literature

In god we trust

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LiteraryCrescendo's avatar
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Literature Text

((Been stressed recently, so I needed to write something angsty))

He can't take it anymore can't take it.

He sets his glasses down, blue eyes soft, no wild energy left, just a sense of peace.

What had happened to his people?

Once upon a time, they had been willing to fight, they wouldn't have turned blindly while their leaders, his boss, slowly drove them towards destruction, sheep in a herd, driven towards a slaughterhouse.

He feels sad, but can't regret this.

He looks around once more, gun cold in his hand, eyes taking in the still dark room, lips twitching into a smile at the sight of England, still asleep.

He is quiet as he walks over, kneels next to the bed, sweeping the blonde bangs back to gently kiss Arthur's forehead, a soft 'I love you' escaping him.

England stirs, but does not wake, so peaceful in his sleep, face free of stress.

He stands again, on his wall hangs his flag, and he takes it, cloth cold under his hands, nothing more than a scrap, worthless now, but it seems right to take it.

he shuts the door behind him, when he leaves the room and the house, most grass glistening gold and orange in the rising sun, and he turns to face it.

he cocks the gun, and it clicks in his hand.

It's pretty really, everything, so peaceful.

He smiles again, the first of the humans, his people, are awakening, to go work for hours at their mindless jobs, never to pause and take in the truth.

He coughs softly, he hasn't been very well for a while.

mercury in the vaccines of his people, a poison to the body.

Lies in the media, a poison to the mind.

The streets are empty again.

He raises the gun slowly, cool metal welcome against his head, body aflame with heat.

He isn't afraid to die.

The shot is loud, red staining the gold grass, eyes fluttering, someone steps out of their house of course, the sound must have been heard from a long ways off.

The sign that the person carries makes him smile as he falls, hand tightening around his flag, someone willing to try.

Maybe someday, if more open their eyes.

He will be reborn.

The sign isn't dropped, even as the human's eyes widen in shock.

And America's eyes seem to follow those words, even as the clear blue orbs glaze over.

Inaction is Slavery.
Political views in a hetalia fanfiction? Yeah, deal with it.

Comments are love even if they're only short little things telling me you hated/loved it.

Inaction is slavery Freedom is a choice.

Research your country carefully, things have happened that would make you pretty fucking angry if you knew about them.
© 2010 - 2024 LiteraryCrescendo
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Lucky-goes-haha's avatar
hmmm! I am trying to get my head around this.

I love how you portrayed a sense of betrayal. Also the sense of helplessness.

This is really well written :3