It had started out a nice place. The village had obviously been around for a handful of generations, the most needed tools had been smithed and the farm was pretty developed. There was even a bakery. I was born into the 14th generation. My mother had been the only girl to live, giving birth to me and my three siblings. Two boys and two girls. Ironically, I was her first son and also her second/last. The first time I admittedly suicided, bored of being a boy in previous lives so I ran for the hills. Next life I was born to an Eve who I’m assuming had just recently spawned, looking back instinctively to my cries for a split second before continuing her journey south. I ran on my little legs after her until I realized it was too late, she had abandoned me. Again I was born to my first mother. Even more ironically she named me the same as my previous life. I contemplated the thought of running off again, slightly pursueded by the lackluster name choice. But after looking around a bit more out of sheer curiousity, it was obvious to me that the place was already great but needed some work. No one had been tending to the farms, which is understandable considering it was only my mom left from her gen and she was preoccupied with popping out/feeding kids.
I spent the first few years of my life working hard to revive the farm, then some more making pies. My little sister had a son, then promptly starved as the berries were not yet in fruitation. The poor boy starved in the footsteps of his mother.
My big sister lived to be 23 and had two girls. The first seemed to be on a mission to get puppies and lost her life at the age of 11. Another girl! I was hopeful. Until my sister also gave in the starvation, falling into a pile of bones with her baby girl in her arms. Oh no! I put the baby over a fire and fed her berries, giving her some clothing and a backpack. I ran off to find my mother to ask if anyone else was still alive. As I was typing out “Mom, is anyone left?” she frantically called out for wood and two seconds later followed in the footsteps of her children. I was traumatized. My entire family had just died in front of my eyes and all that was left was my sister’s child and I. I tried talking with toddler, who appeared to have gone brain dead from the age of 2 after she fell atop her mother’s bones.
I kept her alive despite the fact she was no longer with us. She was the only baby pooper left. I tended to the farm and continued working around the place checking in every so often to feed her. I began to dismay, had her fertility gone dead along with her brain? Perhaps she was more traumatized than I had imagined. I stayed somewhat close in case she had a baby, I needed to be able to hear it. Eventually I starting giving up hope, just starting to run off in search of soil, when I heard the glorious sound of a fetus screaming their little lungs out. I turned back immediately and quickly fed the child a berry. I didn’t care that he was a boy, I named him and told him about his braingone mother. I was overjoyed that I finally had a companion. I gave the boy my mother’s backpack and clothes, feeding him into adulthood. I showed him around and the important places, such as the well and where to find soil. A sweet boy he was, getting to work as soon as he was old enough. I begged him to stay safe and he was on his way.
Alas, another child was born! I nurtured him as well. I began telling him the story about our village and his mother, filled with joy. However in his curiousity, amidst a question he had ignored me preceding him to say “f” for food, joining my mother and siblings at their gravestone.
Then fortune struck. A girl was born!! I frantically fed her and named her Hope. The child tried running to her mom, expecting her to pick her up and take care of her. Saddened, I told her of her mother’s mental absence. She seemed to understand, so I carried her off to show her the lay of the land. I fed her more often than I should have, too scared of her following in my family’s cursed path. Hope. That’s what she was for this village, and that’s what she filled me with once again. God bless her tiny soul, she asked me how she could help. I told her full of emotion just to survive. And that she did.
Two sons followed, whom I gladly raised and loved them as their mother would. This village (quite literally) finally had hope. They were also such great boys, either helping me feed their mother occasionally or working on the farm. Judging by his last words, one had even caught us some sheep and a horse. The fourth daughter was blessed upon us on like a gift, hence I named her Grace. She looked just like my own late mom. And as soon as she was older and off on her own, she too succumbed to my poor mother’s fate.
No time was wasted, another beautiful girl popped out of her absent mother. I ran to feed her like the others, but was relieved to see Hope nurturing her sister in her arms. Her brothers also tried to feed her berries. I was so proud of these children who I loved as my own. Not only where they making the village a better place, they also were the kindest of souls and did their best to care for the babies, almost like I had done for them. I started a carrot farm in preparation for sheep, knowing future generations will need to eventually make compost. I made as much food as I could so no one would starve as most of my dear family had. I tended to the berry bushes some more, fixed the sheep pen, and cleaned up some of the mess around the place.
By the time my end was near, the village was doing so well! It was alive again! I can’t put into words how happy I am to have not only saved the village but to have raised such wonderful, kind babies.
I said my goodbyes beside the berry farm, near my birthplace. My children were there, seeing me off. One daughter called me her mom, holding a baby in her arms, wishing me goodbye. I smiled brightly at the sight. Though it was my end, it was just the beginning. Our family lived the whole way to generation 33! I can only wonder what my home had looked like after that many generations. My children and I had set them up for success. I find it kind of ironic once again that at gen 33, all the babies had starved to death hence the end of our family. A curse it was, but a blessing mingled itself in as well. Those lovely children and their children, so forth. My Hope had gave the village just that. One of my greatest lives indeed.
If any of those children find this, I love you. I’m so glad you all died only to the hands of old age. I hope that means I had made enough food and tools for you to live happily. Keep being the adoring people you are. Just as my final words to you guys in game, “stay safe” lovelies.
Link to the family tree (I was Naruto): https://onehouronelife.app.link/RyYHNvlaWT