This is something I wrote a while back....it's not the best but here it is. Please excuse any mistakes you see

The Language of Love

The dark skinned girl had gone up a tree attempting to find a good spot to catch a fish. As she searched around the island she spotted something on the shore. It appeared to her as a giant fish. The ocean breeze played with the girl's dark hair as she licked her lips. 'Fish for months....'.she thought as she slid down the tree and headed for the giant fish.

As she got closer, the girl realized that maybe it wasn't a fish. There were people (people!) coming of the giant thing (not a fish but what was it?). She remained hidden among the lush foliage as she watched the people. There was one among the newcomers that caught her eye. He had hair the color of the sun (of course you couldn't look at the sun for very long but she looked at the man's hair for what seemed like ages). The girl shifted slightly in her hiding spot but stepped on a small twig below. She froze. A small crack was heard and the man with the sun-colored hair looked towards the sound. He was looking at her. She bolted away.

France woke with a start. He had been dreaming about that person he saw the first day he arrived on the island. He had spent every day since then looking for that person, but with no luck. There was no way he'd be able to fall back asleep again so he decided to go for a walk around the island. The moon was full and had turned night into an artificial day. 'It would be perfect to find that person with these conditions,' he thought. But then he laughed softly to himself. He had probably just been seeing things. After all he had been on a ship for days.

France rounded a small part of the island and reached an inlet. The moon reflected off the water in a way that the Frenchman would have probably appreciated. But the beauty of the moon's reflection was not the thing that made him gasp. A girl was standing in the ocean, the water coming well above her knees. Her blue dress billowed in the water as she glanced around in the darkness below her. France stared. She was the person he saw that first day. The person that had stalked his dreams since then.

As he got closer, he saw the girl dive into the water, arms surrounding something. She struggled for a short time then emerged with a large fish in her hands and a triumphant smile on her face. It was then that she noticed him.

The girl froze. That man! The moonlight made his yellow hair glow stronger than before. The man came forward slowly with a kind smile on his face. "Bonjour," he said with one hand outstretched. She didn't understand so she handed her fish over to him. He looked surprised at first but smiled once again with his hand reaching out. The girl waved her hands to show him that she didn't have anymore fish but the man just grasped one of her hands gently and raised it to his lips. "Bonjour," he said again. "Bonzour," she replied as she tried to mimic his voice. "Bonzour."

France was entranced by her. She looked fragile, as if she was made of glass but at the same time she seemed to have a hidden source of strength. That part was obvious every time he saw her wrestle fish her size into submission. Even her name made France happy. She was called Seychelles. Just saying her name made his tongue tingle with excitement. She was beautiful but she did not know how to speak any languages. France wanted to change that so he slowly taught her French. It didn't matter to him that she seemed to be creating her own language as well. "Oui," he would say. She would repeat it, "Oui." And then giggle and change it to her new language. "Wi,"she would say with a smile.

The days went by. France would wander around the island with Seychelles, teaching her French as she played. "Ma chérie, you're hair is a mess. Let me fix it." It was tangled up from a day of romping around the island. Seychelles gave a small pout then flounced into France's lap as he sat on the beach. France pulled a seashell brush and two bright red ribbons out of his pocket. "A gift to you," he said as he began to brush her long dark hair. Then they were silent. France tied one of the ribbons to secure her hair in a pigtail. "Merci…" Seychelles whispered. France had begun to secure her other pigtail when he stopped. He looked surprised but then smiled. "You said than in actual French this time." Seychelles felt the blood run to her face. At least her skin was dark enough that he couldn't see her blush. "I meant mersi!" France laughed and finished tying the ribbon in her hair. "Perfect," he said. He kissed her on her forehead then whispered in her ear. "Je t'aime."

He had whispered this to her every night and she did not know what it meant. Until now. Seychelles heard now his tone of voice changed when he said those words. It was softer, more gentle, and caring. He also had given her those gifts. And he was so happy when she had said thank you in proper French rather than her Seselwa. The blood rose to her face again as she turned to face France.

"Je t'aime," she said then kissed France softly on his lips. Startled he fell backwards onto the sand pulling Seychelles down with him. They kissed again. Longer this time. They lay there on the beach and kissed until the ocean's tide encased the two in its jewel-like waters.

The days turned into months and months into years. France taught Seychelles everything about French. Or so she thought. "I'm an expert French speaker now," she said laughingly. France did not dare look her in the eyes. "Mm…yes…" he said quietly. "You know everything about the language." France felt guilty. There was still something he hadn't taught her. One single word. He didn't want to tell her. There was no need for that word right now. But he knew the day would come when he had to teach her that word.

That day came. France held on to Seychelles tightly as another man stepped of a boat. 'Boat,' Seychelles thought. 'Not a giant fish.' She watched the man. He didn't look much like France with his darker blonde hair. And his eyebrows….huge. She looked up at France and saw that he looked troubled. 'It must be his fault,' she thought as she scowled at the new man. He opened his mouth and spoke. She didn't understand it. It was some other language. France swallowed. England was here. Hand her over he had said. France had no choice.

France knelt down in the sand and took Seychelles' hand in his. "Ma chérie…You have to go with this man." She blinked. "Why?" "It's very hard to explain," he said as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "But I promise some day we'll see each other again." Seychelles struggled for words in her mind. She didn't know what to say. She was speechless. France kissed her forehead, then her nose, both her cheeks, and finally softly on her lips. He knew what she was thinking. Today he'd teach her that final word.

France stood up. "I'm done talking to her." "Finally," said England. 'There was that new language again,' Seychelles thought. All of a sudden the English man grabbed her arm and started pulling her towards the boat. Seychelles turned back to France. He was smiling but one could clearly see his sadness and pain. "Au revoir," he said. The final word. She repeated it back to him. "Au revoir." Then said it in the language she had been creating. "Orevwar." She stopped. She would tell France goodbye properly this time. For everything he had done for her. She had to say it in French. Just for him.

"Au revoir! Au revoir!" she cried out. Tears streamed down her face, glistening in the island sun. "Au revoir!" France called back to her as his tears threatened to fall. England had already pulled Seychelles onto the boat and had begun to sail off the island. Seychelles ran to the closest edge of the boat. "Don't forget your promise!" she called out. France smiled and his tears broke free. "I won't! I won't ever forget!"

------Years Later------

France received a package in the mail. He opened the package up to reveal a flag. As he took the flag out, a small piece of paper fell out. France bent to pick it up and glanced at the single word on it. Bonzour. His heart stopped as his eyes wandered over the word again. He looked at the flag's blue, yellow, red, white, and green diagonal bands and smiled. "Seychelles." He whispered the name that had wanted to escape for years. He had a promise to keep.