-The Tale Of Jamaica-
The only sound on the pristine beach that day was the water softly hitting the shore and the birds singing their morning melodies. The world was silent here and it looked as if the world was going to keep it that way too as the breeze blew the soft kinks in the child's hair in silence. Even the waters she was mildly submersed in was striving for stillness, but the soft ebb and flow could never be fully halted. Maybe that is why the child continued to sleep peacefully ...
A small woman walked slowly across the sandy shore, taking in the view of her island with as much silence as the rest of nature. It took her a moment to notice the small girl in the water, but when she did, she took a quicker pace and knelt down in the pliable sand. Why was such a pretty little girl alone and half-submerged in the water? The child's chest slowly rose and fell, indicating she was not a victim of death, but still why was she alone? Was she human … or perhaps a new tribe?
But this was already the woman's island, the Arawak. It has been hers for centuries and her people lived on this plentiful and beautiful island happily. How could this child be a tribe if a tribe was already here …?
Nevertheless, Arawak gently scooped the naked girl out of the ocean and onto her equally bare chest, smiling warmly at her calm features. If this was a human, then she was different from her people. The skin was too dark for her to be an Arawak, and her head was not long and flat. But if she wasn't human …
The native nation tensed at the idea, but she shook it off.
Still, as she looked at the little girl's face … life was going to change drastically for Arawak and the child that slept soundly in her arms, and not for the better. She knew it and did not question how.
Arawak looked down at the child again. She was a pretty thing; worry ate at the Arawak tribe as she swept and hand across her cocoa skin. Holding her closer, she looked into the sky, praying to the gods her vow to protect this gift given by them as long as she could.
Again, she did not question how she was so sure trouble was headed for this girl. She only knew.
The wonderings and ominous foretelling followed behind her as she journeyed back to the tribe, her island's future still slumbering quietly in her arms.
(People watching for my Ask Italia Bros. update are going to kill me, heh heh ...)
This is a story concept that has been gnawing at me for a while.
Many of you know and love Jamaica (maybe not my OC, but the place, yes.). A lot of you have bought into the idea that it is the the place of paradise, love, joy, and whatnot. Many do not know her story.
Basically, this would be a story compiled of "first-hand accounts": letters, other people's POV, conversations, anything you can think of. Jamaica won't tell the story (except for her toddler view of it). Everything else will.
Enjoy its prelude and please inform if this is a good story to continue.
