Russia was driving in his dilapidated van, playing one of his favorite games. Who's Going To Be The Next Roadkill? He sipped his vodka, and patiently waited for an animal to cross the mountain road. He soon rolled down his window and let the cool air breeze in.
Patience, patience, he kept telling himself. He was getting very eager for the game's next contestant.
CRACK!
Russia smiled. Bingo!
A mule deer stepped onto the gravel, turning its ears to and fro. Russia, then stepped on the accelerator. Bye, bye deerie! As Russia sped forward, he felt a thump and stopped the car. He grinned and stepped out. On the side of a road laid the deer, dead... dead...
"Ow!" Russia put his hands to his head. An unexpected rush of pain came to his head. It cut and stung all of his thoughts, for what seemed like an eternity. When it left, Russia panted, as if he had ran a marathon. He looked back at the deer, cold, now; and lifeless. A stab of pain re-entered his head.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!"
A sudden flash of a deer then ran across his mind, standing in front of a frozen wasteland. It was hiding something behind it. It was small, and seemed to be crying. What was it? As Russia's view seemed to get enlarged, the image sailed away. He opened his eyes and got back into his van. What was going on? He somewhat hurriedly made his way home.
"Ivan, I've made your favorite! Roast quail dipped in vodka! Ivan? Ivan? Are you there?"
Ukraine's voice sailed through Russia's locked bedroom door. He was laying on his bed, replaying the deer image in his mind.
"I'm here Katyusha. I'm... I'm just not hungry... Eat without me."
Ukraine was shocked. He was ignoring vodka?! Something must be wrong. "O-okay," she replied, and walked away.
Russia turned over, looking up at the wall. He liked looking at the wall. He could sometimes decipher shapes and images there. He looked and saw a shooting star. No, it was a bottle of vodka! It was like cloud-gazing. Look! A sunflower! No, a deer.
The head pain came again. Russia began to yell in pain. He got off his bed and began to run around, trying to shake the pain out.
KNOCK!
"Ivan, are you okay? Ivan!" Ukraine's panicked voice said through the pain. Ivan didn't say anything but grunted. And then screamed.
Ukraine kicked open the locked door, and rushed to Russia's side, taking her in his arms. As he wracked about, she held him tight. A little while later, he stopped. Tears ran down his face.
"It hurts... It hurts so much," he sobbed. Ukraine tried to wipe away his tears, and hugged him even tighter.
"I know, I know," she muttered. "I know..."
Russia found himself outside England's house the next day. He had told Ukraine about what had happened in the mountains and the deer image. She then put him to bed, and woke him up early in the morning, and had driven him here.
He looked behind him and saw Ukraine wave. She rolled up her window and drove off.
He gulped and faced the imperious black door. He took the knocker and gave it three knocks. Nobody came. He rang the doorbell and heard several gongs. Nothing happened again. He rang the doorbell, again... and again... and again...
His fifth time ringing the doorbell, a groggy England answered the door. "What the- Oh, it's you. Come in." England motioned for Russia to come in.
"It sounded as if you knew I was coming," Russia remarked, as England led him to the parlor.
"I was," he replied, as he drew the curtains. "Ukraine called last night. Please, take a seat."
Russia took a seat on a plush turquoise armchair. He sat twiddling his thumbs, as England just sat there, watching, watching...
"So, please relay the events of yesterday," England commanded.
Russia quickly did so. At the end of his tale, England sat back and sighed. He had a furrowed brow.
"And this isn't the first time you've killed a deer, right?" he asked.
Russia thought for a moment. "I... I don't know. I've played the game so many times, killed so many animals, it's hard to remember."
"So, for all you know, this could actually be the first deer you've killed."
"Why, yes. I, uh- Ow!"
Russia put his hands up to his head. After thinking about the deer, the pain had come back... and strongly. England didn't do anything, but watch Russia writhe in pain. After it was over, England walked over to him and helped him back up.
"Do you have any... special connections with deer?" England asked.
Russia was breathing heavily. "I... I don't know. I- Ow!"
Again the pain returned. And then, the image.
It was the same image he had seen in the mountains. The same deer. The same snow. The same sound.
"I... I think I do!" stammered Russia through the pain. England nodded. "Go on."
"I... I'm looking at a deer. It's winter. There are some crying sounds... they're coming from behind the deer... I see... I see a boy. He's scared. He's lost. He's alone. He's wearing a scarf... He... It's... ME!"
Russia found himself looking down on his childhood self, battered and bruised. He was trying to climb on the deer, and the deer was eagerly accepting him. They were now walking through the deep snow, Russia still crying. After a while, they came upon a green meadow, filled with sunflowers. They walked down together. Russia picked up a sunflower, and gave it to the deer. "Sunflower, da?" the miniature voice asked. The deer threw it off its back, and Russia laughed. "Silly deer."
Then, there was some rustling. The deer, startled, skipped off. Russia cried out for it longingly, "Sunflower, come back!" Several people came through the immensely tall flowers. "Hey, look, there's a kid over here!" one of them yelled. He could feel himself being carried, but by who, he did not know. He kept looking for the deer, wondering if it would ever return...