Isolated (Stardew Valley)

Prologue

STARDEW VALLEY was not like I expected.

But, to be fair, I had low expectations. Compared to the city–I didn't expect this.

As soon as I had stepped off the bus, I was met with a fresh breeze that fluttered around me, wind caressing my cheek as if it were a warm greeting. This was a surprise. A stark contrast between the polluted airs of Zuzu City.

The grass–such natural and luscious grass–was a bright green and I had to squint my eyes to check if they were a figment of my imagination, an illusion to deceive my narrowed eyes. But they were real. Everything was real.

Even the people were nice, much to my surprise. I was expecting cold brutes absorbed with the idea of luxury, ones that I familiarized myself with everyday at work, one that I myself had become. I had braced myself to put on my usual mask of hatred to face them.

This was all at Joja Corporations, a vile company that feasted on capitalism.

After working there for so long, I knew I had to leave before I had fully fallen into their snares. Knew that it wasn't the life I was meant to live. I always had this feeling within me that I was meant for something greater. Bigger.

And so I decided to move to Pelican Town to claim a piece of land that I had inherited. My grandfather had passed of old age years ago, when I was still a little girl. I could barely remember him, only cloudy memories.

A headache passed over me as I thought more about it. I couldn't remember Grandpa at all. Had it been so long? Had I been so indulged in my work that I forgot about my loved ones?

"If you ever need help with the farm, I can provide you with resources–"

I was brought back from my thought as the woman in step in front of me started going on about the town. Robin, she said her name was when she greeted me at the bus stop. She was the town's carpenter and spent every empty moment to promote her shop. Her ginger hair—barely streaked with white from age—and enthusiastic face made me dislike her immediately.

I didn't know why I had this sudden hatred for such a kind person. Perhaps it was because I loathed the idea of someone being so nice, knowing that I could never be like them.

"I also have a son, Sebastian. He's a bit shy and likes to keep to himself, but I'm sure you can warm up to him eventually!" she added as she looked back at me.

"I'll be sure to get to know him," I replied with an attempt to mimic her enthusiasm, but utterly failed. My voice only come out bored and monotone. Robin didn't seem to sense this and continued walking.

If her son was anything like his mother, I made a mental note not to interact with him as much.

Together, we walked along the road that led to what I assumed was the farm. I saw a bit of the town centre and marvelled at all the sights.

Finally, the road ended and a small ranch came into view. My heart was beating in anticipation as we neared closer, like a crescendo gradually increasing until its climax. We stopped and my mouth hung open.

"Here it is, Suncrest Farm!"

I had pictured perfectly trimmed grass loitered across the farm where you could walk bare feet on, pictured tall trees side by side—home to little animals, pictured glistening water where you could make out your reflection and smile.

But this—I did not expect this.

It was as if a beast had crawled through the farm and tore apart every single form of life, leaving nothing in its path. Dead grass and wild flowers filled the paths, making the ground barely visible. The trees were old and clustered around the grass, their trunks decaying over time.

I looked toward Robin who had stood next to an older man. Mayor Lewis—she mentioned through her rambling—who was once Grandpa's friend. Wrinkles creased his face, but his fresh smile kept his youth.

They shared a look of almost pity towards me, glancing one more time at the sight before them.

I almost cringed thinking about the amount of work that it would take to restore this disaster. The gold. The resources. The energy. This farm was a place for me to rewind, to have a calm and peaceful life. Turns out it would take more than just a few renovations.

"June?" called out Lewis, seeing my dazed state.

June. That was my name. A name that reminded you of the summer breeze, of the birds and seagulls, of the drifting oceans.

It was Grandpa who insisted this name, for whatever reason, I didn't know. He loved it and always claimed it suited me. Back then, it probably had, but now? Not so much.

I hated the name, only because of the memories of my childhood that came along with it.

And so for Mayor Lewis to call me that, I inwardly shuddered as I faced them.

"Look, I know it's bad—" he started, peering at the wreck.

Instead of cowering or slumping in defeat, I only lifted my chin and stared back Robin and Lewis with a look of determination. I didn't want them to pity me, to pity the girl that lost her grandfather, the girl who wanted a better life.

In this isolated place filled of overgrown forests and berry scented smells, no one knew me here.

To them, I was a foreigner. Hailed from the city in search of a place to call home.

Here—I could be whoever I wanted to be. I didn't have to lie in order to fit in to a society. I didn't have to go against what my heart truly wanted.

Here, I would be me for who I truly was. June. The girl who did not just only lose a grandfather she could barely remember, but the girl who made the most out of it, and continued his legacy.

Robin and Lewis left after that, talking absentmindedly about Yoba knows what. Their voices faded off into the distance and I approached the tiny ranch, brown and faded out over the years.

It was a small and cozy space, but satisfied the living contents for one person. There was a dust-covered bud tucked into the corner, a few paintings covered the almost peeling off wallpaper, and an old television sat at the back of the room.

This place, it was Grandpa's, and I oddly felt the feeling of intruding in his own personal space. No one had occupied this area in years, save for Mr. Lewis coming every now and then to clean it, yet it still had its comfortable feeling.

I threw my only backpack on the ground and slumped onto the bed, sinking into the warm depths of the mattress. Closing my eyes, I let out a sigh. Out of relief or despair, I didn't know.

Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow I'll talk to people around town.

I dreaded the thought of meeting new people, not knowing what impression I would have on them. The city had shaped me to become a cold and hateful person, misting that goodness within me. But I knew that deep down, that speckle of life was still there, beckoning to come out.

How did you do this, Grandpa? I wondered, trying to imagine his smiling face as he greeted everyone. I couldn't remember much from my short time here as a little girl, but I knew that he was well-loved.

He'd have been so disappointed to see what person I had become. I was no longer that little girl he always loved, no longer full of joy and happiness. After he died, the city changed me. I wondered if he looked down from wherever he was and resented this new person.

Oddly, a relaxed sensation dawned upon me thinking about him, imagining his warm arms wrap around me as if I was that little girl again, reassuring me that everything would be okay. My head sank deeper into the cushions. My eyes fluttered to sleep.

And as I fell into that peaceful slumber, I had a feeling that in this town, I would not be alone.