Disasters at KSP Writer’s Club

At KSP Writer’s Circle our facilitator made a terrible mistake; she asked if anyone had an idea for a writing exercise.  My hand shot up like lightening realising that it was only a matter of time before someone thought of a good idea.  My idea’s only chance was speed.

I recommended we all write about a climate event thingy; like a tornado or a flood or a breeze or an avalanche.  I explained it better in class; mainly because I kept talking until half the class stopped looking bewildered.  That is a good indicator of when to stop explaining things because about then a competent person will explain the concept properly.

Then came something I never expected.  Our facilitator asked me why, what would we get out of it?  I did not say I never do things for reasons I do then because they are weird, complex, or the idea popped into my little head and hasn’t escaped yet.  I lied; I said it was an exercise to increase our creativity by using the perspective of something else taking humanity out of the equation.

They bought it!


The results were incredibly successful, there were some amazing stories.  But unfortunately for you, I’m only allowed to publish mine.


beach-863346_1920Ah this water is so invigorating, I feel swollen and full of energy.  I bang down on the waters’ surface & the waves lash out in all directions.  Spray fills me turning to vapour, building me up, making me strong.  I am destruction incarnate, I will never be defeated.  I pick up fish and weed, whirling them round and round drawing them up and flinging them far away.

What, more toys?  These boxes of wood and metal defy my will.  I smash them to pieces and grab up every piece using these pieces to batter the next defiant boat.  Sometimes one catches my eye, it is pretty or it is unusual so I leave it, I may not understand the word mercy but caprice is part of my nature.  The boats have been destroyed or escaped, what is next for me to play with?  I am invincible I must have something to play with.

There is something in the water now; tiny grains of sand join the spray.  I am deadly now like sharkskin or sandpaper a new game to play.  Soon more toys come into view, material I can wave & whip like a flag.  Trees are fun some I caress, leaving branches broken; some I snatch from the ground playing catch with myself, I am so clever.  I trail vines of flowers, leaves, pieces of plastic & metal.  Just try to stop me!  I am armed now, I am omnipotent!



A house, bam, no roof, ha ha!  Another house I wriggle my fingers through myriad tiny gaps and then boom, pieces everywhere.  That’s a nice house it has a grey roof, hoppity skip over the roof, not a tile out of place, I am as agile as a cat.  More houses, bigger made of rock and metal I hit them with all my might.  Look at all the patterns I have made, I am an artiste.  I’m feeling tired.

I can not be tired, I am unstoppable, I uproot metal sticks from the ground, I am getting smaller.

If you can’t guess I was a cyclone.

I admit it did not end properly but this was all I could finish before the time was up and adding an ending feels like cheating to me.  But for those that want to know; I died.



Published by autistsix

An autistic woman married to an autistic man trying to raise 4 autistic daughters in a neurotypical world

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