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A new contest I made. Using story starters to write stories. |
What I Deserve. The flickering gaslight cast long, dancing shadows across Elias’s contorted face. He stared at the discarded silver locket on the dusty floor, its intricate filigree dulled by an unholy shine. Beside it lay the faded velvet ribbon, a stark reminder of what had been. "How come he was always chosen for everything? Just because he's better-looking than me doesn't mean he deserves all the attention." Elias rasped, his voice raw with grief. He choked on the words, the unspoken accusation hanging thick in the air, a miasma of envy and rage. He deserved it. He should have been the one. His gaze drifted to the ornate, velvet-draped altar in the center of the abandoned chapel. The air thrummed with a palpable, ancient energy. It was here, only last week, that Thomas had been chosen. Thomas, with his chiseled jaw and eyes the color of a summer sky. Thomas, who had never known a moment of actual want or struggle. Thomas, who had walked willingly into the maw of the forgotten god, his last breath a whisper of misguided devotion. Elias had watched. Hidden in the shadows, a phantom observing the ritual he had yearned to perform himself. He’d seen the luminescence that had enveloped Thomas, the unholy glow that had marked him worthy. And then, the silence. The chilling, absolute absence of Thomas. But Elias hadn’t watched. He waited. Weeks of meticulous preparation, of poring over forbidden texts, of whispering incantations that made the very stones of the chapel weep. He had traded his sanity, piece by agonizing piece, for this moment. He had offered not his beauty, not his charm, but the gnawing emptiness within him. The void that Thomas had so carelessly filled with his effervescent light. The shadows coalesced, forming a formless entity that pulsed with malevolent understanding. It had heard Elias’s plea, his desperate, venomous envy. It had seen the spark of something kindred in his tormented soul. "Doesn't mean he gets the eternal peace," Elias concluded, a chillingly calm smile spreading across his face. "Doesn't mean he gets the gift." He reached for the locket, his fingers brushing against its cold metal. He didn’t need Thomas’s beauty anymore. He had something far more potent now: a hunger that could never be sated, a darkness that reflected the true nature of the entity that now coiled around him, eager to claim its prize. The chapel, once a place of worship, was now a stage for a new, terrifying ascension, and Elias, not Thomas, was the star. Word Total: 420 Prompt: How come he was always chosen for everything? Just because he's better-looking than me doesn't mean... |
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