Ficlets and Ficly survivor, FicMom, and Mistress of Well-Intentioned Indecision and Goddess of Unrequited Love. @ElshaHawk @HawkandYoung
The hall was brightly lit, though curiously empty. I shoved the door labeled Trophy Room open.
The room was dark. A single spotlight shone on a pedestal. It wasn't too tall. I climbed up and stood awkwardly. The light grew brighter and I began to pose. I felt adoration, a warmth, a closeness all around me. I felt bathed in happiness and that I meant something, had a purpose.
But outside of my halo of light I began to notice the dim glow of another.
The longer I stared, squinting, the brighter that light grew and mine dimmed. The more still I stood, the dimmer my light became. I danced a little jig. The light brightened. The pedestal under the second light contained another body, a form unlike mine, but clearly up as high. It danced. Its graceful movements made the pedestal grow. Its light shone brightly and mine nearly went out.
That's when I saw the row of pedestals I was among. All dim like me, but they were cheering the newcomer.
Crushed, I sat. My pedestal shrank down.
Purpose gone, I left.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (2 so far!)
I hate popularity contests.
- #2258 Posted 2 years ago
Me too. I always lose. :P
- #2261 Posted 2 years ago
- Published 2 years ago.
- Story viewed 4 times and rated 0 times.
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