By Alexia Tzortzis, TIWP Student

The island was full of women.

A few of them had gotten sick of everything some years ago and decided to leave, to start a sanctuary for woman.

The island they reside on is small, a tropical place of beautiful lush forests and plentiful food.

A fierce people, they accept any woman who comes to them, and raise their children themselves.

They called the island Gaia, and themselves the Gaian, after the ocean goddess.

Many have tried to breach this island.

All have failed.

Unless you are female, you cannot enter.

Steep cliffs make up the outside with a large tunnel leading to an oasis inside.

Guards stand outside the diamond gates, and they watch as the waves crash against the stone below them.

Only one male has ever been inside and that is because he was born there.

The mother did not know she was pregnant with her rapist’s child until she had already entered the sanctuary.

He now acts as a lesion between the two worlds, holding what little peace is left and trying to quell attacks. He sails with a band of fearless woman who love the taste of the sea as much as they love the sight of fear in the eyes of cowardly men.

They lived beautifully on this island, healing the scars men had left on their body, healing the scars men had left on their minds.

The first to die in this place passed peacefully, with the entire village around her.

She was buried under a tree, her favorite dagger stuck as a reminder of what she once was.

And so this became the tradition.

When you came to the island, you made a dagger.

This becomes your dagger, the dagger left behind when you are gone.

The forest is littered with daggered trees, some plain and elegant, others made with precious gemstones.

All are equally beautiful, just like the women who live on this island.

The island of refuge for those in need of it.

The island for those who are hurt.

The island for those who can’t take it anymore.

The island for woman.