Kubi Kedi biju Ti: Kedi’s Diary 1

Xin’hoploukixé,

Xidastaliyu momokwe vreliuzo-in’i hoplovoxouki in’i-tasuzo E. O pavazi E leslespaze E godlila-erina moiskahoploho. A kicoopavazo-yotomazo E. A tomazi (E yogodilaze-erinaze moiskahoploho).

A yotoktokzi golan E yogodilazi-erinazi moiskahoploho. Ji E totokozi. A kono E sintukwe.

Momokwe yotoma (E totokozi (E sinyukwe)), ji E shishizi. E totokozi \ yopavazi.

E kwishazi shishi-paya biju-bubi. E kwishazi (shishi \ yopaya).

Ruli yopayazo. Gohan E lespazi? A min’zi’mi pfura? E jumanazi yo.

Gopan kuri? E hashizi poppoze-ponyoze (poppoi in’i EA).

E jumanazi (momokwe yohoplogafa-gafa hoplovoxouki).

Biju-Kubi Kedi


Dear Diary,

Mum gave me this book for writing in. She says that maybe if I practice, I will learn Simlish. But she lied and I did not believe her. She doesn’t think that I will learn Simlish.

She doesn’t know why I can’t learn Simlish. But I know. It’s because I’m a peace soldier.

Mum doesn’t know that I know I’m a peace soldier. But I listen. I know, and I don’t talk.

I like listening to the hundred-forty-three. I like listening to their songs. I don’t sing, though.

Lately, seventy-seven has not been singing. What happened? Has he caught pfura? I hope not. I like listening to his songs.

Where is forty-two? I miss our games.

I hope Mum doesn’t read this,

Kedi (forty-seven).

 

Advertisements

Chapter 2: New

Well, wouldja look at that.

11-05-17_4:07:11 PM.png

After all these years of waiting, Kinley’s application for running water went through. No more washing dishes in the tub!

They also have a generator. Lights! Fire sprinklers! An honest-to-goodness generator!

11-05-17_4:15:22 PM.png

Kinley can’t hate the toddlers anymore, not when they’ve brought such lasting bounty. On the other hand, this stuff barely makes up for all the extra work. The family often spends their days cold, hungry, filthy, and tired.

The stall out back where they sell extra things is empty. There’s been no time to scavenge; harvest season is coming soon, and the boys have almost grown out of their clothes.

11-05-17_4:58:23 PM.png

In reality, all the new things have changed nothing. Their lives are hard. Kinley has barely any time between the carrots and the kids.

11-05-17_5:03:03 PM.png

Pumping water for a toddler bath is a common chore- one Kinley ofter barely has the energy to do.

11-05-17_5:05:29 PM.png

Only her goal of reaching the harvest season keeps her moving. She prays to the Watcher and Patron both that the children will be old enough to help.

11-05-17_5:11:17 PM.png

Despite her noble goals, the woodworking table stands unused. There’s just no time.

Will they make it?

Chapter 1: E Lui

Kinley Kahn surveyed her new charges with something approaching disgust. Planting season was coming on; how could anyone possibly think she had time to take care of children!

11-05-17_11:30:49 AM.png

She followed the toddlers into the old brick house and sighed. She had been provided with a small stipend upon being told that she was to be a mother, but it was barely enough to fund the purchase of a small plastic toilet for potty training and a pack of flashcards. She silently prayed to the Watcher that she could get the kids out of diapers quickly, then quickly threw in a prayer to the Patron to the same effect. Thoughts are probably private, but you never know who’s watching.

Looking over by her bed, she realized that the oil lamp on the floor would have to go, or at least be elevated. The lamps elsewhere were on cheap foldout tables, and all the other lights were modern battery-powered lamps, but this one wasn’t. It was a shame- the light by her bed was nice. Maybe if she found some raw lumber, she could test her rusty woodworking skills and make a nightstand.

11-05-17_11:54:11 AM.png

A crash brought the toddlers back to her attention, One of them had found his way into her pots and pans. She sighed. Both of them would need shoes, and one was wearing nothing but a diaper.

After a short battle, she managed to wrestle the naked toddler into a pair of cargo pants and a tiny grey hoodie. She felt a little glad for once that she hadn’t managed to sell her baby clothes.

11-05-17_12:01:32 PM.png

Kinley sighed again. Time to get to work. She set one toddler on the potty and got out the pack of flashcards. “Colors,” she said. “See-oh-el-oh-ar-ess. Colors.”

11-05-17_12:03:40 PM.png

“Momokwe?” the toddler said, eyes hopeful.

“No, colors. Look, kid, if you’re going to be difficult this is not going to work out. Say it with me. Col-ors.”

“Col-ors,” said the toddler.

“That’s right. Not bad, uh… damm, you little brats don’t have names, do you?” Kinley suddenly realized that she was in charge – and she didn’t like it.

“Well, let’s see. You, over there. Yeah, you kid. You can be David, after Dad. And you…” She looked back to the toddler on the floor in front of her.

“E lui!” the toddler chirped.

“Elui. Yeah, Elui. That’s a good name for you.”

Kinley stood up and looked around.

“Well, David and Elui, welcome to the family.”

11-05-17_12:17:52 PM.png

Dove’s Daily Diary 10: Kedi’s Halloween

Dear Kedi:

10-11-17_8:12:34 PM

Happy Halloween! It’s the first one we’ve really celebrated as a family.

10-11-17_8:14:24 PM

You were so excited to carve pumpkins and get costumes. I never really celebrated it with the girls, being busy with work, but now that my job is to take care of you I couldn’t say no to those eyes.

10-11-17_8:15:01 PM

So we got ourselves a carving table, and you started to work right away!

10-11-17_8:15:45 PM

You put so much work into that pumpkin…

10-11-17_8:16:02 PM

…and this is what we got!

10-11-17_8:29:08 PM

Not the most perfect pumpkin, but so cute! Maki, Jenny, Sarah, and I also made pumpkins!

This one was Jenny-Kari’s:

10-11-17_10:35:51 PM.png

This one was Sarah-Kiya’s:

10-11-17_10:44:30 PM.png

This one was Maki’s (I love her sense of humor):

10-11-17_10:38:54 PM.png

Look! I made a kedi-pumpkin:

10-11-17_10:31:44 PM.png

I’ve been telling you all about our homeworld’s Spook Night, too. After that comes Spirit Day, when we honor the dead. Maki tells me that some cultures here have a Day of the Dead too, and that it comes right after Halloween! Wow!

Kediké, you look so happy. I hope you can always stay that happy.

-Tikkidové

Sidesteps

The next night, Ingram returned, and she brought chess.

10-11-17_5:15:01 PM

Sylvia pondered what to do. How could she crack the mysterious woman’s facade?

10-11-17_5:15:32 PM

“So, you know Aylin well?”

10-11-17_5:15:46 PM

“You could say that.”

10-11-17_5:16:59 PM

“How long have you known her?”

10-11-17_5:18:47 PM.png

“A long time. A very long time.”

10-11-17_5:20:38 PM.png

Sylvia tried a different approach. “Are you two friends?”

10-11-17_5:30:13 PM

“I suppose it depends on your definition of ‘friend.’ Do you consider yourself to be ‘friends’ with Aylin?”

Sylvia wasn’t sure how to parry this attack. Of course, it was her dream to be friends with Aylin, no matter which definition one settled on, but she felt it was presumptuous to declare friendship with the woman who was so much more intelligent, skilled, talented, powerful, knowledgeable, and admirable than she was. In other words, Aylin was peerlessly cool.

“I aspire to be,” replied Sylvia.

Sylvia looked at the board. Her rook was hemmed in, her queen-side bishop was penned, and Ingram was about to capture another pawn.

“Check,” Ingram said.

10-11-17_5:30:41 PM

“Aylin and I are black and white,” Ingram continued, “just like the pieces on this chessboard.”

“Does that mean you are always fighting?”

“Quite on the contrary. Perhaps we are more like Go than chess. Have you played Go?”

“I have played Go,” Sylvia said. “My papa taught me.” She caught a quick memory of attic afternoons, scrunched over the go board, and hustled the memory on its way. Now was not the time to remember home.

In Go, white and black moved together, organically, interconnected, around the board, like pushing hands.

“You’re talking about balance,” she said, and, at once, Ingram no longer seemed so frightening. Formidable, yes, but not quite as scary.

“Well done,” said Ingram.

Then she was gone.

Dove’s Daily Diary 9

Dear Kedi,

I started your telepathic testing today. The first thing I realized is that I know who you are, pabizoo.

You’re sinyukwe. A peace soldier. I knew most of them were clones, but I didn’t know I had one in my house.

You’re already so strong. I’ll have to teach you telethics soon, before you start probing minds without permission. Once you grow up, you could force anyone to do anything you wanted, just like the other sinyukwegi.

Including me.

10-03-17_10:17:00 AM.png

Kediké, I’ve never been so afraid. Will I be able to teach you to be a good person, before you start abusing this power of yours? Will this good upbringing be enough to keep you off of the path of your brethren?

I will protect you forever. I swore that. But there are a lot of people who think that you’re the one we need protecting from.

Kedi. You’re a good girl.

10-03-17_9:53:58 AM.png

Please prove it to me.

-Tikkidové

Dove’s Daily Diary 8

Kediké,

You might have noticed me crying lately. I know you have, because you came up and hugged me and said “Yozimi.”

Oh, Kediké. How can I tell you that I’m crying because someone dear to me died?

I only just got the news from the homeworld. My cousin, my goto, Tharijuné, died. She was a bizaabgotojo just like yours, and she died in a spaceship crash.

Have I ever told you how I got my name, Kediké? Tharijuné and I picked our names together. Tharijuné and Tikkidové. Blue Flower and White Bird. To this world, Dove and June.

Maki wrote a tune that she sings to you, and I made up some words. It goes like this:

E mo’mo O!
EA mo’mo O!
Jotu mo’mo O!
Yada Kedi
Miki Kedi
Poppoki Kediké!

You love to sing this song! You sing it to your nightlight all the time. You say, “Payato diyoozi^bicoo-sicoo^kixazi kiyaki! Payato diyoozi^bicoo-shishozi vivingigotogo!”

Are you singing this song for your gotogo, Kediké? Are you singing to them about how much we love you?

I will always take care of you, Kedi. I never saw myself as a bizaabgotojo, but here I am. Here we all are. In Tharijuné’s memory, I will care for you.

-Tikkidové

Where sims and sanity don't quite meet