A long time ago, on this very Earth, the doughnut mages ruled. They were a proud tribe, but very foolish. Each child was born with a staff. The staff was a long twisted rod with a pointed end that spiraled up to create a flat base at the top. On that base sat a doughnut. It would always be plain, of course. Doughnut mages didn't earn their frosting until they were sixteen.
If your frosting was chocolate, that meant you were a protector.
If your frosting was Pink, that meant you were a mind reader. There were very few pink doughnuts.
If your doughnut was full of jelly, you had telepathic powers.
Once a doughnut mage turned eighteen, their doughnut gained sprinkles, a sign that their power had met their max potential.
There were two other special doughnuts. There could only be one of each at a time. There was the white doughnut, this doughnut meant the child was pure and true and they would be the new ruler. A child with a white doughnut was only born when the present ruler died.
The other doughnut was basically the same, but it was black and the child was nasty and evil.
One day the people were fed up with the evil doughnut mage. They killed it and waited for the next to be born. Once it was they murdered it. Then the same with the next. Until they caught themselves in a loop.
The doughnut god, Homer Simpson, was furious. He sunk their island (Atlantis) and wrote their tales in stone. He hid the stones in a dormant volcano. Five hundred years later the volcano erupted destroying a town called Pompeii.
Some believe the stones still reside in the volcano. Locked away in a secret cave at the bottom. Until the day the lava clears we will never know.
We will never know.
Can you believe I came up with this in health? But I was sick today so I was like why not? Anyway,
-SG🌰
