Island


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1. Nullah

My name is Nullah. I am fourteen years old. I am the third sheepkeeper on the island.
I am sitting on a chair of beachwood that the Saviour gave me. The Saviour says I am special.

 

I spend most of my days on the Hill, in my boots and dress. My boots are made of cowhide and my dress is of sheepskin. The Saviour says, before the End of Days, that Western clothing was gaudy, and arrogant and proud. Eves wore clothes that showed their breasts and legs, helping to destroy society and begin the End of Days. The Saviour says that I am an Eve, and that I will be mother, caregiver one day, and that I must respect my Adam, and must never give men lustful thoughts, and so I must be modest, and dress modestly. My dress is of sheepskin, from a sheep that Ancarah, who will be my Adam, had to kill. It is warm and scratches against my body. But standing upon the hill, watching my sheep, the wind rippling through every possible crevice, hole and fissure, I can still feel the cold.

 

I know, because the Saviour has told me, that one day I will have to stop taking care of my sheep, and be a mother and caregiver. The Saviour has done so much for us, the hundred of us, by saving us from the End of Days and from greedy Western society. But I don't think I want to stop sheepkeeping one day. It's peaceful, being on my own, on the hill. It means that for most of the day I don't have to talk to people. The other sheepkeepers are far and wide across the hills of the island, and I only meet them down at the hut, where all inhabitants sit down to worship.

 

My mother and father love me. My mother cleans the hut every day, and my father is one of the Gatherers, who gather wood for the fire. They collect logs, split it into wood for the worshipping fire, where we build a ring around the Saviour, and light the fire around him at a safe distance, and the rest of the wood is used for our own huts, to keep us warm.

We are the Saviour's flock, and he has brought us to the island, Paradise. We are a select few of the human race who were not meant to be wiped out by the End of the Days. There will be a second coming of the human race, and we must start it. When an Eve has bled, she is fit to be a mother and caregiver, and must be impregnated as soon as possible, and must give birth to at least one child.
I have not bled yet. The other Eves think I am odd for that, but nothing has happened, and the Saviour says that it will come, so I trust him.
I trust in the Saviour. He has saved us from the End of Days.

 

It is evening. I herd my sheep into a pen, which I lock, and begin my descent down the hill, the sun getting darker and darker in the sky it seems with my every step. The wind goes straight through me, and I hear my teeth chatter painfully. 
Eventually, I make it down to the sand.
As usual, in the middle of the sand is a lit ring, and inside is the Saviour. At the front of the ring are my parents, but they're impossible to reach now, due to me being the last to arrive, so I sit down at the back.
Most people don't talk to me. The other Eves think I'm weird, and the Adams don't like me because I'm quiet and I don't talk to them as much. Ancarah likes me because he has to, because I shall be his Eve, his child's mother and caregiver. I shall be caregiver, he shall be hunter. The Saviour says our duty is to interbreed, and that duty must be fulfilled.

 

I sit down in between Ancarah, who smiles at me, clasps my hand in his and gives it a quick kiss, and an Eve called Sadna. Sadna is quiet and shy, like me, with fair hair and a curved, bumped figure. The moment I sit down beside her I can feel her tighten. Her legs are crossed, and I can see her calves are tensed and taut. Sadna is younger than me, but she has already bled, and now there is a soft swell to her belly, where an Eve or Adam is growing.
The worship begins as normal, and the Saviour begins his speech of the origin of Us.
I know this off by heart. On the days that the Saviour has found me, he has often told me of it.
I sigh, and rest my head on Ancarah's stiff, bony shoulder, who is quietly muttering in time to the Saviour.

 

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