a multiplayer game of parenting and civilization building
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Today as i and the other women had no girl but boys the sweet Golda dynasty ended, slowly.
The girls from town had only boys who made it, and for me it was only boys and no one made it. Suddenly it was only me, my old cousin iroh and men. But men of Golda town was working hard. As i became old we all stayed together even if doomed, working and chatting quietly till the end.
There was north of town an empty house and we started in a library to say our fate to newcomers and let something else than food or compost. John let us without a goodbye, bitten to death. Peace on him. I came second, near my friends. The kind of life you remember but just for good people, not for drama or specific events
I wonder if you are here, Tony, Benjamin, Peter, John. Are you forum users ? Have you enjoyed this life as i did ?
PS : mom you was nice too, with your CX expressions, quiet as this life.
Last edited by Dacen (2018-10-04 21:35:17)
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I remember that life. I was born to a lively town of busy and chatty people, took a liking to the berries, and kept tending to them all through my old age. So much people came to the garden, we had to constantly tend to the bushes. From this garden I noticed as time passed that fewer and fewer people came, but kept tending the bushes, growing carrots and wheat and shoveling dug to keep the supply of soil from running out and starting a famine. As fewer and fewer people toiled the soil by my side, my workload increased, and I didn't realize what catastrophy had struck us untill that moment I asked Benjamin where all the children were.
I was nearing 50 years by that point I think. There were no more children, I was told. And only one woman left, unable to carry more children. It was a very sad realization, as I contemplated all that composting compost and the extension of the bush garden and the rows for carrots and wheat which I had made, and the road that had been patiently built by others, and the buildings that had been erected, the kitchens halted in their busy cooking and stewing...
My village was dying, as well as our line, and I was cursed with being among the last remaining inhabitants. I pictured myself roaming the emptiness of a once thriving town, like a ghost haunting the ruined hall of a derelict castle.
I don't remember who suggested that we leave notes in the empty house northeast of town, to tell our tale and pass on some knowledge of our existence to future generations, but that cheered me up immediatly. Yes, we would be the last of the Goldas, but our legacy could remain, our names remembered, if only some new people were to find, settle and rejuvinate our town.
Comforted by the thought, I worked harder still, intent on leaving the farms in working order for the next inhabitants. As my turn to write a note came, I made sure to mention the names of all three remaining living humans in the village: John, Benjamin and myself, who all shared the Golda beard. I remember Benjamin telling me later how John had died right in the library, before he went and joined him there. After watering the last two bushes that needed tending, I joined them, and witnessed as Benjamin passed.
I too settled in the library, our hall of memory and our tomb to be, and there waited to be reunited with my Golda bretherns in the afterlife. My last moments were spent reading through our notes to posterity, like messages in a bottle, before I took my final resting place beside Benjamin, by the entrance. My final thoughts were of the time when I was a toddler roaming through the bushes with many other children, while our mothers were chatting by the fire holding newborn babes.
I was the last of the Goldas. My name was Peter.
Last edited by Hiboupreufen (2018-10-05 23:17:20)
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