Obsession

Isaac Wilder’s life was perfectly ordinary until the day he found the orb.

The day had begun like any other. He rose from bed, prepared a tasteless breakfast, and trudged down the narrow streets of his small town toward the dusty little shop where he worked. Isaac, at 35, was a man of routine. His existence was carefully curated—a series of predictably timed events that offered little excitement. He was perfectly content in the knowledge that his life was without the mystery or chaos that seemed to chase others. But that all changed on a Tuesday afternoon, when he found it buried beneath a heap of ancient, forgotten things.

The shop where Isaac worked, named "Curio & Co.," was a cluttered emporium of oddities. It specialized in selling relics of the past—vintage trinkets, long-forgotten gadgets, and dusty memorabilia from another era. The shop’s owner, Mr. Finch, was an eccentric elderly man who rarely left the small back office where he spent hours studying old books and newspapers. Isaac had been the sole employee for nearly a decade, handling the sales and maintaining the general upkeep of the place. Most days, the store was empty, aside from the occasional collector wandering in to browse.

Isaac had been cleaning the storeroom that fateful day, his fingers brushing against cold, tarnished metal, when he felt it. His hand froze, gripping something cool and smooth. Pulling aside a tattered old blanket, Isaac revealed a glass orb no bigger than a grapefruit, shimmering with an ethereal light that flickered like trapped stars.

The object glistened with a kind of impossible beauty, shifting colors between emerald green and deep sapphire blue as he rotated it in his hand. It was as if the orb was alive, reacting to his touch, sending ripples of light through the room.

Isaac stood mesmerized. He had never seen anything so beautiful, so otherworldly. His heart raced, and a strange thought crossed his mind: This is mine.

Without a second thought, Isaac pocketed the orb. His rational mind barely registered what he was doing. It wasn’t stealing, he told himself—it had been forgotten, left to rot under layers of dust. No one would miss it.

But that night, as Isaac lay in bed, the orb on his bedside table pulsed gently, illuminating his small apartment in a soft, entrancing glow. He found himself reaching for it, unable to resist. As his fingers made contact, an overwhelming calm washed over him, and he drifted into the deepest sleep he had ever known.

Chapter Two: The Obsession

The next few days blurred together as Isaac’s thoughts became consumed by the orb. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. His routine, once so meticulously kept, began to unravel.

At work, he would sneak glances at the orb he now carried with him at all times, hidden in his coat pocket. During meals, he would set it beside his plate, watching the way the light shifted across its smooth surface. And at night, it remained by his bedside, glowing softly in the dark.

The orb became his constant companion. It was more than an object now—it was part of him. It whispered to him in moments of stillness, calling out to be held, to be admired. Isaac found himself listening, obeying the strange compulsion without question.

His thoughts drifted further from the world around him. Friends he once had, sparse as they were, noticed his absence. His work at the shop suffered, with Mr. Finch often finding him distracted or standing motionless, staring at nothing.

"What’s wrong with you, lad?" Mr. Finch asked one afternoon. "You’ve been acting strange for days now."

Isaac smiled, trying to shrug off the comment. "Just tired, that’s all," he muttered, his fingers grazing the orb hidden in his pocket.

But he wasn’t just tired. Something was changing inside him. The orb was more than just beautiful—it was addictive. The longer he kept it, the more it seemed to demand of him. There were times when he would lose track of hours, just staring at it, lost in the swirling patterns of light. Time felt irrelevant in its presence, and each moment spent with the orb only deepened his need for it.

Isaac began to neglect everything else. Bills piled up. His apartment, once tidy, became a mess of unwashed dishes and discarded clothes. He stopped answering calls and ignored the knocking of concerned neighbors. The only thing that mattered now was the orb.

It was during one of these quiet moments of obsession that Isaac noticed something strange—something that should have alarmed him, but instead only deepened his fixation. The orb’s colors, once shifting and random, now moved with purpose. As he stared into its depths, the patterns formed images—shapes and symbols he couldn’t quite understand, but which seemed to speak directly to his mind.

And then, one night, the orb spoke.

Chapter Three: The Voice

Isaac sat alone in his darkened apartment, the orb resting in his palms. Its glow was unusually intense tonight, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. His breath was shallow, his heart racing, as if he were on the edge of discovering something profound.

And then it happened—a voice, faint but clear, emerged from the silence.

"Isaac."

He jolted, nearly dropping the orb. His pulse quickened. The voice was soft, soothing, like a whisper carried on the wind.

"I see you."

Isaac's hands trembled. He glanced around the room, as if expecting to find someone standing there, but he was alone. It was just him and the orb. He gripped it tighter, staring into its depths, his mind racing.

"You found me," the voice continued. "And now, I will show you."

A surge of warmth flooded through Isaac’s body. The colors in the orb swirled faster now, more vivid than ever before. Images flashed before his eyes—glimpses of places he had never been, of things beyond his understanding. His mind struggled to keep up, but he couldn’t look away. The orb was showing him something, something important. It felt like truth itself, unraveling before him.

"Let me guide you, Isaac."

His body relaxed, the tension melting away. He had never felt so calm, so certain. The voice was right—he had found the orb for a reason. It was meant for him. The orb had chosen him, and now, it would reveal its secrets.

Isaac spent the next few weeks in isolation. He no longer left his apartment, no longer went to work. He had stopped caring about anything but the orb. Food became an afterthought, and sleep was something that only happened when the orb allowed it. His world had shrunk to the size of the glowing sphere in his hands, and he was perfectly content.

The voice continued to speak to him, guiding him. It revealed truths about the universe, about life, about things beyond comprehension. Isaac understood none of it, but he felt its importance. He was being shown the fabric of reality itself, the hidden forces that governed existence.

But with this new knowledge came something darker—a hunger. The orb was no longer enough. Isaac needed more.

Chapter Four: The Descent

Isaac’s transformation became complete. His once gaunt frame was now thin and sickly, his eyes sunken into his skull, dark circles etched beneath them. His hair, unkempt and greasy, hung limp around his face. But none of it mattered. All that mattered was the orb and the knowledge it promised.

But the orb was no longer a passive companion—it had demands. It whispered to Isaac of rituals, of sacrifices that had to be made. The knowledge it offered came at a price, and Isaac, consumed by his obsession, was willing to pay it.

One night, the voice told him what he must do. He would need to perform a ritual, one that required blood. The thought didn’t even register as madness. Isaac, now a slave to the orb, was beyond such considerations.

The next morning, he left his apartment for the first time in weeks. He wandered the streets, his eyes scanning the faces of those around him. It didn’t take long for him to find a target—a homeless man, slumped in an alley, invisible to the world.

Isaac lured him back to his apartment with promises of food and warmth. The man, desperate and hungry, followed without hesitation. Once inside, Isaac wasted no time. He struck quickly, efficiently, his actions guided by the voice in his head. The man’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor, and Isaac, feeling nothing, turned back to the orb.

"Good," the voice whispered. "Now, you are ready."

Isaac stared at the orb, his hands slick with blood. The colors within it swirled more violently than ever before, as if feeding on the life he had taken. For a moment, he felt a surge of power—a connection to something far greater than himself.

But then, the orb cracked.

A thin fissure spread across its surface, and the light within it flickered. Isaac's heart pounded in his chest as the crack grew larger. The orb, his one source of purpose, his obsession, was breaking.

"No!" he screamed, clutching it tighter, but it was too late.

With a sound like shattering glass, the orb exploded in his hands. Isaac was thrown backward, his body slamming into the wall behind him. The room went dark, the glowing light snuffed out in an instant.

Isaac lay on the floor, gasping for breath, his mind reeling. The orb consumed him like a drug, but now it was gone and all that remained was a thin, sickly husk of a man, removed from reality.