Gemotions

"The antique clock, dear brother, is yours," the will read, the words a cruel joke. Michael chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. He'd always known Daniel would get the farm. That smug, lucky bastard.

He felt the familiar clench in his gut, the urge to unravel the contentment radiating off Daniel. It was always like this. The best grades, the best job offers. Michael, always in the shadow.

He walked out of the lawyer's office, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The air was thick with the scent of freshly turned earth. Daniel's domain. He focused on that smell as he plotted his next move.

He started small. Sabotaging the irrigation system, a few lost chickens. But it wasn’t enough. The itch, the need for a deeper wound, intensified. One dark night, he knew what he had to do.