This was something I wrote two years ago for a science benchmark. I don't know where I got the idea for it.

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It felt good to watch over the sea. It moved and glittered under her gaze as if it was maze out of the very sunlight it reflected. In a way, it was kind of sad, like a mother who gives everything but gets nothing for herself. The sadness relaxed her enough so that she could forget that she was moving and that there was something—an itch?--forming inside her for centuries now: a ruthless anger she could do nothing but suppress. It made her doubt who she was. It was as if she were morphing; she wasn't a violent person... most of the time. But times were changing. She could feel the oceanic plate dip underneath her and continue to move forward with—as it seemed to her—lightning speed. Until something like this happened to you, life as a continental plate was relaxing.

She turned her attention onto what she knew was her handsome neighbor, an oceanic plate, forcing himself to his ultimate doom—the mantle, hot with neighbors that had previously fallen. It wasn't his fault, though; she had heard from a passing scientist that he was more dense than her (she had always thought that this was a joke from her ancestor, who “chose” who was going to be pulled down there next, that they wanted smarter landmasses in the world), and would eventually melt into the mantle and die, returning to the earth through the volcanoes.

Suddenly, while she was amidst her thoughts, there was a sudden lurching that made her sick and distorted her view of the sea—was she being punished? She felt underneath herself and found that she had a red hot core and like her head was splitting open at the seams. That was when she realized that the pressure that had been forcing her apart had been released—right through the top of her head. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't.

Then she felt something buckle with a loud, screaming crack and her head shot up into the air. Her temper flared; it was out of control now, and she erupted again, relieving more of the pressure inside her. Something very hot rolled down her head, face, arms, and legs, burning her almost beyond her own recognition—wait, she had legs now? Yes, she was a volcano, a mother among her kind. As she erupted more, she regarded her new transformation as a blessing.