Life Letters

LifeLetters · 2019-09-29 05:52:11

Hey there; I semi-roleplay by writing my live's stories in first person.

I invite you to join in; put effort into your stories- make them readable. Your tale can come in any format: Letter, story, play, poem, etc., etc.! I'll try my best to give every life I play a unique story. I'll leave constructive criticism, and you should feel free to do the same.

~ Please leave your life's first and last name!

Please stay on topic! xoxo

InSpace · 2019-09-29 05:54:21

first

LifeLetters · 2019-09-29 05:55:22

"To Rock and Marya Oria, wherever you may be- You were the best family a woman could ever ask for. Rock- Papa, who kept me warm, fed me, and made me feel loved throughout my youth-filled years; I'm eternally grateful, and I'm glad you got to go out in a blaze of glory and laughter. Thank you for your guidance. I'll wear your clothing with pride.
And Mary, my baby. My youngest girl. My pride and joy, the only one who stayed in our home village. I loved you more than anything, but sadly you outlived your great papa by only five years. I wasn't able to help you when you were dying, and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for all the things I did wrong. I wish I was there more often. Thank you for everything.
To my other two children, Lamb and Skull. I hope you're doing okay. You left me, I wish you had stayed. I'm old now, on the brink of death, yet you're not here. I wish you'd come back for me. Your face would have lit up at the sight of your younger sister. I didn't get to see your entire lives, but I hope they were long and meaningful. I love you.
To my mother. You left me as a baby, but luckily my Papa took me in. I forgive you, and Papa taught me how to do that. Thank you for giving me a chance at life. I've lived such a good one, I hope you're proud.
I'm sending a picture of me with Mary and Papa's graves. I dug them myself. Please, write back. I'm tired."

-Eva Oria
Rock and Mary's Gravestones

YannaChan · 2019-09-29 14:36:07

To my son, Nate who stayed with me till the end

You decided to come with me on my journey to find the Navia's, As we continued to travel I started loosing hope but I still traveled on with you by my side, thank you for being a great son.

-Nikith Goosen

LifeLetters · 2019-09-29 17:36:34

"I was once young, and, boy, was I beautiful. I started out as a royal, being tended to day and night. I was dressed in the finest clothing available and fed every food possible. My mother, a poor woman, gave up everything she could to care for me- even going so far as letting me go. I was given pies and a knife to journey to the bell city, just 500-600 miles north-eastern of our humble village. As soon as I got there, the diversity was visible. There were at least twelve families there, all growing evermore.
As my 16th birthday approached, I had gotten familiar with my environment. I was a chef- and quite a good one. My sister, approaching 10 years, found our large city, that of which's population was decreasing. I taught her how to make pies and assigned her that lifelong task, which she excelled at. Though, she seemed to enjoy taking care of our children much more. I gave birth to three boys while in my thirties, one of which died near 4 years. Poor Chef. I'm not sure where my other two are now, but I can only hope they're safe. I baked pies and bread until I was nearing 45 years old, after which I decided the rest of my life would be dedicated to making fries, chips, and salsa. My last wish to my dear sister, Tina, is just to be buried by the kitchen which I spent my life in. I passed my clothing down to my son who decided to take my place as chef, and I gave my indigo dress to a young girl who seemed excited to have one of two in town. I hope she's doing well. I write this at the age of fifty-seven, to tell my tale; The tale of Tiana Dyke."

LifeLetters · 2019-09-29 18:45:16

Star Freedman; A disastrous life

As a young girl, I was the unnoticed out of my siblings; I was always in the background. I spent my early life dying clothes for the citizens of the city, along with my twin. Amber and I were constantly glued at the hip; wherever I went, she went. One day, while we were making red and blue dresses after going on a long material trip, our cart was stolen by a man. My uncle, in fact. I ran after him to get my cart back, and watched him put it in a pen. Amber, my twin, shoved me into the pen, urging me to get our mordant back. Reluctantly, I took a step in, only to see the gate shut behind me. At this point, I was nearing twenty years of age, and was terrified. My uncle, Oluwadunmininu Freedman, declared me as his wife and tried to starve me. I ate without him noticing, as I had pies in my bag. Over the ten years following my kidnapping, I had three boys in the pen- two of which was a pair of twins. They all died of unknown disease. Amber stayed by the pen, keeping me in high spirits the entire time. On the twelfth year of my kidnapping, a crowd formed. I had had another boy, this time a survivor. As food ran low, so did my morale. I was talking to my son, when the gate opened briefly. I ran out and hid behind a wall of people with Free, my son, in tow. Amber was ready and took the opportunity. She lunged at him but missed with her knife. She passed it on to me, and I went for him. I missed and rather hit Thomas, someone who had stayed there with Amber for years while I was imprisoned. He died shortly after. My uncle grabbed a knife of his own and mistook my twin for me, and stabbed my beloved Amber. I watched as my sister died, reassuring her everything would be okay. He starved the moment he killed her. Three people dead, I dragged my son away and showed him around. It was hard to cope, I was paranoid about everything. I eventually took a basket when I was about 45 years, grabbed my uncle's corpse, and ran. I ran to a town far away and dumped him there. The people, luckily, took the old hag, me, in. I tended to their bushes, until I couldn't take it anymore at age 55. I ran to be with the wilderness; to explore what the world had to offer. I died a few years later, at a ripe old age.

BlueDiamondAvatar · 2019-09-29 21:19:55

following

BlueDiamondAvatar · 2019-09-30 03:15:53

To my son, Enver Freedman,

I'm sorry I left so abruptly after your father's funeral. I just couldn't stay in town after he was gone. So many bittersweet memories.

But also, I had a vendetta to pursue back home. Our life in the Oil Town was so good, I never told you about the home I came from.

My mother was such a hard worker. As a baby I followed her as she zoomed about finished the sheep pen for our home. "We are settlers" she said. My grandma bequeathed me her clothes and I felt so lucky. I got the black dress, the backpack and a warsword, when most of my cousins were in single loincloths eeking out a living by the berry bushes. My mother warned me to stay near food, because we were dangerously low. It was a hard life.

But then it got harder. My Aunt Sandy went crazy and killed my mother for no reason at all. Said something silly about killing sheep. My mother was NO SHEEP, I can tell you that. I tried to hover near her as she passed, so I could grab her knife, but Sandy got it first. Actually, I'd never held a knife, so I'm not entirely sure I could have handled it anyway. I grabbed the wolfskin hat from my dead mothers head, and ran. I had already cursed Sandy, and she knew I would kill her if I could. I would have ended up dead if I stayed. So I ran. I'm not proud of that, but it's what I did to survive.

I'd heard the rumors about Oil Town - this big place where many families mixed, that didn't have enough people. I felt like... maybe I'd lived there in a previous life? It called to me. So I went. I picked up a few plates and some firewood along the way. Ran away from an Ethington town that wanted me to come join them, but chased me around endlessly while carrying a bow.

Almost as soon as I found Oil town, I ran into your father, Enver. He was so kind! When I gave birth to you, he showered you with gifts. The look on his face when I named you for him! It was priceless. He gave all of your siblings clothes, too.

The only time I doubted his loyalty was when he showed up with his own girl baby, Jules. I never understood him well, but I could tell he was saying she was his daughter. I was so ashamed! He'd slept with another woman! But then he said he loved me... and what could I do but forgive him? I loved him too. We raised her together. But she died to the dreaded DC/AFK disease.

But really, your father Enver Uno, was the best husband I could imagine having, even if I lived a hundred lives or more. I was proud to be with him. Did you realize he brought in three or four stacks of firewwod while you were growing up? That's a real great provider, I tell you.

Anyway, I got too old for babies, and I knew your sister had decided to leave town to raise her children. You and your brothers seemed happy, and then your father died... Thank you so much for translating for us at the end. I could understand some of his words by then, but it was always so much easier for you. I know you didn't want to know all those details about your parent's love life, especially the bit about the underpants, but I really appreciated you being there with us through the end. It meant the world to me.

But then he was gone, and my thoughts went straight to home. I suddenly realized that there was a chance that evil woman Sandy was still alive lording it over the dead remains of my mother. So right away, I grabbed a bow, fixed an old arrow, got a pie from the baker and headed back home.

When I got there, I was greeted by a cousin named Savior. She recognized me, because... she had been my mother in a past life! She knew all sorts of details. I guess we really are reincarnations! Anyway, she had already gotten rid of Sandy, and they badly needed an arrow to get the sheep to finish off the pen my mother had started years ago. I happily handed mine over for a much better cause than simple revenge.

So that's how my life is ending. Your sweet kind mother never had to kill a soul, and I'm spending the rest of my days getting soil to the withering berry patch of my old home.

If you want to come and visit my grave, the town is directly southwest of Oil town. You have to pass by an Ethington village. Your cousins could really use some iron, so if you could be a dear and run the diesel mine for them, I'd really appreciate it. There's no chance they'll find any in the picked over mountains.

My only regret is that I won't get to see you and your brothers off at the end. But you were all so much like your dad, I'm sure you had good lives. Share this with them, if they are still around.

Love always,
Jenna Freedman

miskas · 2019-09-30 14:14:20

I was Merida Dyke, a female born in a not super-advanced village, without a fence, with well engine, 2 cars, OIl but little to no Iron.
When I became older I gear up and tried to find some Iron.
In my journey south down the road I found our oil spot with 1 more free tar spot and a collapsed mine.
I looked some more but I couldn't find anything that would get me closer to Iron.
I found a gold crown though I placed it on my head and returned home with a bp full of scavenged things along the way.

At my surprise when I returned home our smith Had Iron! I ran all the village asking where that Iron came from.
I found a guy that said to me that he had stolen that from a living town, he wasn't proud of it but he did what he had too.
I thanked him none the less and before I leave the smith spot Another guy came. He was on a horse cart Full of Iron!
I was amazed! I quickly started to ask, From Where? , Do we have an engine?! He replied that the iron was from an abandoned town and Yes they had an engine that he was gonna bring right away!
Our town from nothing more than 2 steel ingots was now drowned in Iron, it was so much that we didn't need to go for more for decades to come.
I wanted to preserve that, so when the Young rider brought the engine I started to make a property fence to protect it.
That wouldn't be a city fence but a dedicated one, owned by the crown!
I farmed milkweed, made fence bundle and end up with a this!
http://prntscr.com/pcwxsb

Our town had also a king that I gave him ownership telling him to keep the tradition.
I gave my crown to my last son as he helped me to improve the engine treasury with Kerosin and chisels.
I was happy that my town now had two kings with a treasury to protect the city.

After I died though I saw that my Sun and heir had been murdered!
What happened Willson?! Is the engine ok? Plz, tell mommy!

http://lineage.onehouronelife.com/serve … id=5340734

Last edited by miskas (2019-09-30 16:30:44)

OZZYGECKO · 2019-09-30 16:16:36

Dear mother,

Did you know you left me alone in the dump of our "town". Did you know about the lack of soil, water and food. Do you know about the struggle of being almost naked while struggling for food with the little reasources avalible. Did you know you locked me in, the gates, shut unbudged. Why could you not open them.

I was born as Anna troll, only you and my sister were alive from our family, that soon changed. The childhood you gave me left me absent of siblings, and soon a you as all of you disapeared. I decided at a young age i would move for a better life. But mum, you shut the gate on me, i was stuck in this barren wasteland of a town. Struggling to survive i managed to grow two rows of carrots before i had my first child, azaleah, i told her of my plans to move and my struggles. As i was telling her the gate blocking me from the outside fell. Mother why did you die. Mother why did u leave me alone. Mother Why did i feel relief at your passing.

As my first child grew older, my second arrived, iris, I also disscused my intentions to her. When we my children could carry, we packed. I took a cart and they each took a bowl of berrys, we headed south following the directions of my girl, iris.Iris told us of another town that her spirt had occupuied in the past. In hopes to find it we trecked through dangerous territory of snakes, mosquitos and bear, as well as the threat of starving. difficult as it was, we continued on in search of a better life
Mother finnally our efforts were rewarded, we found a village, filled with different family's, they welcomed us with open gates. Azaleah decided to stay in this town, while my other daughter left to find the town of the past, taking a horse.
I died knowing i gave my children better chances, opening their gates to life
Mother i wish you opened the gate for me, maybe then i could have given you a chance.
- Anna troll

LifeLetters · 2019-10-02 02:32:05

I fell in love with the town's daschund, Jerry, as a young girl. He was small, brown, and oh-so round. I talked to the elder of the humble town and learned how to get pups, just like my beloved Jerry, who was due to die soon. I thanked him, and at the age of five, made my way to the mountains with nothing but the clothing on my back and a single chunk of mutton and a berry in my bag. Six hundred north, three hundred east. Still no wolf- but behold! A wolf; well, four. I struggled for years to get a wolf isolated, then fed. At that point, I had a lovely baby boy waiting with me- my first child. He snatched a german shepherd puppy and we made our way to the nearest bell; an isolated town that anyone could tell was once rich with culture. We stayed there and I taught my four sons how to breed dogs, eventually ending up with beagles and german shepherds running all over. I proposed an idea to my only remaining son when I was nearing forty-five: What if we went back to my hometown? His name was German, and he agreed. He snatched up one of 12-ish german shepherd pups, and we were on our way. Upon arriving back in my late fifties, the puppy whom we named Sav died, and so had most of the townsfolk. There were only around 10 people left. I made my way to my siblings, said my goodbyes, and told my son my final wish: I wanted him to bring pigs and dogs to my beloved home town. I told him to continue my legacy, to keep my name- Annorah Troller- alive.

TitaniaDioxide · 2019-10-13 01:39:51

To Leah Hoe:

I met you when you were just a wee toddler. Barely old enough to feed yourself, but still opinionated and determined. You and your sister were climbing all over me. Do you remember how fun that was? You saw me adopt my niece after her mom abandoned her, and you knew I needed to be your dad.

I'd already lived a good life, Leah. I'd gone after my aunt - she had gone to get rabbits before I was born and never came back. I finished her task, I clothed the village. The loincloth you wore was probably from my rabbits.

I loved you, Leah. I needed to be your dad, I needed to take care of you. And your mother. Whtiney. She was so beautiful. Her long hair, just barely going grey. Her misspelled first name. I fell in love with you, my child, and with your mother. Your mother and I spent several years courting each other. Feeding each other carrots, being in /love, having you and my nephew, Bill, translate for us. You didn't want to officiate, so we waited a while.

You didn't come to the wedding, Leah. Bill married us, under the tree east of town. We exchanged carrots, and plucked leaves to use as rings.

Bill was in love with you. I don't know if you ever knew. He told me, around when your mother and I got engaged. I was so excited for him to be my son-in-law. I knew you would love him - he was kind and intelligent. But after your mother and I were married, we went looking for you. My daughter, the one I adopted right before you, she said you'd gone north. But you'd died, Leah. You had made your way into a jungle, got bit. I couldn't protect you. I didn't know you were sick. I'm so sorry, Leah. I wish I could have saved you. I should have saved you.

We mourned. We planned a memorial for you. Your mother was heartbroken. She passed away before we could hold your funeral.

I buried her under our wedding tree. I went to find Bill. He was hurting. There was a redhead by the fire. She seemed sweet, had a daughter I think. Maybe a son. You know how babies all look alike. Her name was Whitney. It was fate - or maybe it was grief, but it doesn't matter - Bill was in love again. He still mourned you. He would never have forgotten you, but he was happy. Whitney's child promised to marry them some day.

I knew I was dying. I said my last goodbyes. I was proud. We had brought the town from a tiny camp to a bustling town. Bill promised to bury me with your mother. We'll spend the rest of the eons under our wedding tree. We remembered you, Leah.

It was a good life. I'm glad I met you, Leah.

Last edited by TitaniaDioxide (2019-10-13 01:40:03)

LifeLetters · 2019-10-26 18:54:17

~A Biography by Fernando, "Fern", Rohrer-Merrow~

The light's what startled me awake, what let me see my mother's face. Dull, dead. My mother was nothing more than a braindead vegetable. Crying, I looked around and found nobody over here, nobody over there. There's no point in crying now, I thought. Nobody will hear. I lay down next to my mother, going into what I thought was my eternal slumber.

I jumped as I felt something touch me. A wasp? A bear? My vision was still fuzzy. I looked up and could see only white. Wait- t'was a face! I felt around for anything to eat, and found a clump of something. Yum, this tastes nice? Once full, I looked up once more to see a beautiful, pale woman. She set me down and picked up her own boy, paler than she. "Let's find a good name for you, shall we?" Her voice was gentle and soothing. Being grabbed again, I heard "Your name is Fernando." That sounded nice.

Waddling with my new ma and my two pale brothers, I boasted my apron with the funny red mark and my soft fur loincloth. I gave my bag to my brother Alex, though. He needed it more than I. I asked my ma what I should become, and she told me being a nurse would fit me just right. She commended me for giving away my bag, which was a scarce article of clothing, and handed me hers. Off I go.

Nothing to do, nothing to see, I ran around, now as a young man nearing his eighteenth birthday. I'd had no nursing to do, so I'd began making a graveyard. Mother helped me every so often, pointing me to the skeletons laying around. Rows of 10 x 2 are what I organized them as- it made for a neat look. After years of this, there were no skeletons left to bury; everyone was young except for my mama and my biological aunties. I had to bury my second brother, and I hadn't seen my first, Alex, anywhere around. I began burying the bodies I found, and as I used the shovel more and more, my hand became steady. I learned how to keep my hand steady while using a knife to extract arrowheads from my beloved family. I learned how soft a touch should be when cleaning a wound. I learned the precise movements needed to sew a wound closed. As an expert, I was ready to face anything.

Old & crippled, my mama was just barely making it. She couldn't have had two years left. I was met by her smiling face while tending to the graveyard. "Son, my death song is playing. May I stay with you?" I let her know, of course, and decided to keep her company. We reminisced on our youth and laughed about the good times as she seemed to practically decay away. She stayed with me for less than two years, before gasping her final breath. "Goodbye, and thank you." I wished I had heard her say more. I buried her separate from the rest, and chiseled "Mother" onto it. I went miles to retrieve flowers for her. Her grave was much more than the rest, and I thought her worthy of it. I grabbed her clothes and gave it to the baby boys; the girls were spoiled enough.

Then came the great massacre. A bear wandered into town, hungry for flesh and craving our meat. I was bitten thrice but saved at least three young girls and a boy, no older than five. My biological nephew helped save the lives of many, and saved me all three times I was gravely wounded. I learned to use a bow, and though my hand was unsteady, I put an arrow into the bear. An old skilled archer, the blackest of skin tones, shot the third arrow into the bear with amazing accuracy and speed. After the harrowing ten years were over, I re-met my brother, Alex. We were both old, looking no better than shriveled grapes. We gathered a crowd and told them of our reunion, of our mother and our past. Their hardworking ancestors, how they lived in peace and built the grand town for us, how they fed their mothers and fathers so they could live on. Then, in front of the crowd, I, Fernando Merrrow, declared peace with my long-lost brother, Alex Rohrer. We made our way to the side of our mother's grave, and reminisced on our youth, and our family. Before long, I could see only what I'd seen once before; the light. The light I was born out of, and the light I'd go back to once my life left. As my brother took his last breath, so did I.

Mother: http://lineage.onehouronelife.com/serve … id=5430424
Alex: http://lineage.onehouronelife.com/serve … id=5430424
Me: http://lineage.onehouronelife.com/serve … id=5430425

One Hour One Life Forums

#1 2019-09-29 05:52:11

Life Letters

Hey there; I semi-roleplay by writing my live's stories in first person.

Please stay on topic! xoxo

#2 2019-09-29 05:54:21

Re: Life Letters

#3 2019-09-29 05:55:22

Re: Life Letters

#4 2019-09-29 14:36:07

Re: Life Letters

#5 2019-09-29 17:36:34

Re: Life Letters

#6 2019-09-29 18:45:16

Re: Life Letters

Star Freedman; A disastrous life

#7 2019-09-29 21:19:55

Re: Life Letters

#8 2019-09-30 03:15:53

Re: Life Letters

#9 2019-09-30 14:14:20

Re: Life Letters

#10 2019-09-30 16:16:36

Re: Life Letters

#11 2019-10-02 02:32:05

Re: Life Letters

#12 2019-10-13 01:39:51

Re: Life Letters

#13 2019-10-26 18:54:17

Re: Life Letters

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