The Prideful Ornament
The golden ball ornament sparkled at the top of the Christmas tree, basking in the glow of the twinkling lights. “Look at me,” it bragged. “The way I shimmer, the way I shine! None of you dull things can compare.”
The candy cane ornament swayed below, scuffed and faded. “We’re all part of the same tree,” it said timidly.
“Spare me your sentiment,” the ball sneered. “I was chosen for the top! You’re just filler.”
The old glass angel chimed in. “Pride comes before the fall, you know.”
“Fall? Me? Please,” the ball laughed.
But that night, the cat leapt onto the tree, batting at ornaments in delight. With one final swipe, the golden ball tumbled to the ground. It shattered with a sharp crack, sending glittering shards across the floor.
The house lady rushed over, muttering in frustration. As she gathered the pieces, a sharp fragment pierced her palm. Blood trickled onto the floor. She gasped in pain and spat, “Cursed thing!” She flung the broken ornament into the roaring fireplace.
As the flames consumed it, the ball screamed. “No! I was perfect! I was beautiful!”
The candy cane chuckled. “Not so shiny now, are you?”
The angel joined in. “Pride always burns the brightest… before it dies.”
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