This is a short story, based on a writing prompt:

"Humanity was able to achieve world peace through a spell that transferred all their hatred into a child who would be born centuries into the future. Everyone in your society hears this story over and over again; you always hated it."

The child here uses e/em pronouns.

(E is nice. I like em. This is ems pencil. E knows emself very well.)

It took a bit of getting used to it, to write like this, but it's no rocket science.

(It was also written long before I started using the pronouns myself ;))

If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask!

_______________

All the time.
Every day, every hour people are telling this story, or that's how it seems to me.
And I hate it.
I hate it with every cell of my being.
But when I tell people as much they look at me like I'm the one, I'm the Child in that story, which I hate even more.
Because... I see where they're coming from, I do.
But they're wrong, and just because I'm able to dislike something doesn't make me the Child.
How can I be so sure, then, some people ask me, laughing over my anger.
It's simple.
I know the Child.
E is nice, friendly and calm, quite the opposite of what you would expect em to be.
I don't even know how we became friends anymore, but I remember very vividly the time e told me how ethought emself to be the Child.
Still, years later, I can hear ems whispered words, barely breaching the silence surrounding us, and how... afraid e sounded.
"It's... it's all in me", e admitted, watching me carefully like I might leave em any second,"all that anger, that hate. Everyone hated something, different things, and now it's inside of me, growing alongside me, burning and eating me from inside..."
Ems tears and breaking voice will never leave me, I think.
"It's not mine, it's not my hate,but it's inside me and it wants out. I- I'm afraid what happens if it manages to-"
E hadn't said more that day, and neither had I.
But it's possible that a small part of that anger in em went into me, and it's glowing inside me, and it's biting and growling at the people who tell this story like a fairy tale, like it's something good.
And I let it out at them, I let it bite with harsh words and loud statements, because they need to see.
(Some of the people that think I'm the Child immediately leave me alone like it's a disease they could catch, like I'm a monster.
I make sure e never feels like that.)
But the hate inside em is growing, and e starts lashing out at times, unable to contain anger that isn't ems, and I'm getting louder, because I need to help em.
I need to find a way to reverse whatever they have done.
I need to show those people that the Child, an innocent child burdened with all of the hatred in the world, is not the monster.
They are.

(And I may become one, too if I let that hatred inside me grow more. I can feel it twisting my thinking sometimes, but everytime it grows in me, the weight on em gets a little lighter, my voice gets a little louder. I'm becoming a monster too, but I'm prepared to make that sacrifice.)