A Strange Orb

Luke adjusted the phone camera on the stack of books, ensuring it was at the right angle. He took a deep breath, shaking off the nervousness creeping into his mind.

"Alright," he muttered to himself. "One more take."

He pressed record and started delivering his lines, a monologue he had written himself. His emotions flowed naturally, his expressions raw and powerful. When he finished, he exhaled heavily, hoping this would be the one to catch people's attention.

After a quick edit, he uploaded the video to his channel. It was his tenth upload in a month. He refreshed the page every few minutes, but as expected, the views barely trickled in.

Five views. Then seven. Then ten.

Luke ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He had put his heart into these videos, but no one seemed to care. His comment section was empty except for a few bots.

"Maybe they were right," a dark thought whispered in his mind. "Maybe I really don't have the talent."

Shaking his head, he pushed the doubt away. No. He couldn't afford to think like that. He had to keep going, no matter how slow the progress.

Later that evening, his grandfather sent him to an old warehouse on the outskirts of town. It was a storage place filled with junk from decades past. Albert wanted him to find an old toolbox that had been left there years ago.

As Luke stepped inside, dust particles floated in the dim light filtering through broken windows. The air was thick with the scent of rust and aged wood.

He wandered through the maze of old furniture, broken appliances, and forgotten relics, searching for the toolbox. As he moved deeper into the warehouse, something caught his eye—a faint purple glow coming from beneath a pile of old crates.

Curious, he moved the crates aside, revealing a small, smooth orb pulsating with a strange light. It was no bigger than a marble, and it seemed almost alive, the way it shimmered and flickered in the darkness.

"What the hell is this?" he murmured, picking it up. The moment his fingers made contact, a jolt of warmth spread through his palm.

A sudden dizziness washed over him. His vision blurred. His fingers trembled, and before he could react, the orb slipped from his grasp—straight into his open mouth.

Panic surged through him as he accidentally swallowed it.

His throat burned. His chest tightened. He gasped, clutching his neck, but before he could process what was happening, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion crashed over him.

Darkness swallowed his vision, and he collapsed onto the cold warehouse floor.