Thinking of Chaos, and the way nature wants to balance the scales in a way that makes me fear its brutality.

#horror #writingsprint #writingexercise

There once was a girl named Quarantina. And her legs gave out at times, because her kid-sized body felt too heavy. And the obvious question she was asked was how she got her name. And one day she humored all the boys and girls in class, who poorly hid the snickers on their faces. And she knew she didn’t fit in this world. She wasn’t made for studying and writing exercises and nap time. She longed for an answer as to why her belly heavied when sadness filled the room. Like the time the blue fishy Mr. Ceviche, perished, and an altar was made to memorialize this, oh so cherished classroom pet. Or when the rain came down so harsh and loud and thunderous, the children screamed and ran inside from a recess cut short, and Quarantina smiled at the sight of it. And so when she answered the question from pudgy, blonde, hog-faced Billy Sanderson, Quarantina grinned as a light bulb pinged to life in her head and she discovered what she was actually made of: “I am a temporary prison. And this form, shall come to pass. And I will once again be made to sail the windtails of this Earth to places your ashes never will. I am carnage in waiting. I am pestilence.”


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