Your character has a special item that they now lost. What does it mean to them and how did they lose it?
The world must run. Escape to as far as you can go and pray that you’ve gone far enough. I was born cursed. Armageddon is quite literally my middle name. The day I was born, the priests say the skies split open. A ravenous storm hailed down on our little town and the elven family at the end of our street was swept away in the flood that followed. I’m told there was a prophecy foretelling my coming. I would bring the end of the world and we all know how people love to believe in prophecies.
When I cry, the ground shakes. When I scream, the wind picks up. My frustrations lead to destruction and I actually enjoyed watching things break. I’m the one who made the canyon outside of town after all. It’s become quite the beautiful sight, but the townsfolk named it death.
You could say the old wizard who lived in the forest saved us. With his spells and magic power, he crafted a book to keep my destructive desires away. My parents read it to me every night, morning, and midday. When I could read on my own, I was to read the book in my downtime. Reading it calmed me and after time, I found myself not wanting to break things. My evil desires were tamed. I learned to create. I learned simple chores. I learned how to be a normal person and I did enjoy that. The town won’t let me forget, but with my book, I’m sane.
Now, my book is gone.
By some childish jest or godly interference, I cannot say. It was here and then gone the next. Only a day has passed and I feel the yearning to destroy aching at my brain. I’ve already demolished the dwarves’ shed. A groan of frustration and fretfulness and the boards splintered like fragmented bones. The weight of the ore inside brought the whole thing to a crashing pile of dust and the scent never smelled so sweet. My father got me out of there before I could be tempted to do more.
I can’t stop thinking about it. The cracking sounds it made echoes in my ears. It was just a shed. Just a shed. What harm did I even do? They needed to rebuild it anyway! What if I just found little things? Things that needed to be fixed like the rancher’s fence or the apothecary’s stone bench. I bet I could make it fall apart like dust.
No. I tighten my grip on my knees. All I can do is hide in the corner of my room. Hold myself hostage so I can’t go out and give in to the Armageddon within me. I want my book. I need my book. I can’t even remember what it used to say! I’ve had it for years and now that I need it, the words on it pages slip from my mind. This isn’t fair! I didn’t ask to be cursed! I didn’t ask to bring the end of the world!
The world. Who cares about the world anyway? The world is cruel. Cruel that schoolmates throw rocks and mock me. Cruel that the priests’ eyes watch me with hate. Cruel that no one will be friends with me. Cruel that my sanity relies on a stupid book! Cruel since my parents aren’t even here trying to help me hold myself together!
Maybe it is time to say goodbye to this cruel world? I could end it all. Watch it fall apart. What beauty would be in that raging chaos? How exhilarating it would be to watch the world break. The floorboards crack beneath me and the splinters make me smile.
The world must run. I won’t let it escape.