Short Stories From The World Of ARTK

The Dissapearance of Johanna Harsent, Part Three

The year is 3137 A.G. Johanna Harsent never left that island.

Johanna allowed herself one last look at the breeches she'd come her in. It'd been a long while since she'd fit into them- the two children had made sure of it, so she'd been using them to clean things for a few years. Still, they were the last reminder of her former life.

  Not one sailor had dared to dock at the island in the time she'd been on it. Any ship she saw in the distance would never see them, too afraid of the island to even look at it long enough. They believed it to be full of monstrous animals and poisonous plants because of the last guy that'd seen it and lived to tell the tale so long ago, but they were only partially right. It were also a beautiful place, full of strange and familiar flavors. Fruits and spices(and other plants) that also grew in Cralon, but ones no one had a name for too.

Minimal clothing was worn because of how hot it were all the time, and how accustomed the island's people were to it- but Johanna had discovered a few things in her time living here. Breasts were not sexualized in the slightest. They were a tool to feed one's children, and nothing more.

  There was a yellow bush whose leaves released a clear liquid when crushed- that kept her skin from burning in the sun. She often rubbed that liquid on her children's skin too, as whatever kept their father's from burning hadn't been passed on.

The way they built homes and huts was not too different from the villages back home, or on the continent Ebon as she called it now. They were often wooden, with animal skin and wood- though a few years ago Johanna had finally figured out how to make mud bricks and multiple families began building with those.

The weapons weren't so different either, though they did not have swords and their spears usually had two tips instead of one. Everything was more laborious than back home, as they had to make something if they wanted it- but Johanna appreciated constantly being busy. There was no such thing as a "men or women's task". The men and women who were friends often took turns caring for each other's children- but that was just as much labor as anything else. She'd only completely rested twice(for about four months each, until she felt normal again)- but it were also normalized for women with painful monthly bloods to lay down until they went away.

  It's taken many, many years with no guidebook to help- but she and Sansone had eventually taught each other their languages and cultures. Her children and closest friend Filomena had learned as well, but it were Sansone who taught her the most. His father Ricco were the leader of the island and gave out certain tasks, though none of that were final. When there were fights between villagers, it were all taken to Ricco- and he'd sort it out. He were the best sort of grandfather; kind most of the time but stern when he needed to be. Sansone was the same with their children, though she'd only heard him yell twice ever:

  Once at the midwife when she were bleeding too much in her second birth, and once at Jonathan after he climbed onto and fell off of their roof.

  Sansone stood in the doorway then, watching her. Marriage were not a concept on the island, not in the way Johanna had described it at least. A couple could live together, be in love and have multiple children and not one of them would ever be called a "bastard". That was something he'd never understand. Johanna's people were cruel, each and every one of them- and for what?

  There was no reason for a child- or adult, to want to die over being born 'wrongly'.

  She looked back at him for a moment, sensing his presence- and then back to the breeches in her hand.

  Johanna walked out the door, past him- and threw them into the fire that burned outside.