Fame’s Master

Author Jenna Eatough's Flash Fiction Story from writing prompt: Fame is his master

Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.

The wavering light of the candles covered the stage as Alathic strode out from behind the curtain. The crowd erupted into applause before he said his first word. He took long languid strides to the center of the stage.

Pausing, he glanced to the first box in the balcony. The light was faint there, but enough that it caught his eyes and sent them gleaming a deep red. Caught the beginning of a grin.

Yanking his attention away from the balcony, Alathic swallowed and tried to refocus on the room before him. On the crowd. On the role he was to assume.

Anything but the man cloistered and ever watching from the box.

His Tongue felt dry and his throat tight, but, opening his mouth, the words flowed out. Words he had heard through varied performances from the time he was a lad toddling about to his years studying beneath the troop.

Years when he’d despaired ever being noticed. A hard feat when shadowing the greatest of actors, the third sons with wealth to burn, and being nothing more than determined.

Alathic would give anything for those years back now. He’d been a fool then and now fame was his master.

A master with glowing red eyes and wicked fangs. He’d never realized how hard fame could bite until he’d first tried walking away. Alathic shuddered. He wouldn’t be trying that again soon. Turning, he continued his cursed performance.

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