awwww so cute pork!!

Aliana and Anastasia

One Morning Aliana woke up brushed her very short black hair and when out to see her B.F. Flirting with her oh-so-perfect baby sister, Anastasia. She yelled: ANASTASIA! You know your not supoost to kiss anyone or even flirt with anyone untill your 18, which your 14! Yeah, But it's fun!
Okkie Dokkie guess you wanna be grounded for 6 months, cause mom said that if try to kiss any one you'de be in deep trouble !! hmph! next soon,,,...

Hey guys, I'm wondering where you guys got those names from. Mine, Jazzo and Jazza, are pretty obvious. Jazzo is my nickname and Jazza would be the female version. Where did you guys get your character names from?

very good Monk

I used family names Jazzo.

Lakia and Samar

I remember sitting and listening to my Grandmother tell the stories that I tell my grandchildren now. Her name, like mine, was Lakia. She would sit by the well and teach us the ways of the goddess. As the sun fell from the sky, we would gather at her feet and listen to the stories of Hoani who discovered the temple, Kaimi who unearthed the idol, and Iyasu the farmer who taught us all to fish. We would gather at her feet, close our eyes, and remember with her. Then at dusk, when the orange twilight was upon us, we would gather flowers in the garden and lay them at the headstones of our ancestors. She told us of those first months when the ancestors had not yet learned to fish, or even to work the land and depended entirely upon the goddess to provide enough berries. She told us of how Dulu and Etini discovered ancient rusting tools and studied them, brining untold knowledge to our new family.

But our favorite story was of her first encounter with our grandfather and the promise that the goddess made to them.

Lakia came to the island when she was 6 years old. She could never sleep when the moon was a growing crescent and so while the others slept, she would creep out into the night and watch the wild mushrooms grow, finger the petals of strange blossoms, and weep for the life she could not remember. As she grew, her tears ceased, but her heart would still not let her sleep. Kumi and Etini were married and took comfort in each other, Dulu and Kukua sought refuge in each others arms, but Lakia was alone.

The elders decided that Lakia would be wed to the first born son, but life was still hard and she was a woman before Seven was born. As he aged, Lakia realized she could not marry the child she was helping to raise. The growing crescent moon once again brought tears.

When the moons grief was at bay, Lakia worked. She studied the plants that grew on the island, and discovered that they held powerful medicines. It was Lakia who healed Etini when she was ill, who delivered Malik when Kukua went into labor. When there were no illnesses, she made her place beside Dulu and Etini, bent over samples and specimens, trying to uncover the secrets of her new home. Nights she slept fitfully, in half memories and glowing rain, the faces of daylights forgotten pain. When the moon began to grow, she would wander about the island, fingering waxen leaves, caressing budding petals.

One such night, the hard breeze blew in off the ocean. Lakia knelt in the cool earth trying to understand how the lily grew tall and proud and alone. The pale fingers of moonlight shifted about her as she memorized the exact way the petals curled in upon one another, protecting its heart. The wind wrestled in the trees, boughs creaking so forcefully she thought they would break. When she looked up, she thought she saw a face in the trees, staring down at her. Her mind raced - unsure whether she should wake the others or go after him herself.

She stood, half advancing, half turning to run when she heard the voice of the goddess whispering in the trees. Lakia grew bold with the goddess’ blessings, and called out.

“I am Lakia, healer for my tribe. If you are injured, I can help you.” There came no reply and thinking it was the moons trick, Lakia turned to go. She had not gone two steps when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“I am not injured.” My grandmother said she knew before she turned back to him, before she saw how the moon’s light shone brightly against his hair, how his gold eyes wore a halo of green - she knew that the goddess had chosen him for her. She said she saw his name written in his eyes, saw that he was called Samar, and that he also had no past.

They talked of nothing until the sun had risen, and then slowly made their way back to the village. The tribe gathered around Samar, eagerly pushing questions at him. But my grandfather was a man of few words. All he ever offered was that he lived alone on the island, and that he too had the knowledge to grow crops.

He was always a mystery to us. It was not until days before his passing that we understood why the goddess had sent him to us. Nursing their 17th child, Samar and Lakia took Tonga down to the lagoon. Bright pinpoints of light erupted from the waters. With children and grandchildren gathered around, we watched as the infant floated up through the water, above the water, and was enveloped in a glow so bright we should have averted our eyes, but could not.

Their last child, Tonga was the gift promised to them by the goddess. The village celebrated. We watched in amazement as the Golden Child filled our cache with food, brought berries to a near barren bush, called the butterflies and brought joy to our weary hearts.

We sat that night by the well and listened to my grandmother tell us her story with my grandfather by her side. They told us of the glowing rain that had driven them from their homes, fleeing across the ocean to a new home. The growing crescent moon had given them both nightmares of the rain and led them together in the night. That night we saw Samar, our grandfather, as she must have seen him that first night. Long after the sun slept, we listened to the story that fell from their lips.

After we had been tucked to bed, I saw them walk back out into the night, smiling at the growing crescent moon. We found them the next morning sleeping next to the lily that brought them together. Samar never woke up, and my grandmother never left his side.

She spent her last days telling us her stories, sitting by the well. I learned her stories by heart. I close my eyes and I can still see her sitting here, where I am now, with fire in her eyes and in her voice.

"Gather at my feet now and listen to the stories of Hoani who discovered the temple, Kaimi who unearthed the idol, and Iyasu the farmer who taught us all to fish. Gather at my feet, close your eyes, and remember with me. Then at dusk, when the orange twilight was upon us, we will gather flowers in the garden and lay them at the headstones of our ancestors."

Oh my gosh eye....that was FANTASTIC!!!