwise," Madocffwl spoke softly, his greed seemingly forgotten. Maybe... No! He did not care for her, you are aware, and thus, why would he shed feel for you? He is but a snake. Charm is his weapon, not his gift. 

"Your concern is," -off-putting, a lie, heino

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us, wretched- "flattering, but not needed. I am quite right, I assure you." Not that you would care; not truly, I am sure. 

"Yes, you would be," the snake let out relief, his charming smile returning as he spoke ever delicately. 

"Forgive me, I forgot to whom I speak. I have always admired your strength of heart, Brother." "A man that commends another man to his face is either effeminate or scheming."

Father was always right. 

If I had only listened to and not merely heard his words when he warned of you, mayhaps Gwerthfawr would not have cared for you till her very last. You call me brother, but now, all I find myself wishing to refer to you is snake and bastar- 

"Brother, I believe I see the importance's shimmer from here! Come, quickly!" Madocffwl called out as we approached mine house's absolute best treasures, his voice disrupting my thoughts. No matter, the end is nigh. 

"Slow yourself, Madocffwl. You will only find harm in that pace," I spoke as I followed him, much more steady and controlled than he as the snake slithered to Pluto's gates.

 

The riches and treasures of mine house illuminated the damp chambers me and Madocffwl traversed not long ago through their mere existence. Tis' was a sign of the treasures' otherworldly value made visible by no explainable means. Even but one item could make the poorest of the poor a wealthy man.

This no doubt ran through Madocffwl's mind as he frolicked like a child on the day of the Messiah's birth. The display made me wonder for but a moment if I truly was required to do as I planned to. Madocffwl seemed as if he could stay within these mythical chambers for centuries on his own accord, so what use was my plan?

But then, I recalled. 

I wished to see him suffer; to lash out as the fork of the beast took hold of him and ran him through. To simply allow this fool to rot away of his own volition and greed would not sate or cleanse me of my fury. I had to see my plan through to the end, not only for mineself, but also Gwerthfawr. My father would greet me in hell with shame if I had done any less; for above all else, he stood for family. And had I not shown myself to as well by punishing he who had wasted the limited time of my similar in blood with his false care and love, then I would assist my father in tying the noose on my neck that awaited to torment me endlessly in the deepest pits of whatever realm of punishment existed; whether it be Hell or Tartarus. 

With my resolve once more found and ignited, my hand gravitated towards one item in particular that was housed within the golden chambers I had lured the one of my ire to. A simple, wooden at the heft and metal at the head, shovel. As my father had always reminded me in my youth when I took my family's wealth in vain and for granted, the house of which I was born was not always that of Masons. We were originally simple people as all others were. Really, there was only one thing that made us different, and it was not visible to the naked eye. It was our determination.

No matter how far back you looked, or which branch you searched, mine house was full plenty in lofty endeavors. Where others acquitted themselves of their dreams and goals, we had always fought for ours. The shovel was one of the many tools we had used to do so, my greatest of greatest grandfather having aspired to become wealthy and be able to tend to his family through his shoveling alone. It had taken him many Lunas and Sols to do so, but he birthed a Mason house through sheer skill and effort. 

I would now prove myself to be worthy of holding his sire name by doing as he once did: shoveling. I grasped my shovel with soft but firm force, putting my strength in a controlled amount onto my mighty tool. With my tool in hand, I shoveled and shoveled in a near frenzy-like state, all sound and echo being lost to me as I did what I saw as my sacred duty with no complaint or whine. 

The snake's desired gold and riches all started to engulf him in a subtle tidal wave, its giant shadow looming over him menacingly as I shoveled on. Before I knew it, it all rushed him down and drowned him as I had planned. I regained my sense of hearing at his shocked and later forcibly silenced gasp, now looking at my deed with a clear mind. 

I could not see his lanky frame anymore, only the gold that had covered it.

I had imagined more struggle than what I had received, maybe even a bit of back and forth, but I suppose it only showed my plan's lack of flaw that he had no opportunity to struggle in the first place. 

I breathed very slowly as my actions sunk in. 

I did not feel as much joy as I had thought I would. In fact, I felt none at all. All that remained in my heart after I had eliminated the target of my ire was the sadness of losing who I loved: a sadness so great I could only run from it to preserve my will to persist. Though now, I couldn't help but think that I'd buried myself along with her in an unintentional, roundabout way. Denying myself grief, pursuing an insignificant snake, reclaiming everything, yet having nothing...

I could go on endlessly, but the fact of the matter never changed. My similar in blood was gone, dead, buried, lost. Gwerthfawr was lost to me, far, FAR too soon. And no revenge could have ever changed that.

I had merely dug two foolish men's graves.