A man finds a book.
Its cover is full of dust, and much too damaged to read the title, is there ever was any. The aura the book gave seemed somehow familiar to the man
He wondered if he should open it. Maybe it is what hides the answer to all questions, maybe it held a deep dark secret.
Curiosity got the better of the man, and he sat down on the dusty floor and opened the book.
It was clearly handmade, as its letter style showed, and it seemed that it wasn't a diary, but a story.
He started to read the first paragraph with mild curiosity.
There once was a famous saying, "There are two tragedies in life; not getting what you want, and getting what you want."
Sometimes, or maybe all the time, life works in a way that getting what you want is, far from a tragedy, almost something close to a blessing.
But what about hose who never do get what they want?
The man laughed darkly at this, wetted his lips, and continued reading, now fully engrossed in the mysterious book.
This is exactly what this book is about.
We are what some story writer call "the unloved".
We are the fair maidens who fell in love with Romeo, and had to watch him die alongside other.
We are the ones that had to watch our beauty cry over her beats, and not us.
We are the ones who need, more than anyone, a chance.
First off, I don't own Hetalia, nor anything else that is mentioned here. Yes, that includes the English launguage itself.
OK, so this isn't my first story, but it is the first one I post here. I'm kinda scared so support would be nice! This is only the prologue, and I guess it isn't so Hetalia related, but the best is yet to come.
I do hope that at least someone finds entertainment from this =3