*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/950581-Reamas-My-Mama
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: E · Sample · Action/Adventure · #950581
This is a sample of a novel I am working on, which will be titled Reama's My Mama.
There were thirteen of us on the island for nine years. I was only seven when it began, so I didn’t remember as much as some of the others. Jessica, Steven, and William could recall precise details about the day. And Reama, of course, knew it all. She knew so much that, from the beginning, she was set apart from us. There was no one quite like Reama. Weall loved her more than instinct could proclaim – even Steven, as hard as it might have been to make him admit it. That’s why, when the time came, I followed her off of the island – I loved her deeper than trust can go. The others, I suppose, did not. But I guess I need to start where it began.

The Beginning was never mentioned. It was a forbidden subject, especially in front of the younger ones – those who couldn’t remember it. But it was still always between us, in our eyes and on our minds.
This is what we knew: on the day of The Beginning, we were brought to the island by The Abandoners and left there. They had already prepared everything for us. There were five cabins – one for each family and the last for Reama. Gardens and storehouses of food stood behind the cabins, and to the left of them were the bathrooms. To the right was the kitchen. The Abandoners left us on the island, that we knew; the reason we didn’t. I couldn’t remember their faces or what they said, but I knew that they were my parents. Occasionally, memories of a life in a house in a neighborhood in a city came to me – but never clearly enough.
Reama knew something more. Something much more important. So important that not even Steven could fathom asking her what it was. So important, she was given her own cabin – set apart from the rest of us on the first day.
Besides Reama, there were four families. We used the name of the eldest boy as their last, to keep it simple. Therefore, I was Danielle Williams. My younger sister was Gwynevere Williams, and my brother was simply William.
My best friend was Mary Morgan Asa, sister of Anna Asa and Asa. There was also Rachel James, Jessica James, and James, my cousins, and Riley and Cameron Stevens, fraternal twins and younger brothers of Steven. They were cousins to the Asas.
It was extremely rare that last names were used on the island, though. Nine years spent with only thirteen people and you sort of get to know each other better than to need that.

Danielle and Mary Morgan walked faster, hoping to get away from Gavy. But her footsteps only quickened behind them, her bare feet slapping the wet bank of the Island River rhythmically.
Danielle turned around and glared at her younger sister. “Gavy, stop following us.”
“Tell me the story of my name,” said the little girl/
Danielle rolled her eyes. “I’ve told it to you a thousand times.”
“So tell it again.”
Danielle sighed, looked apologetically at Mary Morgan, and then sat down on the wet grass. She dangled her toes into the river.
“You were a tiny, tiny baby,” she began, “with a mouthful of a name. It was just too big for a little baby like you. When we called you Gwynevere, it just didn’t sound right. We decided to call you Gwyn instead.
Well, we got so used to it we had almost forgotten your real name. By the time you were a year old and could talk, you had grown a lot bigger. You were chubby, with big cheeks and fat legs.
Seems like it was around then we finally remembered your real name – you had grown out of Gwyn, I guess, or we just wanted a change. So we started calling you Gwynevere. It took you awhile to realize that was you.
When you finally did, you struggled to get your little mouth around that big word. ‘Gawh-vy,’ you would say, pointing to yourself. And that was as close as you could get. So we decided then you still weren’t big enough to be called Gwynevere, but when we tried to call you Gwyn, you wouldn’t answer. ‘Gawh-vy.’ You’d say, sticking a fat thumb at your chest. That’s what you were set on, so that’s what we called you.”
Gavy smiled and that satisfied way she had of doing it. “Gawh-vy,” she said in a baby voice, prodding her chest.
“Don’t do that. You’re not one anymore, you’re eight. Now go away and leave us alone.”
Gavy sulked away. Danielle and Mary Morgan walked on, side by side, until the slow-moving water opened up into the River Pool, where it finally gave up and died. They stripped and dived into the cool water, drawing in long sips to quench their thirst and splashing each other to wash away the dirt.
After a long time, they climbed out into the sun to dry before putting their clothes back on. The two friends lay on their backs, looking up into the clouds.
“Danielle…” Mary Morgan said after a few minutes.
“Yeah?”
“How did we get here?”
Danielle’s stomach flipped, and her heart seemed to skip a beat. Could Mary Morgan possibly remember The Beginning? And if so, would she just have to deny it? Under Reama’s rules, The Beginning couldn’t be talked about to Mary Morgan or anyone younger than her. After all, she had only been 6 at the time. Danielle herself had been 7, and she could hardly remember anything about it herself…
“I mean, Gavy’s eight and Reama’s 19… so obviously, we got here at different times. And it’s all in order – Jessica’s a year younger than Reama, Steven’s a year younger than her, then William, then you, then me… did a baby just pop up every year? Where? And if so, then how could Reama have survived with nobody there to take care of her? Was there somebody older than her? Somebody who died? Do you think Reama might die?”
Oh, Danielle thought. Just that. The greatest mystery of all, besides The Beginning. Danielle didn’t know the answer to either. Nobody did, except for Reama, and you just couldn’t ask her something like that.
“I don’t know, Mary Morgan. You know I don’t. Why don’t you ask Reama?” She joked.
“Yeah, right. You know I couldn’t. Why don’t you?”
“Why not? There’s no rule against it.” Danielle laughed.
“So then, do it.”
“You know I couldn’t, either. Not even Jessica or Steven would have the guts to ask her that.”
The girls sat in silence for a few more minutes, and then they put on their clothes and headed back to the cabins.

When Danielle and Mary Morgan reached the Living Quarters again, they headed, as always, toward the Great Room. Danielle opened the door, and they stepped slowly into the empty building. The four walls spanned out, long and clean.
“I just wish I knew why it was here!” Said Mary Morgan in frustration. Danielle felt sorry for her curious, brown haired friend, who knew even less than her. Danielle knew that in The Beginning, the Great Room had been left empty for them by The Abandoners. They wanted them to do something with it – nobody knew what. Except for Reama, who knew everything. The answer to everything always fell back on Reama…
© Copyright 2005 stansburreh (stansburreh at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/950581-Reamas-My-Mama