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If I was born in a waggon to a circus family, my name would be Harper. I would only listen to circus music and wonder where my dad went. My mother would be of no inspiration to me. I wouldn't even be accepted by the freakshows at the circus because I'd have some kind of disease where I'd constantly have spiders crawling on me. Like a spider magnet. It'd make me paranoid and I'd always think someone was standing behind me. I'd be born with no talent whatsoever except the ability to not feel it when someone's burning my skin. Which isn't a talent necessarily, but more of some freak thing that would just...happen to come along with my inhuman biological structure. I'd be afraid of noise. Some nights I wouldn't sleep and other times I'd sleep for two days straight. I'd be stuck there and have no place to go. No one would fall in love with me. I'd have one friend and it would be the blind clown on the stilts that scares all the children away. He'd tell me stories about the people who'be succeeded in their lives. On the nights that I couldn't sleep, I'd wonder what the word "purpose" meant but I'd never learn. I'd always want to make a quilt but I never would. Never. I'd fall in love with a boy who brought his amazing girlfriend to the circus every year. I'd never speak to him, and barely look at him. One day, I'd be in one of my sleeping through a couple days moods and the circus would set on fire. I would set on fire. But I wouldn't know it. One day I would wake up in a bright townhouse in Virginia. There'd be way more people in the townhouse than you'd think it could hold. The townhouse would be cleverly named Pergatory for 'reason unknown'. It would talk to you and answer any question you have in detail and honesty. But of course, when the plug is pulled, I would have the sudden urge to ask the question. "Heaven or Hell?" The townhouse was the only thing I'd talk to. It never directly answered my question but I knew the answer. There was a question I wanted to know the answer to the most from the beginning, but that was the only question the townhouse wouldn't answer. "What is purpose?" I suppose I was in hell.


When you're brought up in a circus with no one to talk to, you never learn proper English. I would have always spoken with incorrect grammar. Like broken English with no actual accent. I suppose that's why the townhouse would never answer that question. I'd leave out simple things like 'the' and'my' often. I knew that wasn't the question I wanted to know the answer to most. I would have wanted to know what was my purpose specifically. I suppose the townhouse figured that that's what I would have been asking since my English wouldn't have been that good. But it's answer was legit. It said nothing.