Random Short Stories

Contempt and Favouritism [🦋]

In the heart of the tranquil Sedge Colony, known for its sweeping willows and glistening marshes, lived Plumetwist and Rabbitflare—a pair of proud parents heralded for their striking beauty and determination.

Their family, while beautiful and blessed, was marred by the disparity between their two kits: the radiant Plumeriakit and her less fortunate sister, Weaselkit.

Plumeriakit, the elder by mere moments, radiated a glowing beauty that captivated any who dared to gaze upon her. Her fur was a kaleidoscope of silvery browns and soft russet hues, elegant and refined.

Every step she took was accompanied by an elusive grace that seemed otherworldly. Her parents adored her enchanting presence and surrounded her with gifts and attention.

Each time she purred in delight or chased the delicate dragonflies that flitted by, their hearts swelled with pride.

In stark contrast, her sister, Weaselkit, inherited traits that many deemed less favorable.

While her fur was a mousy brown and her eyes were sharp and slightly too wide, it was her gangly limbs and awkward gait that often drew the unfavorable attention of their parents and peers alike.

Though she had a kind heart, often nurturing and loving towards the creatures of the marsh, her parents appeared blind to her virtues.

From the start, Plumetwist and Rabbitflare lavished attention on Plumeriakit, placing her on a pedestal so high that the very clouds began to envy her position.

Every time they offered a piece of fresh prey or bestowed any affectionate nuzzles, it was always with only Plumeriakit in mind. "She's the future of our Colony," they would declare to each other, often forgetting there was another kit present.

Weaselkit learned early on to retreat into the shadows, quietly observing her sister's glory.

She would watch as Plumetwist fawned over Plumeriakit's every pounce, urging her to catch butterflies and celebrate her victories.

Weaselkit found solace in the whispers of the forest, in the rustle of the grass and in the delicacy of wildflowers that offered her a world beyond the nursery's woes.

As the moons turned and the kits grew, it became increasingly apparent that the favoritism was not merely a fleeting emotion but a deep-seated belief.

Whatever little affection Plumetwist and Rabbitflare bestowed upon Weaselkit felt more like a begrudging responsibility than genuine care.

If Plumeriakit was invited to a gathering among the clan, a place to revel in her beauty and charm, Weaselkit was reminded of her imperfections and told to "Just stay hidden, dear. You wouldn't want to scare away the other colonies!"

Every tender moment shared between Plumeriakit and her parents felt like a dagger piercing Weaselkit's heart. She learned early to suppress her feelings, knowing that showing her hurt would bring further scorn.

"Why can't you be more like your sister?" They would often say, dismissing her small attempts to gain their approval.

And so, Weaselkit disguised her pain behind a mask of tranquility, finding solace in nature—the whispering reeds, the gently swaying cattails.

As the seasons changed, so did the behaviors of each household member. Plumeriakit blossomed under her parents' extravagant attention, their encouragement turning into relentless coddling.

Time ambled on, and as the leaves shifted from green to gold, the twins transitioned into their apprenticeships. Plumeriapaw, still the envy of every cat, was coddled even more by her parents.