#dewtask011

( there is a letter written and signed by malia jaiden next to a big board of photographs. ) 

I’m not a creative person, art was never something I was good at. I think I barely scraped by in art class but this is my effort at trying to explain the valley. What makes it beautiful, what makes it sad, what makes it good, what makes it home.

My mom wasn’t raised in the valley like I was, her mother had come here on vacations, claiming that they had the best produce here because it was somehow grown with love, and that the people treated you like you were family. When my parents met they were teenagers, reckless, in love, and found their way to the valley on a whim having remembered her mother had brought her here to the many festivals when she was a child.

My mom and father had eventually ended up in Zuzu City, my mother going to school to become a teacher, she found herself often coming to the valley on weekends, she made friends with a lot of locals, she looked at the houses that were vacant, often imagining a life here. She told my father her dreams, and by the time that my mom finished her first semester of college they found out that they were pregnant with me. It took them about eight months to secure a house in the valley, when I asked how they managed to do it, my mother said it was a different time back then, that the locals of the valley were good people, they gave my father a steady job, while my mom struggled to finish college. 

They were young, but they made it work, not on their own, but because the people in the valley cared. 

The house that I grew up in wasn’t just something that my mom stumbled upon because of luck, it was because people cared, it was built on love and trust that eventually, maybe someday, my mom would be able to repay all of that back but also knowing that she didn’t have to. 

When I say that I love the valley it’s because I love my mom. 

To me, she was the heart and soul of the valley. She made me love it for what it was, taking me on walks with her to cindersap forest, signing me up for anything that the community center had to offer. I wasn’t raised just by my mother, I was raised by a group of people because they loved my mother, and I guess loved me because I was just an extension of her. 

She was a kind soul that somehow blended in perfectly into the valley, making herself useful when needed. Eventually, when she finished college, she became the teacher here, I don’t remember but there would be photos that she would show me of me on her lap as she taught class in the library. Slowly those photos would morph into me being in her class as a student.

No longer was my mother a stranger to the valley she started to grow old with it, too. 

When my mother lost her memory, she would look over at me like I was a stranger, because to her I was, and tell me stories of my childhood here. She used to say that the valley was probably the best part of her life because she got to raise her daughter here. She would show me photos of myself, pointing out all the friends that had left the valley to become someone, neighbours who still dropped by to visit my mom, farmers that gave us produce. She might have lost her memories but the valley remained.

Sometimes I wonder what part of my mother’s story ends and where mine begins. 

I think I’m still figuring that out. I think I’m still living in my mother’s shadow too afraid of stepping out of it, maybe because people won’t like what they see, because I’m not her. I’m not kind like she was, I’m not gentle, or outwardly caring. 

But I still see things, things that she would have noticed, but through my own lens now because this isn’t her story anymore, it’s mine. 

For Malia’s “art piece” there is a big board full of photos dated back from 1993 of the valley. 

The left of the board is the older photos, of her mother talking to locals taken by her father, photos taken by her mother of her daily walks through cindersap forest and through pelican town. As you start to get to the middle of the collage you start to see familiar faces, photos of Malia, Jillian, Koa, Sasha as children, playing in each other’s yards, in some photos there’s party hats, questionable fashion, all the oddities of growing up in the valley; parents smiling, photos of children holding hands, petting farm animals that have long since passed, celebrating birthdays, laughing at festivals, mourning at funerals, new flowers blooming in places that they shouldn’t but allowing them to anyway. 

There’s photos of children in the valley playing outside of the library, it’s spring in some photos, purple and pink flowers spread across the field shifting into summer where you see colourful hats, shorts and t-shirts, festivals of the summertime, photos of families camping, there’s fishing, holding up a tiny trout so high because at that age everything is so big and exciting, happy parents with sun hats and too much sunscreen. The photos shift to fall, there’s soft orange leaves, photos of puddles around the town, horses drinking from them while children jump in them. 

The photos are not glamorous or artistic, they were taken in the moment by Malia to remember that there’s joy in the small things. 

Once you start shifting towards the middle near the right side of the board more familiar faces start to show up. The class of 2013 at a house party, the photos are blurry but the memories still stay the same, there’s a photo of the house where the photos were taken in, it’s vacant now, but someone still keeps the garden alive, preserving the life that was left in their wake. The photos age as class of 2013 does—watching Sasha perform at a talent show, Jillian skating on the ice, Malia running on a trail, Koa on his first day as an apprentice. 

When the class of 2013 graduates, the photos of them become less and less, people move away. There’s a blank space that’s meant to be purposeful in the board, and then, the photos start again. 

Spring time, there’s a woman, with her back to the photographer, she’s standing in a garden surrounded by flowers that she planted years ago, they’ve come and gone every year, in the photo you can see the woman reach out to touch a petal. To the untrained eye you wouldn’t know that it was Malia’s mother. It’s the only photo she has of her during this time in Malia’s life on the board. 

There’s photos of the saloon, they’re never concise, blurry because they weren’t meant to be taken, accidental photos showing people talking to each other in the valley, most who have known each other their whole lives. 

There’s photos of outside the saloon, it’s dark, and on the ground is ash and stubbed cigarettes from Saloon patrons and Malia. 

Moon photos are not easy to take, Malia is not a photographer but on a particular full moon she takes a photo of the sky, because despite the grief of not being able to leave the valley, there was something special about full moons here. They seemed bigger, brighter with the stars surrounding it. 

There’s new ranchers in town, Malia takes a photo of what their farm looks like before they’ve made something of it. 

There’s photos of camping during the summer, young adults gathered by a fire, laughter fills the air, and smoke lingers on their clothes for days to come, reminding you of a moment you’ve already lost. There’s photos of people helping other people putting on bug spray, helping setting up tents, coolers being stored in a bear safe compartment, there’s smiling in photos of future partners and companions, friendships formed over a fire and marshmallows, the moon reflects on the lake, though the photo would never do the memory justice. 

A concert rolls into town bringing a large entourage, Malia takes photos of all the equipment brought and set up, the night of the concert she tries to take a photograph of everyone who attended, there’s too many people to try and take a picture of, but one thing remains and it’s people’s enjoyment and love for music, it helps people connect in the same way that photos do. When the show is over, there’s a group of locals who help clean up the mess, smiling at each other and singing along to a song from a girl who once lived in the valley and made something of themselves. 

Malia takes a photo of the poster, she tacks on the photo with class of 2013.  

Photos of the beach are taken after the concert has rolled in and left, leaving only the locals to clean up the mess that was made. There’s a before photo of the trash laid across the beach, children helping their parents pick up trash with big beach hats, there’s photos of games being made of it, who can pick up the most cans, older adults joining in on the fun too. The point of the photos isn’t to show the mess that people can make, but of what people can accomplish if they work together.

When the beach gets cleaned, it’s sunset, the sky a pink and orange on a warm summer night. 

Community festivities come and go, Malia takes photos of all of them. 

But, near the end of the board, you start to see more familiar faces. 

There’s a photo of a clinic, inside is Ben looking down at paperwork that needs to be filled out after each patient, Malia has come over to help but it’s a slow day. When he looks up he’s smiling, Malia has caught him off guard and tried to say a funny joke that wasn’t all that funny but Ben laughs at it anyway. Malia would never tell him how much the clinic had been a safe place for her because he was there when her mother was sick. She hopes that he can see that now through the photos of the clinic she’s taken over time. 

There’s a photo outside of Henry’s house, different sets of photos, some of him gardening, some of them of him holding his chickens, there’s one of him and daisy holding hands, and one of him sitting on his couch with Malia right next to him. His home has always been a safe space because he is a safe space. She knows that Henry has been having a tough time lately and hopes that the photos remind him that there can be sunshine again if you let it. 

There’s photos of Jillian throughout their childhood, reminding her that before she was a skater she was just a kid that stayed up way too late at sleepovers and ate way too much junk food when they shouldn’t have. Malia puts photos of her winning her first trophy, nailing her first double axel, too many photos of them in hotel rooms jumping on the beds, a photo of her at her tenth birthday party, and one sneaky photo of Jillian outside of the General Store when they reopened. Her face is relaxed. Malia hopes that the photos can remind her that it’s never too late to start again. 

There’s photos of Koa as his first day as an apprentice, Malia has taken plenty of photos of Koa when he’s in the middle of making something beautiful out of nothing, and photos of pure joy when he’s finished with a project. Malia puts photos of all of his birthdays that she’s attended, her arms around him in a hug after a track meet and seeing him amongst the crowd of people. Koa had always been someone that was always there, whenever you needed him, and over the past couple of years Malia hadn’t been very good at keeping track of him. But there’s a photo that she took when they went sledding in the winter time, behind the camera she was laughing, which is why the photo is so shaky, but she knows that he’ll appreciate it anyway. 

There’s photos of Sasha, at numerous talent shows, singing at birthday parties, at sleepovers with Jillian. There’s photos of them at house parties, karaoke night, photos of them as children climbing trees with arms around each other. There’s a photo of Malia in Zuzu city with a copy of Sasha’s first album. They weren’t talking then, but she wanted to buy it anyway. Malia knows that they hadn’t been friends in a very long time but hopes the photos show that despite everything, she does still care for Sasha. 

There’s photos of Finley taken after Malia and Finley jumped off the pier. A start of a new friendship over wine and laughter. Malia finds it funny that after years of being rivals they were friends now. Drunken late night photos of blurry faces, up close photos that weren’t meant to be taken. Photos of both of them on runs, photos of when they temporarily worked together. Photos taken at the saloon arguing over what song to play next. There’s a photo of Finley at the saloon with their friends, Malia had taken it thinking that maybe they would want to see it someday, surrounded by people who loved them, that maybe after all this time, Finley finally found what they were looking for here in the valley. 

There’s a photo that Malia’s mom took of Elaine and Malia outside, Elaine is showing Malia what her and her grandfather plan on doing with their house, Malia is young and wanted to learn and understand, probably asking way too many questions, ever so noisy and talkative. There’s a photo of Malia smiling up at Elaine, she doesn’t remember what was said but she remembers how it feels. There’s another photo of Elaine and her grandfather taken from a window of both of them measuring wood together, her grandfather is telling Elaine the measurements and Elaine has a very determined look on her face. Malia has one last photo of Elaine, it was taken after Elaine dropped off food for Malia, she’s standing in her mother’s garden and the sun hit her just right. Malia likes to think that it wasn’t just a coincidence, light will always outshine the darkness. 

There’s photos of Kiran at his farm, Malia snapping as many awkward photos of Kiran that she can feeding the animals. Many of the photos are blurry due to Kiran trying to grab the phone from Malia’s hand. It’s an unlikely friendship founded on grief and loss, an understanding that though the people that we love are gone, it doesn’t mean that there can’t be happy moments in between. 

There’s photos of Sloane’s van, the very first time that Malia saw it. It was before Malia got to know fae, but after a while, a friendship formed, Malia often coming to see what Sloane had in store, Malia often taking pictures of fae in faer element. Sloane had always looked ethereal to Malia, untouchable in many ways, the photos never really did fae justice, but Malia hopes Sloane sees how mysterious yet magical faer is. 

There’s a photo of Archie in Malia’s house, a single photo of her in her mother’s room that she hasn’t opened since she died. There’s equipment set up on a chair that Malia had brought in from the dining room, Malia hadn’t wanted the room to be touched too much, just examined, to be heard if there was anything in there. If her mom was in there, waiting for her or anyone to listen to her. Malia didn’t know why she took the photo, maybe in case if something were to happen then she’d have evidence of it. But in the end there was nothing, Archie had told her that her mother wasn’t here, and Malia had nodded her head that day. After that, she had taken a photo of Archie and Henry in the kitchen, talking about something that Malia couldn’t remember now, but there was a sense of belonging in the kitchen, that maybe Archie had found her space here in the valley that was beyond something more than ghosts. 

There’s photos of Lizzie and Art’s farm. She tacks the photo that she took of it before it had become something. There’s another photo of their wooden sign that displays when the farm was established, photos of all the crops that had flourished, the chickens that run around the farm, and the stacks of wood left over from winter. There’s touches of them everywhere signifying that they are part of the community of farmers in the valley, that this was home. 

There’s photos taken after the mines, when she had been sitting down on a rock, watching people come together to try and help anyone that was hurt and hungry. She remembers their faces of each one that had been there on the front lines: Adria with food, Anya with Gabe lending a helping hand where they could. To them, it might not have seemed like a lot, but to Malia it was everything. 

There’s photos of Sofia in the winter, outside of the library looking up at the snow that was falling. Malia had often found herself walking towards the library in the winter, it had always been her mother’s favourite time of year. She remembers all the times that her mother let the kids go out and play in the snow, thinking of the pure joy on other kids faces. There’s this certain look that Sofia gets, watching the children, that reminds Malia of her mother. The admiration of watching a new generation of children growing up in the valley, knowing that she was in the heart of all of it at the library. 

There’s photos of Matty, taken by Malia in the middle of pelican town, she had been sitting on a bench smoking when she had seen Matty come rolling in on his skateboard, they hadn’t seen each other since the mines and Malia had asked if he had been doing okay. She took photos of him on his skateboard asking him to do tricks for her, always wanting to get into it but never being able to due to her being on the track team. There’s a photo that she takes when he’s explaining the trick to her, she doesn’t understand it but she loves how passionate he gets about it, how passionate Matty gets about anything that he loves, it doesn’t go unnoticed. 

The last few photos are taken on valentines day at the saloon. Malia had never really celebrated valentine’s day before, deciding that it was mostly a holiday for brands to profit off of, but over the last few years she had begun to celebrate it in her own way, thinking of all those people that she had loved in her past and in the present. All the people that have come and gone in her life, all that people that she knew, and all the people that she hadn’t even met yet. The last couple of photos are snapshots of the night. Jemma and Arden talking animatedly about something while drinking a cocktail that Jemma made, there’s Iris and Sasha to the side looking at a song to sing on stage, Zola curiously looking over at the jukebox of what song to pick, Dakota deep in conversation with Elaine about a subject he’s passionate about, and Malia, in the middle of it all with her glass in hand. 

(Later, Malia will come back to the saloon to be greeted by a dog wagging its tail with a man trailing not too far behind her.) 

The last photo on the board is a sign that says WELCOME TO STARDEW VALLEY! 

The sun is just rising over the trees in Cindersap Forest, over the top of a familiar van, and Sloane is caught mid-smirk, a teasing glint in faer eyes as fae reach faer tea cup out to clink it against the photographer’s cup, barely visible in the lower left-hand corner of the photo.

There’s a lone piano in the airport. The giant windows in the foreground are blurred, but the raging storm outside is visible. Even then, it’s easy to miss when the subject of the photo seems to capture all the attention: Ben, sitting at the piano bench, hands frozen over the keys. He doesn’t seem to notice someone’s taking his photo, and the look on his face is peaceful, calm.

Any picture of Koa in Finley’s reel is more often than not barely catching his blurry form. At the summer extravaganza, however, you bet he wants his knight costume to be immortalized through photography. He stands near the stage, chest puffed out, grinning wide, striking the most heroic pose he can (Finley made sure to add an extra shine to his suit while editing). In the back, Lizzie is trying to jump into the frame, waving at the photographer in her poofy princess dress.

Lizzie gets her own portrait, though. It’s after one of her and Finley’s training sessions. Her ponytail is slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed from running, but it seems like she set a new best running time, because she has her arms thrown in the air, eyes wide and mouth curled into a bright smile. She barely looks tired.

Some of the valley kids gather in front of the library after a day of school. Some stick their tongues out, others flash toothy smiles; meanwhile, Alex crouches behind them to level their height differences out, the look on his face somewhere between content and amused at the kids’ antics.

It’s nighttime, deep in a small clearing in the forest. There’s a scattering of camping tents set up in the background. In front of them, Henry sits on a log, a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a cup of cocoa cradled in his hands. The campfire in front of him washes him in warm light. Although tired, the light shows in his eyes, which shine as gently as the shy smile on his face.

Kiran sits under a tree by the town, a picnic blanket splayed out beneath him and a sketchbook propped up on his lap. It seems like he was previously entranced with whatever he was drawing before Finley made him look up. His gaze is focused on the camera lens, a brow raised slightly, but the corners of his lips are raised slightly, pencil still pressed to the page.

The next portrait overlooks the ocean by the pier. There’s a lone boat floating along the water with two figures sitting inside. Willy, the fishing shop owner, isn’t paying attention to the camera; he has his fishing line tossed over the edge and is staring intently at the water in heavy concentration. Jemma, however, is not as focused; she practically leans over the boat, frozen in mid-ecstatic-wave towards the photographer, mouth open as if she was yelling out a greeting.

Matty stares at the screen of the only working arcade game in the Saloon, a picture of utter focus, his hands slightly blurred from whatever quick movement he was doing along the controls of the game. There’s a half-empty Joja Cola can propped up precariously beside the controls, and yes-- that is the renowned Pizza Slut hat sitting proudly on his head. Kiran is visible in the back, playing a game of pool with Malia-- though he seems more focused on Matty than anything else.

Malia isn’t looking at the camera. Instead, her head is thrown back in a laugh, an arm spread over the back of her couch. Her other hand is petting her cat, Salem, who is curled up in her lap. There’s a bottle of wine on the side-table and the sun is just beginning to set, the golden hour rays peeking in through the windows, casting the house in yellow light. For a moment, the house doesn’t look like a museum of memories; it just looks like a home. Malia looks happy.

Anya looks like an absolute natural on stage. The light from the disco ball glitters beautifully against her as she looks out at the crowd, clad in her skates and a charming smile. Behind her, her proposal for a roller rink is projected. Even if it wasn’t the winning proposal, the portrait makes it hard to ignore how easily she can capture anyone’s attention.

Art... really likes apples, huh? Did anyone else know that? His portrait is the definition of happiness, the grin across his face endearing as he reaches out towards the apple the photographer is holding out, visible at the bottom of the frame. The farm looms in the background behind him. Lizzie once again tries to sneak into the photo from a distance.

Sofia tilts her head at the camera, a small simper on her lips as she stands behind the counter of the library, hands placed neatly on top of its surface. Half of her hair is tied up in two buns on either side of her head. In front of her, there’s a notebook scribbled to the margins with words and, beside it, there’s a stack of books. Are they reserved for someone? There’s a sticky note on top that reads: for Elaine.

Sasha’s portrait is probably the most professional-looking, if only because it’s the only one that was planned-- she needed photos for her Instagram, and Finley needed more pictures in their portfolio. It was a begrudging agreement. Sasha leans back against a fence that overlooks the wide open space in front of the farms. The sun is shining, wind blowing gently through her hair as she looks off in the distance. Even if she’s posing, there’s an unmistakably pensive look in her eyes.

Dakota crouches on the forest floor, a wooden sign near them warning passerby's not to tread near. Their brows are creased in concentration, though it looks like they’re almost trying not to notice the camera-- which is exactly what had happened. “It’s for a festival entry! Just... act natural! Study the dirt or something, you know-- look academic.”

It’s after the General Store has finally reigned victorious over Joja Mart. Elaine is in charge of helping prepare the store for its reopening, but she’s taking a break at the time the picture is taken. She sits on the back of her ✨ truck ✨, the remnants of her finished snack beside her. She seems to be entranced in a book, a rare look of contentment washing over her face as her eyes dart across the pages. It’s hard to make out the cover of the book-- something by Stephen King.

Archie stands outside of the Saloon, leaning against one of the walls as a cigarette hangs from her lips, her bag slung over her shoulder. One of the outside lights shines down on her, given that it’s already well into nighttime. The look she gives the camera is dull, unimpressed. Finley must have said something really charming at the right time, however, because there’s a hint of something lighter coloring her features-- a gentle amusement.

The flower shop takes center stage... almost. Thalia commands attention, though; the small girl is almost a blur of movement as she’s caught mid-skip towards the camera. There’s a lemonade stand behind her, and she no doubt has a practiced script to get Finley to buy some. Gabe waits by the stand, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze focused on his daughter; the love in his eyes is clear as day.

Finley doesn’t know Arden that well, but they find her outside of the General Store, and the light is hitting her just right, so it’d be a shame not to capture the moment. Arden only notices the camera after the photo has been taken. in her portrait, she’s too busy looking through the flyers pinned up on the bulletin board. Finley knew that look she wore all too well-- looking for a brand new start.

Iris had just finished pinning up a paper up on the bulletin board when Finley asked to take a photo. It seems like Iris had been almost too happy to oblige. In her portrait, she strikes a practiced pose, hip jutting out, a hand on her waist, head cocked to the side with a smirk. She’s wearing a puffy jacket and sunglasses perched atop her head, a combination that truly makes no sense, but her confidence radiates through the photo enough that it almost works.

Even if she’s new, Zola seems to fit in just fine at the Saloon. It’s an odd contradiction, though, because with the sweet smile stretched across her lips, she manages to stand out against the rest of the regulars loitering in the back. She seems to be in a conversation with the newest bartender, who looks sheepish but excited as she watches Zola, who’s in the middle of tossing an ice cube in the air and catching it within a shot glass. Sick moves.

Adria stands in front of her office building, smiling brightly at the camera. It had only been a few days after she arrived and was officially open for business, and that much is noticeable on her face. Her eyes are bright and enthusiastic, her smile warm and inviting. She looks hopeful. It’s the kind of hope the valley desperately needed.

There’s a softness to Jillian in this portrait that feels rare. It seems like it’s just another normal day of work at the General Store. Jillian is in the middle of organizing jam jars on the shelves, but her head is turned towards the camera. The photo captures the last remnants of what was probably an exasperated and/or annoyed glare before it was replaced by something much more simple, but just as loud-- a tiny smile.