niamh
Senior Registered
I've been promising a "certain someone" in this community for YEARS that I'd one day post this, and today I'm finally getting around to it. :thumbsup: Surprise!
I had a life back in the days when Europeans were colonizing the New World. I lived somewhere in South or Central America (pretty sure it was not on one of the islands). The place were I lived was on the coast. There was a harbor and a little village, and an outpost there for soldiers. This was on a narrow strip of flat land along the beach. Behind that there were tall cliffs and a few large houses. Behind them was rainforest. Or jungle. Or maybe just a whole lot of trees. I'm not really sure what you'd call it.
The biggest house up on the cliff was owned by the man who was in charge of the area. He was a soldier but also like a governor of sorts. My mother was his cook and the boss of the kitchen staff. I was her only child and can't recall a father.
My mother had originally worked for this gentleman in the old country (Spain, I suppose, although it might have been Portugal). After he'd been in the colonies for a while, he sent for her to come and work for him there. I remember going there on a ship. Specifically, I remember the ship approaching the harbor and how nervous and excited I felt about going to live in a new place.
I was about 8 or 10, I think, when we arrived. At first, I helped a little bit in the kitchen but didn't have any sort of real job. My mother died after a couple of years, and I was taken on as a full-time servant in the house. I know that when I was about 16 or so, one of my tasks was to scrub the floor of the big stone veranda around the front of the house. I liked that job a lot, because I could look down at the village and see what was going on there, and I could see people coming and going from the house. I could also eavesdrop on conversations taking place inside the house when I cleaned near the windows.
I had a love affair with one the young officers stationed in the village. I knew it would never go anywhere, as he was of a "better" class. But we had fun and I was always glad to see him when he came up to the house to see the governor.
One day, I was out scrubbing the veranda, and he came riding up. He was very worried about something and in a huge hurry to see the governor. I listened under the window where they were talking and heard that our little outpost was about to be attacked.
I guess we were attacked, and I think I must have been killed, because I have no memories after that time. (Or maybe I just don't remember them yet.)
It seemed to be a short life, and a hard one in some ways, but I think that it was a happy life, and I do look back on it fondly.
I had a life back in the days when Europeans were colonizing the New World. I lived somewhere in South or Central America (pretty sure it was not on one of the islands). The place were I lived was on the coast. There was a harbor and a little village, and an outpost there for soldiers. This was on a narrow strip of flat land along the beach. Behind that there were tall cliffs and a few large houses. Behind them was rainforest. Or jungle. Or maybe just a whole lot of trees. I'm not really sure what you'd call it.
The biggest house up on the cliff was owned by the man who was in charge of the area. He was a soldier but also like a governor of sorts. My mother was his cook and the boss of the kitchen staff. I was her only child and can't recall a father.
My mother had originally worked for this gentleman in the old country (Spain, I suppose, although it might have been Portugal). After he'd been in the colonies for a while, he sent for her to come and work for him there. I remember going there on a ship. Specifically, I remember the ship approaching the harbor and how nervous and excited I felt about going to live in a new place.
I was about 8 or 10, I think, when we arrived. At first, I helped a little bit in the kitchen but didn't have any sort of real job. My mother died after a couple of years, and I was taken on as a full-time servant in the house. I know that when I was about 16 or so, one of my tasks was to scrub the floor of the big stone veranda around the front of the house. I liked that job a lot, because I could look down at the village and see what was going on there, and I could see people coming and going from the house. I could also eavesdrop on conversations taking place inside the house when I cleaned near the windows.
I had a love affair with one the young officers stationed in the village. I knew it would never go anywhere, as he was of a "better" class. But we had fun and I was always glad to see him when he came up to the house to see the governor.
One day, I was out scrubbing the veranda, and he came riding up. He was very worried about something and in a huge hurry to see the governor. I listened under the window where they were talking and heard that our little outpost was about to be attacked.
I guess we were attacked, and I think I must have been killed, because I have no memories after that time. (Or maybe I just don't remember them yet.)
It seemed to be a short life, and a hard one in some ways, but I think that it was a happy life, and I do look back on it fondly.