Cask Of Amontillado AFRS Myst Phs

The finest wine is in a catacombs far under the river. Bones are there too. Human bones. The burial grounds of a long family. And deep in that dark dang tunnel, there is no one to hear a man begging for his life.

This is Peter Lauren opening the doors of the mystery playhouse. The words of Edgar Allan Poe usually start once acquaintance with a literature of mystery. Then as the years pass by, we are apt to forget that Poe is not only the father, but only the master of moral.

And so tonight we bring you one of the very first and very best. It's a story of revenge that communicates its character to the listener so directly that And how as afterward your spine will still feel cold.

Here then is Edgar Aon Pose, the cask of Amontiano. When a thousand injuries are fortunate, I bore as best I could. Neither by word nor deed did I ever give him cause to doubt my good will.

That was long ago, but I remember it. If ever a man had reason to hate and write to vengeance, it was I, the last of the Mottresauves. Through a device which the devil himself must have conceived, Forcharnato, the noble, high-born Forcharnato, had robbed and swindled my aging and sorrowful father of all his vast fortunes.

As the last of our gold was transferred to Fortinato's already-brimming vorts, my father broke two million teeth and plagued with anguish. I saw that he lay dying, his last words to me were, He fells my son the wrongs done to the Montresauce, find this fiendish.

For the father had been old and helpless before Fortunato's cruel and evil ways. Now that my father was dead, I would be avenge. I vowed neither by word nor deed would I ever give Fortunato calls to doubt my good will. I accepted the small sums of gold, which is so graciously orphaned from time to time, only that I might live to bring upon