second thoughts

Waiting for my cue, I practice my smile. It feels wrong. Too forced. Too white against the gray pallor of my skin.

I try to shake off my doubts. I am the heir apparent. It is my heritage.

But some nights it’s too much. It’s like a giant squid has me wrapped in its tentacles. It squeezes and squeezes and whispers “birthright” in my ear, but I don’t feel lucky. I feel like it’s trying to drown me.

But it’s too late for second thoughts. The crowd chants my name as I once again claim my birthright.

(97 Words)

 Thanks for the inspiration.

Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge – Grey

Weekend Writing Prompt #440 – Heritage