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Vanity
Vanity.
Surveying the ornate mirror, the young man named Sebastian traced the sharp contours of his face with his emerald eyes. He smiled, satisfied with what he saw: the very incarnation of beauty and youth. Delicate hands had sculpted and molded this face until perfection itself was created. Women swooned in delight when they saw his beautifully chiseled lips; men scowled indignantly in envy upon sighting his sculptured body.
A thought struck him one day. One cannot stay young and beautiful forever: how do you preserve perfection like this? Day after day he puzzled over the means to protect his beauty. A disheveled man after locking himself in his room for four days straight, Sebastian burst out of his room to shout, “EUREKA! I’VE GOT IT, I’VE GOT IT!” He then proceeded to splurge his money on the most expensive machines equipped with the items he required to maintain his glamor.
A morbid means it was, indeed. When Sebastian’s butler knocked on his door and received no response from the young man, he opened the door to find a queer sight.
A sickly yellow goo-like thing covered a chair, upon which sat a beautiful man. His features, though covered in wax, still appeared to be elegant and delicate.
Truly, forever young.
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Weird thoughts come to me at night.
This was written within a short time period, so I apologize for the terrible quality, but I wanted to write as fast as possible so I don't forget the ideas.
(Possible) future editing to come.
Feedback please?