Random Short Stories

Beauty And Its Curse [?]

"Briarflower, it's time to focus!" shouted Ashleaf, one of the older warriors, during a clan meeting. "Your obsession is risking our survival. Please, can't you just see that your delusion is out of control?!"

"But Ashleaf, don't you see? If I become perfect, there will be enough beauty in the world to change everything!" Briarflower insisted, her eyes gleaming with a wild fervor. "StarClan will shine upon us! The others will appreciate the divine!"

Briarflower's obsession spiraled like a bramble thicket, wrapping itself tightly around her mind. One day, she decided there was more to her beauty than just her appearance.

Perhaps it was the way she spoke, the enchanting melody of her voice that captivated others.

"I shall practice my words!" she declared to the clan one afternoon, raising her chin dramatically. "A beautiful cat deserves an equally beautiful voice!"

YeastClan tried to measure their responses towards Briarflower's outlandish proclamations. Some were confused, some amused and some outright annoyed.

"Maybe what we should actually focus on are the patrols and gathering food," Sagewhisker muttered, but Briarflower was already lost in her own world.

Days passed, and Briarflower took to the glades, crafting rhymes and sweet words in hopes of enchanting the warriors of YeastClan, imagining them serenading her with praises of her beauty.

However, her verses fell flat, mere nonsense to those who heard them. Instead of admiration, her clanmates feigned sleep or retreated to shadows, seeking refuge from her endless soliloquies.

At the next Gathering, the sun brightening the gathering place, Briarflower wore the most lavish flowers woven into her fur. Her magnificent bouquet—daisies and bluebells—was a display of her self-proclaimed beauty.

As she strutted up to the centre of the clearing, she glanced at the other clans, seeking admiration, yet only saw confused glances and subtle whispers.

"Who is she trying to impress?" a SpireClan hunter with golden fur chuckled, eliciting snickers from a group of both CopseClan and PrideClan warriors.

But Briarflower thrived on the attention instead of wilting from humiliation, misinterpreting disdain as jealousy, fuelling her delusions even further.

Not all were indifferent. Slateflight, a young SwarmClan warrior, was both rather intrigued and utterly baffled by Briarflower's sheer confidence and the might of her delusion.

One sunny evening, he approached her carefully as she groomed herself, a tuft of lavender from the field nestled in her whiskers.

"Briarflower," he began with genuine curiosity, "don't you think there are more important things than beauty? What about being strong, or maybe being clever?"

Briarflower turned, her eyes wide with incredulity. "But beauty is power!" she exclaimed, sending strands of fur and flower petals everywhere. "What is strength without beauty to match?"

Slateflight shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps strength can outshine beauty. A warrior's heart is what truly matters, is it not?"

Briarflower merely scoffed, fluffing her tail in disdain. "You're young, Slateflight. You'll understand one day."

Despite her dismissal, the seed of doubt had been sewn. As time went on, the clan began to notice a peculiar shift; Briarflower's obsession was becoming unbearable.

Her decline in her hunting skill that was discarded for her beauty was impacting their prey, and countless hours were wasted on her ridiculous fanciful speeches about beauty when YeastClan could've easily been doing something better.

One moonlit night, as the stars twinkled like scattered diamonds, Briarflower stood before her reflection in the stream, rehearsing another speech. But as she spoke, there was an ominous rustle behind her.

Turning swiftly, her heart raced as she spotted the familiar SwarmClan cat Slateflight prowling close. "Well, well, what do we have here?" He grinned, a cheeky glint in his eye. "The great warrior turned poet, talking to herself."

"Leave me be!" Briarflower snapped, her heart thudding. "Can't you see I'm practicing? I have no time to waste with the likes of a- a common-looking eyesore like you!"

"Practicing what, exactly?" he scoffed disdainfully, tilting his head. "Delivering nonsense? Or should I say trying to convince the stars that you belong among them?"

Her eyes flared with anger. "I am the most beautiful!" she declared, puffing out her chest. "And one day, they will all see!"

As the seasons changed, the irritation and annoyance of the YeastClan cats began to simmer and gradually boil as Briarflower discovered many new ways to showcase her "beauty."

She splashed in the river during hunting patrols, insistent on soaking her fur dramatically to let it flow like a silk cape. "Look, I'm a divine goddess of the water!" she proclaimed as the water droplets dripping off her fur sparkled in the sunlight.

But as her antics grew wilder, anger and frustration gnawed at her clanmates. Their patience was wearing alarmingly thin and so were they due to the lack of good prey.

They were tired of fussing over Briarflower's whims, of bypassing the best hunting spots because she insisted on finding the perfect flower to adorn herself with. The clan, once a sanctuary, felt more like a tethering cage they couldn't escape.

One evening, as the sun began to set, Briarflower returned to camp, a radiant bouquet of wildflowers clenched in her jaws. "Look at these! Only the finest for a queen!" she exclaimed, blissfully unaware of the frustrated murmurs around her.

"Briarflower, we can't keep doing this," Coldwind, the stoic YeastClan deputy, finally spoke, his patience worn thin. "Hunting has been scarce. You need to focus on what truly matters—our clan, our survival."

"But I'm the most beautiful! If I shine, so does IvyClan!" she argued, her eyes blazing with delusion. The cheery laughter and camaraderie felt more distant now.

Her clanmates shrugged, groaned and padded away, leaving Briarflower alone, still bumbling through her lavish fantasies of dreams that seemed so close, yet so far.

"Leave her alone," grunted Sumacbounce, a brown she-cat with a stubby tail and green-yellow eyes. "She'll never listen to any of us, don't waste your energy trying."

Days turned into weeks, and the sheen of Briarflower's façade began to crack. Each time she gazed into the river, she noticed her reflection grow dimmer, her coat less polished, the flowers wilting without attention.

Frightened, she tried harder—cleaning and grooming with a fervor that only deepened her isolation. Her desperate attempts only drove her clanmates further away. The whispers grew louder, the mutters directed at her more common.

"I don't see how you can call her beautiful," Rowancall remarked one morning while rolling a moss ball. "She's truly lost in the maze of her own delusions now."

The day she returned to the clearing alone, with no greetings from fellow warriors, was the day reality hit her. She called for her clanmates—her soft voice melting into the dusk, but no one responded.

Briarflower felt the weight of silence crash down upon her. The river her mirror, now mocked her—gone was the royalty she thought she embodied.

Abandonment stung like thorns as she gazed around the unfamiliar camp, her once-beloved home. The fire of her obsession flickered weakly in her heart.

For once, she wondered if beauty was truly worth the isolation it had wrought.