a multiplayer game of parenting and civilization building
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this has been sitting in my wips for a long, long time. just a bit after cows were implemented, actually. so, since ive stopped playing the game altogether at this point, im giving up on truly ever finishing this, and just posting this as is. i didnt know quite as much about the game back then as i do now- or rather, as i used to, since i havent played in a long while- and this life has become one of many ive played, so i cant even remember most of the details, nor do i have a link to the lineage. all i can really give you is the little details i have saved from my notes, which isn't much, and hazy details. after where i stopped i was supposed to add in: being named after dropping off jamie, cooking the rabbits, giving john the knife, his pure fence sheep pen, and passing on after meeting zoe’s son, my first great grandson. but, seeing as it'll likely never be finished now, i shall give it to you as is. so i present you, the unfinished story of sally.
I was born to a mother with another daughter already in her arms. She hesitated for a moment, obviously not sure about putting her older daughter down, but did so after a moment, picking me up and allowing me to fill my stomach, before setting me back down and doing the same to my older sister. There was another moment of hesitation, listening to the cries that left my throat, before she picked me back up. She looked to my sister, who wore a skirt made of reeds, then sighed as she took the skirt she wore off and slid it up onto my waist, adjusting the rope that held it together so it wouldn’t slide off of me so easily.
“Follow,” was all that she said to my older sister, before running off. My mother ran for a bit, only stopping at a berry bush to eat a few berries off the bush, as my sister ran up to clumsily grab a handful of them herself, shoving them in her mouth. Seeing that my sister no longer needed to be breastfed, she let her continue on, making her way to town. The signs of village life started to appear, chopped trees and empty berry bushes lining a clearing. The last of the fully grown trees is where my mother collapsed, and I found myself tumbling to the ground. Turning to look at my mother, a cry building up in my throat, I found my mother’s body limp, and unresponsive to my whines. Knowing that I wouldn’t make it, unable to survive on my own at such a young age, I ran towards where I knew town had to be.
My cries of hunger broke through the mostly silent village air, easily interrupting the sounds of adults hard at work throughout the town, and I found an older lady tending to the heat of the forge. My whines for food were quickly answered, the last berry of a nearby bush smooshed between her fingers and pushed between my lips. I suckled on it, since I didn’t quite have the teeth to chew it, allowing the juices to run down my throat with bits of the berry following after, before the older woman looked around the town, seeing no one in sight.
“Where’s your… What the...” she mumbled, before sighing and moving me to the nearby fire, as if accepting that my mother had to be dead without even seeing her body. I stayed nearby, finding that standing too close to the flames were too hot for my still fragile body, but not wanting to leave where I had been left. I was content to sit there, knowing that the lady I would later find to be my grandmother would keep me fed until I was old enough to follow suit in my older sister’s ways.
It wasn’t too long after I felt the pangs of hunger start to gnaw at my stomach again that another woman ran into town, holding a little boy around my age close to her chest. He was sat carefully next to where I was, before she ran off to grab something to eat for herself. When she came back, I whined for her attention, desperate for even a little bit of relief from the way my stomach ate at itself, and was quickly rewarded with being picked up and allowed to nurse. Once I had my fill, I was set back down and her son was given the same treatment, before she was off again, leaving us to the town with our elderly grandmother, my older sister, and the uncles and male cousins who toiled away. What she was doing, I couldn’t say, for I never saw her again after that, and never did manage to find her body in my later years, as I roamed around town while gathering supplies.
It wasn’t much longer after I was fed by who I knew deep down had to be my aunt, for she looked too much like my mother to not be so closely related to her, that I found I could grab a nearby basket from the ground, and hold it with control over my actions without worrying about my grip being too weak to support it. I set it back down, feeling my hunger drain, and ran off, desperate for food. Nothing was in town, I found. My grandmother had fed me the last of the berries from the dying bushes, and the only other thing in town was stew that was too much for my young teeth. I ran to the wilderness, in search of wild berry bushes like that of which I had seen my mother eat from before she passed, and found one full not too far from where my mother’s body lay.
I ate until my stomach ached from being so full, content for the first time in my life since my mother’s death, and grabbed an extra handful of berries for the road back home, hoping that I could find more food in town then. As soon as I ran back into town square, ready to tell my grandmother about what happened to my mother, I found the hungry wails of the boy close to my age reaching my ears. My mission forgotten, and finding the berries I had brought back home mostly smashed in my palm, I pushed the paste passed my cousins lips, his cries instantly silencing.
My cousin looked at me with intelligent eyes, bright and full of wonder, before he toddled over to the stew section of town. He managed to point towards the corn stalk growing next to a sprout of squash, and it hit me then there was something in town we could eat. I grabbed an ear of corn from the ground without thought and shoved it into a bowl, running back to the fire and heating it up. Just as the popping stopped and the food inside finally cooled down enough to eat, my cousin was able to grab a log and toss it into the flames, keeping the fire going for a little bit longer. He garbled something close to a thanks, his speech still as infantile as my own, and I ate a bit of the popcorn myself, before passing him the bowl.
Once we were both full, the bowl was sat down next to the fire, as if inviting another child to grab it up, and I realised upon looking to my cousin, that neither of us had a name. The family name did not continue with us, for neither of us even had anything to call each other, and I ran to my grandmother, hoping desperately for help. I wanted to keep the family name going, and while my cousin set to work on the fields, fixing the bushes that were nearing death’s door.
I chased my grandmother around the village for what felt like forever, begging for a name, and knowing that soon I would be too old for it to take place. However, despite my attempts, my grandmother didn’t notice me until it was too late, and found I was too heavy for her frail bones to pick up, leaving me nameless and without the family name to pass on. It saddened me, knowing my children would hold no name, but a part of me was hopeful. My older sister had a name, perhaps I could get her to give it to my children, if they were to ever come…?
That was the hope that left me running through town for the next few years, doing every little thing I could to improve the dying village. I helped my cousin gather much needed soil for the bushes, adding them to the ones that needed it, and watering them to help them grow. Once I noticed the shovel sitting next to an empty near by pond, I fetched rocks for the pond that had dried up nearest to the bushes, and along the years it took me to drag back enough rocks in all the right sizes, I found myself dodging dangerous animals that lurked just on the edge of town, knowing that it would be a death sentence if I were to dare let myself be bit by one of the monstrous snakes lurking in the grass, or be gored by the boars that roamed the country side. Thankfully, I avoided such incident, and returned home unscathed again and again.
Then, finally, once I had a reasonable amount of the rocks blocking the sides and figured it wouldn’t leak, I dug down into the earth, until water began to flow upwards and made the new well another source of water for the town. Satisfied with my work, I stepped back to admire it, and stepped away for a moment, only to see my sister coming running up. Blood leaked from the wound in her side, two seemingly perfect little holes that screamed she had been bitten by a snake. I barely had time to say my goodbye as she gurgled out the animal that had bit her, before she fell to the ground, the corners of her mouth foaming as she convulsed, before she went limp, much like my mother had before.
I decided then that I had enough of watching my family die, not even stopping to witness my family mourn, and I ran out of town without another thought of what it might mean, only deciding as an after thought that I would catch rabbits once I saw a knife my grandmother had made laying on the ground. That would be a good excuse to leave town, right? I cobbled together a poor attempt at a snare that I couldn’t have been more thankful actually worked, grabbed a spare basket laying around town, and took off into the woods.
It took me a bit to find any rabbits near home, though I tried not to stray too far from where I knew. I ate the wild berries and roots I could get my hands on as my hunger nipped at my stomach, and returned to town once I knew I could carry no more in my meager basket. I made this trip twice, before I realised I had enough to make a backpack for myself. With one, I could stay away from town for longer periods of time, and I could carry more rabbits back at once… I didn’t stop to think twice, quickly making a backpack for myself, and came to show my cousin my achievement.
He was near the stew plants when I came up to him, sparkling in all his glory, and I noticed there was not a single sound in the town. Two nameless orphans, young but working hard on making the town better… I thought to name him then, give him something at least I could call, and his name left my mouth, short but sweet.
“You are Sam,” I said, and he barely seemed to notice, toiling away on his work, and I tried not to feel heartbroken that he didn’t return the favour. Try as I might, I still felt myself ache inside. I didn’t stay long in town after that, not with so little to keep me there, and found myself running back to the rabbits, the snare and knife securely in my bag, and a basket in my hands. I once again consisted of wild roots and berries, even as my hunger increased, and my stomach swelled. I knew it was Sam’s, he was the only man in town after all. I wondered through my pregnancy if it was fate, that we had been the ones who had been left on purpose. One man, one woman, meant to rebuild a collapsing city together...
Months passed, and there, surrounded by the roaming buffalo and the rabbits peeking from their holes, that I felt pain overtake me. It was a deep pain, one that I could have never expected, and with it, my first daughter was born. She had Sam’s caring eyes, and I scooped her up without a second thought, cradling my newborn close to my chest. My basket forgotten, I carried the infant back to town, to Sam, and sat her down near the smith’s station, where my grandmother had once worked so hard.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a family name to give you,” I said to my daughter, though she seemed to care naught, and it was there I named her Jane. I carried her around the town, showing her what it had to offer, before I ran across Sam. I didn’t dare say a word about Jane, and he didn’t either, barely giving me more than a passing greeting then, and I was once again left with an ache in my heart that I wondered if would ever heal.
It wasn’t long after my daughter started to clumsily grab a bowl off the ground that I decided I had to get back to my job. She would be okay, Sam was there to watch her after all. He was a good man, he could bond with his daughter, right? Besides, clothes would be needed to keep the children warm, and I set off towards where I knew my basket and snare laid. However, the pain overcame me not very far from town, and I found myself going through it alone, once again. This time, I bore a son, one I named John, and ran off into the woods. Sam could meet him later, I thought grimly, harboring a bit of the ache still in my heart, and I needed to get my basket, before it became one with the earth. John would be okay with the ride, I rationalized to myself, though I knew the baby cared naught for what I did, as long as he was held and fed.
It was easy, to trace my way back to my basket, the area memorized as it was from the trips I had taken out in the years of my life, and I couldn’t help smiling as I sat John down, his little legs wobbling slightly but able to stand all their own. He looked up at me quizzically, and I tilted my head towards where I knew town was. Like my mother before me, I repeated the word that could have doomed us both.
“Follow,” I said, and to my boy’s credit, he did exactly that. He never whined or cried the entire trip back home, hanging on my skirt’s edge practically the whole way, and I was proud of him. Unlike my own mother, I made sure to eat along the way, so my boy could be provided for, and not left alone like I had been. He was such a good boy, and I couldn’t have been prouder to have called him my son. I didn’t know how Sam would feel, nor did I care all that much right then, for I had a child I loved that needed my help.
John spent his infant years in the wild, unlike the care of the village his sister lived in, but he never complained, never said a single ill word to me about it. Once we made it back to town, I barely had time to show him around, to show him to Sam, before he was wiggling to get down, eager to work on whatever his little mind had been set on. I could see Sam talking to our- no, my- daughter, and our affair was as short as it had been when Jane had been growing up. I knew it left me pregnant, I knew I had a life inside me again, but still, I ran from town as soon as I was able, looking for more rabbits, for more excuses.
And once again, I barely made it out of town before the pain erupted in me. Blood trickled down my legs and I heard the gurgle of what I could only assume was my daughter’s first and last cry, before she passed on, leaving me unable to even name her, or hold her soft body once. The miscarriage broke me more than it should have, perhaps because of the way I had seen my mother’s and sister’s life fade before my own eyes, or perhaps because it reminded me that what I had done was wrong. It was a punishment, for what me and Sam had. I knew it. It broke my heart to admit to even myself, but I knew it was wrong, we had made a mistake. I shouldn’t continue with what I had done, I couldn’t… But… I had to. I couldn’t just leave the town to my only son and daughter, I couldn’t leave them to feel the pressure I had when I had returned home to see only Sam awaiting me, everyone else long dead and buried by none other than Sam himself.
I ran back into town, the blood washed away in a nearby pond, and without a sign of the pain I had suffered alone, and ran to my daughter, knowing she’d be by the berry bushes in my heart. I needed comfort, something Sam couldn’t provide, and while Sam didn’t love me enough to name me, maybe… Maybe Jane could call me something besides ‘mom’. It was the only chance I had, if I ever wanted something to go by, besides, of course, nameless orphan.
“Can you do me a favour?” I asked my daughter, not even fully in front of her yet, and she looked up from where she was tending the bushes, wonder in her eyes at what her mother could possibly be asking her. She hadn’t seen me since she was a young child, so of course it would be a surprise for me to run up to her and ask her for something, especially without even saying where I had been. Still, the words left my mouth without thought. “I want you to name me.”
“Oh. Okay.” My daughter went back to work, and I hesitated, wondering if she was actually going to do it. She wasn’t even a teenager yet, barely up to my shoulder, so maybe she had decided she owed me nothing, and wouldn’t do it. I still took a couple tentative steps after her when she moved too far away, and she turned to meet my eye, hesitation present there just beneath the surface. “Later. I can’t… Talk too well.”
“...alright,” was all I thought to say, and I dropped the subject, even as Sam ran by, lugging a cart he had no undoubtedly built by himself during the years I had left him alone. The exchange was as brief as always, and I managed to sneak off into the woods as he later talked to Jane, not even bothering to listen in on the conversation. If I had known that would be the last time I saw Sam, perhaps I would have said something. Something sweet, something heartfelt. Something about how ruggish he looked, how the kids had his intelligent eyes, how I had miscarried in the woods. But instead, I ran from the boy I had known all my life, I ran past John, who was hard at work to his own devices on what I later found to be a wooden sheep pen, and kept running, only the weight of a basket in my hands and bag on my back to keep me company.
The wilderness greeted me like an old friend, and I found myself drawn to stay longer than I ever had before. I knew I couldn’t, I knew I had to
go home eventually, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to face Sam, or Jane. I didn’t want to see what town had become while I was gone again. Nature, of course, had other plans, and next to a duck that floated peacefully in a nearby pond, my last child was born. A little girl I named Jamie, who was nothing if not recessive genes from me and Sam both, and I knew I had to take her home. The wilderness would not be kind to such a fair skinned little child, not with the animals lurking nearby and the harsh rays of the sun beating down on us both.
Jamie grew quick on my trek home, and by the time I managed to get her home, she was almost big enough to run off and leave me heartbroken. However, the thought slipped from my mind as I ran into town, greeted by the sound of nothing other than a cry of a newborn. A newborn that wasn’t my own.
Zoe, my daughter had named her, was a beautiful little girl, and my first grandchild. A wonderful girl I didn't dare wonder about the parentage of, for fear of breaking my own heart, and simply loved all the same. She was beautiful, and to me, that was all that mattered.
Last edited by alphabetter (2019-06-15 10:52:00)
i used to name my kids alphabetically. now i just... dont play anymore.
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