Challenge #01701-D240: Chosen by Disorder

"When chaos bears fruit, you eat first and think about the stomach ache later." -- RecklessPrudence

It was the only tree that grew sideways. Its leaves were purple. Its fruit was a shade of pink never seen in nature. But this... was not natural. This was a tree that grew in the Realm of Disorder. It stood still in the wind and waved when it was calm. And whenever it rained[1], it danced.

The Lord of Disorder held a Fruit Party whenever the trees like it ripened. And the effects were always... unpredictable. To any bold enough to complain, the Lord would ask, "Did you read the address in the invitation?"

Sal had no idea why she was invited but, having read the instructions, followed them anyway. She rarely got any kind of invitation at all, and this one was not to be ignored. Now, she had to note, her offcut dress fit in. Her strange way of dressing her hair was no more strange than anyone else's. And she was seated primly on a floating chair between the God of War and the Lord of Disorder Himself.

People said he was evil. Sal couldn't see it. The God was rather civil, if inherently chaotic. And He was nice enough to invite people to a party that could happen at any time at all.

"This is your first time," said the Lord of Disorder. "So I shall explain the rules."

The deities around the table chuckled.

"There aren't any! Did you read the address?"

And then He handed her a net on a polearm and directed His minions to set the dishes loose.

Of course the meals in Disorder would fly about. And sing. It was the first time anywhere made sense to Sal. Here, nobody called her strange for laughing as she jumped about and tried to catch a flying trifle. She never minded that every drink had to be supped upside-down.

It was the most fun she'd had in her life.

Only when the Gods declared the party ended, after the fruit had all been consumed, Sal wept at the thought of having to go back to her life as an exile. She didn't want to return to a mortal realm. Where people threw rocks at her for the way she acted. Or pelted mud at her multi-coloured dresses. As if it were entirely her fault that the only cloth she could afford were flour sacks and off-cuts from the village dressmaker's.

She didn't want to go back to begging for spoiled food. Or eating whatever people threw at her.

The Lord of Disorder noticed her trying to hide. Saw her tears. "I know there are no rules," He said, "but a party is meant for happiness. Not sorrow."

Sal blubbered. "I don't want to go home," she said. "It's horrible there."

"Have no fear," said the Lord. "You are a Saint of mine. You can make whatever unwelcome chaos they throw at you... come back to those that wish you ill."

She still wept when she blinked and she was in her little mud hovel. But Sal didn't have cause to weep for much longer. When she went out seeking food, the villagers threw their waste at her. It swung around her as if it were caught by an invisible slingshot and pelted the villagers in the face. Rotting food sailed into her basket as nice as pie, and when she told it, "Rot backwards," it gained the vitality that had once been turning into dirt.

And the maggots turned into little golden nuggets.

It took them a year to figure out that she actually was a Saint. And another five to stop being scared of her. As if she would take her revenge on them by ruining their lives like they had ruined hers. It didn't make sense for her to do so.

But then, nothing that they did made any sense at all to Sal.

[1]: At this point, it might be noted that the rain in the Realm of Disorder is anything other than water. Locals segregate the classifications into 'sweet', 'sour', and 'unpleasant'.

[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / gkuna]

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