Prologue: The Beginning

~* Backstory *~ 

Jessi Deliah's entire situation had begun with the supposed looting of the small farming village by a greedy pirate, whose real name was long lost to lore, one thousand years prior. This was the reason she could not leave her house. This was the reason men of all colors and sorts found their way to her doorstep, and why the beds upstairs were constantly in use, why the pitter patter of tiny feet was ever present, it all came down to that pirate and her ancestor: the stupid lore, the even stupider traditions that accompanied it. But if she was to put the blame on someone entirely, it would have to fall upon that nosy goddess, for continuing her bloodline to begin with.

She knew, of course, that the legend was most likely a fabrication of the times to offer explanation for those affected with the fertility curse. Even today, doctors were unable to explain how her children were able to develop with merely three days in the womb, no less why she was constantly prone to healthy twins and triplets. But she couldn't shake the feeling that there were parts of the tale that really were true, that maybe the town really was ransacked by an evil pirate who captured all of the women living in the town. Maybe Jessi’s ancestor really was an avid worshiper of the town’s patron mother goddess, who visited her aboard the ship in all of her celestial glory and bestowed upon her the gift of fertility. And after some “nightly visits” with the previously mentioned pirate, said ancestor could have successfully birthed ten female children, all of whom she trained to rise against the captain on their sixteenth birthdays and turned the ship back home. Truth be told, she just wanted to believe that at some point, the Deliah women were schemers, adventurers: not just a hook for tourists.

In some ways, the idea of having a child with every man in the village was nice. Everyone in the community was connected in some way, like an extended family. Even better for them was the fact that Jessi took care of the children in her own home until they were eighteen, and then they could live out their lives, with their father or not. And she truly did love her children, every one of them. But the thought of living out her days as a slave to the town’s income, her home attracting curious tourists, rubbed Jessi the wrong way. She supposed she couldn't blame her visitors. The idea that someone, somewhere in this great vast word could produce healthy children in merely three days, all while never leaving their property (another part of the tradition: it is said that the original cursed woman upon returning home was in such despair to discover that her husband had died in her leave that she never left her home again), paired with the fact that the entire village was in on the entire scheme was something to be gawked at. And anyway, was there really anything holding her back from leaving? She supposed not, but the feeling of guilt at abandoning her bloodline held her back. After all, this is what she had been raised to do, right? And it made everyone in the town so happy, and the economy rich. Someone had to do it.

But now was not the time to be dwelling on regrets. Now was the time to make more children. First, she showered and changed out of her dirty clothing. If who Jessi was calling was to come upon his summoning, she was sure he'd appreciate the effort. Grabbing her glasses and stepping outside for a better signal, she pulled out her phone, containing the numbers of every man she had not procreated with yet. She closed her eyes and scrolled back and forth at random, finally stopping to rest her finger on a single name.

"Strawberry Lemonade, huh?" She called the number, waiting for the ringing to stop.

"Hello?" an apathetic voice answered.

"Hey, is this Strawberry Lemonade? It’s time." Obviously, she couldn't tell over the phone, but she could have sworn she felt him smile. This was the call he had been waiting for. This was the call that all young men waited for.