Once upon a time, there was a diamond ring.
It wasn’t a beautiful diamond ring, which may surprise you. You’re thinking that diamond rings, as a rule, are beautiful. Perhaps you believe that being beautiful is indeed one of the indelible characteristics of a diamond ring.
You would be wrong.
Because this particular diamond ring was not beautiful. It was not pretty, or lovely, or sweet. It could not even be generously described as interesting.
What it was, was ugly.
The band was silver, but so tarnished that it appeared as so much molded dirt, rolled into a circular shape.
The diamond was am embarrassment to diamond everywhere. It didn’t sparkle, or shine, or glimmer, or any of the things a proper diamond should do. No, it just sat there, inexpertly set on the top of the tarnished band, an unattractive chunk of dull, lifeless rock.
As I said, it was ugly.
Sadly, it knew that it was ugly. And it hated it.
The ring knew that any diamond ring worth showing it’s facets in public was expected to be beautiful. You just couldn’t call yourself a diamond ring and look the way it did.
It hated itself. If it could have done so, it would have ended things.
But the worst part about being a sentient ring was that, well, you weren’t ambulatory. The only way a sentient ring could go anywhere was to be worn or carried by someone.
The second worst thing about being a sentient ring was that as soon as someone put you on and you began talking to them in their head, they thought they’d gone crazy. Sooner or later they would either become a solitary nutcase alone in the house, or they would make the connection between the voice in their head and you, their ring, and throw you away. In either scenario, you weren’t out there seeing the world, were you?
Oh sure, sometimes a wizard would find you, recognize what you were, and give you a loving home. At least for the wizard’s lifetime. That was the pinnacle of sentient ring ambition.
Unfortunately it was pretty damn hard to come by.
So anyway, back to the story. Once upon a time there was an ugly diamond ring. It had been sinking down into soft mud for the last decade or so. Its last owner had been a fairly odious businessman who thought the ring could be melted down and made into something of value.
Needless to say the ring didn’t think much of this plan and cranked up the head-talk with the gentlemen to the maximum level. The guy cracked within 24 hours, went screaming, naked, into the forest, and lost the ring while digging insanely in the mud at the side of a pond.
And that is where the goblin found it.
Goblins spend the vast majority of their time looking for things. Things to eat, things to hoard, things to sell. Goblins are the world’s best packrats.
They are also god-awful ugly.
Goblins are generally short, squat, with mushed-in faces, and enormous hair feet, and lopsided crusty ears and bulbous, leaky noses. They’re a yellowish shade of green that appeals to exactly no one.
This particular goblin was called Gort. Gort was not short, not squat, and not a yellowish shade of green that appealed to exactly no one. Gort was tall, lean, and a lovely hue of spring green that universally inspired happiness and peace.
Gort was a handsome dude.
Sadly, Gort knew that he was handsome. And he hated it.
The worst part about being a goblin was that you were expected to be ugly things. Ugliness was at the core of goblin culture. It was the standard by which you were measured. It was how you got ahead. Without a cringe-worthy mug, you were nothing.
Without a cringe-worthy mug, attracting a mate just wasn’t happening.
So anyway, back to the story. There was Gort, the devilishly handsome goblin, digging in the mud for things. He might have been a looker, but he was keen to be the best goblin he could be in all other ways.
Gort’s driving motivation on that day was Furg. Furg was a female goblin that Gort had fallen hard for that year. She was way out of his league, of course. She had matted fur that was also greasy and flea-ridden. She had bulging eyes that looked in different directions. Her aroma was so strong she could threaten the other goblin clans from a mile away.
She was perfect.
Gort was determined to impress her. He would find something so fantastic that Furp would be utterly swept away with love for him.
So he dug. And dug. And dug. Until at last, paydirt. He found the ring.
It was awful, Gort thought. It was misshapen. It was filthy. It smelled horrible. It was uglier than Gort was handsome.
It. Was. Perfect!
And so, dear reader, Gort presented the ring to Furp, and it is said that she swooned at the sight of it.
As goblins are not only repulsive, but also quite mad, the voice in her head didn’t concern Furp at all. She figured that perhaps it was the collective sound of the fleas in her fur, and quite enjoyed the company.
Everyone has a place in the world.
Even ugly diamond rings.
=============================
Day 5 Prompt: A forest is the location, hatred is the theme. A diamond ring is an object that plays a part in the story.
No comments:
Post a Comment