A/N hey! yea i'm not dead! just a serious case of the writers block so wi wrote this tory an another to help clear it up. so here ya go Talon, this is for you!
Disclaimer- I don not own The Cask of Amontillado.
Fortunato reflected on the past nights events. He had been a fool. An idiotic fool. A foolish fool. Now that didn't even sound right. He ran a hand through his already mussed hair, the bells on his jester costume jingling. The soft glow of the lantern gone and the entire slowly breaking down his defenses. He forced back a cough. He took a deep breath, fighting a bout of coughs once again,
At the beginning of the night he visited the carnival. He drank and drank, bitterly thinking about how he was just a connoisseur of wine, nothing more nor nothing less. He slowly drank himself into oblivion, only retaining some soberness, as he laughed and jokes with his 'friends'. And as he stumbled he took note of the great Montresor. He was a good friend of Fortunato's and when he saw his good friend walking towards him, the thoughts that haunted his every waking moment rushed to his mind. The dark, brooding look in his deep onyx eyes, his long, pale, spidery fingers, the way his sallow skin reflected the moonlight. NO, he shook his head firmly and took another swig of his wine, just friends.
Montresor talked about an amontillado and Fortunato quickly agreed to take a look. After all, what could best take away these dreaded thought from his tortured mind? Good wine. After all he was a connoisseur. He followed Montresor, fighting off his emotions and thoughts plaguing him. They arrived at the catacombs quicker than Fortunato expected and as he entered, the sense of danger flashed in his mind. He pushed it away and focused on the beautiful man in front of him deep in to the catacombs.
They drank wine to Forunato's long life but he knew someone would die and he would be left only a fool.
Fortunato's wine began to sink in and he began to brag about being a freemason. And when Montresor brought out the tiny shovel from nowhere, his heart sank and he knew now that it was to be done but still he followed the dark creature in front of him further.
His cough had worsened and his sense of danger kept flashing but yet again, he ignored it. The fair man in front of him, his only true friend for many years closed up on him, trapping to the wall. A thrill shot up through his spine then Montresor chained him to the wall, more thrill shooting up everywhere and his mind began to race. Then his only true friend began walling him up. Fortunato's mounting excitement dispersed and soberness took over. His thought shrieking at him, "I told you so!"
The rest was a blur and now our hero sat in the lonely, suffocating, opaqueness. "You're going to die..." rang through his ears repetitively. Wine, his friend, and Montresor, his only, true friend had betrayed him. Leaving him to perish alone, looking like a fool….