Le Traité De Paris
"Mon dieu! Where is it?", I murmured as I placed my clothes into a bag "Why did it have to be like this?" looking around the room melancholy filled me, the delicately painted floral wall paper that decorated the walls, the silver birch furniture, scuffed in places due to use, the oil lamps that clung to the wall, the patch quilt blanket made up the bed neatly, white lace curtains adorned the bay window and forest green velvet adorning the chairs in the sitting area. Clothes littered the oak floor. "I wish my boss would have given me more notice, sadly it is not so" the sound of the door opening drew my attention as my adorable young ward came through, "such a cute young boy, he has my silky blond locks and beautiful violet eyes, like the lavender fields back home, oh how he reminds me of my self when I was younger" I though to my self.
"Papa?", he asked me in his small voice .
"What is it Mon petit?", as I looked at him ushering him into the room
"Where are you going?"
That pang again, "Oh how I wish it would go way, I fell like such a traitor", I though to my self.
"What makes you thing that ma chère?'", I said my voice cracking a bit
"Your packing your things...your not going to go away again a-are you? I though you said the war was over Frances!", tears starting to fill his beautiful violet eye, putting a knife through my heart
"La malediction de dieu vous Arthur!", I told my self thinking of that man who is causing all this trouble and crouched down to my knee.
"I-I have to go Mathieu", My eyes went hot and I began to shake as I said this, trying to gain some self control I told him "It's n-not like you'll never see me again, H-He'll take good care of you."
"What do you mean he'll take care of me, who is he, Papa tell me what going on", anguish was in his word as more tears began to fall, he buried his face into my chest ,"I don't want you to leave papa, and if you do I want to go with you Papa, please don't leave, I love you, I don't want you to go papa...",he sobbed.
I held him closes to me, lousing my self control, tears began to fall down my cheeks," Its going to be okay Mathieu, Arthur is going to look after you now."
"A-Arthur?", he stuttered.
"Better know as England or the Kingdom of Great Britain, we lost the war Mathieu, I can't be your Papa anymore, I need to go home now, I don't think I'll be able to see you for a while", I calmly explained to him, patting his back trying to calm him down, even if in my mind I felt like kicking and screaming.
"Take me with you papa, I want to come with you to France.", he pleated with me.
"If only I could, I would Mon petit, but unfortunately life does not work like that for people like you and me, you should know that", with those last words I stood up and collect my things form my bedroom and pulling on my coat, I scooped up my little Mathieu into my arms, picking up his white bear, which was nudging my leg and put her in to his arms, feeling his tiny hand grip my coat, tears still staining his eyes.
"I'm so sorry that our time together has been cut so short. Please be good for your new guardian okay?"
"Sir, the coach is ready", a young officer waiting outside told me, his blood red coat vivid against the darkening sky.
"Merci Monsieur.", I told him bluntly and placed Mathieu into his arms his hands sliding out of his grip as the younger man took him placing a kiss on his forehead I told him once again, "Be good, listen to what Arthur says and maybe I'll be able to see you once more, adieu mon cher petit garcon. ", and stepped into the coach. It would be many, many years before I saw my little boy again.
"Papa, don't go!", I tried to yell out to my Papa as I griped my bear, but the words just wouldn't come and I found my self nodding as he told me to be good for this 'Arthur' person who he says is like me and papa, apparently this person is a nation, like papa and me, over in far away Europe. Papa has taught me all about the countries in Europe like his brothers Spain and Italy, plus other nations like England and Germany who are really powerful. "But I don't want England to look after me, I want papa to",I thought to myself and struggled around in the mans arms that Papa had put me in after the coach had gone. He set me down and I glanced up at him seeing a frustrated look on his face turning into shock as I bolted away.
"Please! young sir!...", was all I herd before I was out of ear shot Kumajirou held tightly in my arms.
"Papa!" tears steaming down my cheek as dusting of rain began to fall. I ran up towards the high cliffs where the land dropped into the ocean, ships where sailing out of the bay into the cold forbidding sea, I squinted my eyes looking for papa among the ships but didn't see him. I began to feel nauseous, "Papa's gone now, he is never going to come back" I though to myself and more hot tears fell from my eyes.
" No use crying about that frog, come on now, lets go", said a voice behind me, frightening me, I look up and a man with vivid green eyes and messy sandy blond hair with thick dark eyebrows who looked at me, a frown on his face.
"A-are y-you A-Arthur?" ,I questioned him nervously.
"Yes I am. You may call me Mr. Kirkland for now. Now come on, you'll catch your death out hear.", he replied.
"Why did you make papa leave?" I asked him.
"That bloody frog? He would have left sooner but his government doesn't like to take thing very seriously, insolent lot.", distain dripping from his voice., "Come on lad" he said again as he took my hand and led me back towards the house., "We'll have to fix that accent of yours and get you to speak some proper English".
He lead me down the slope of the cliff my hand held in his and my other one holding kumajirou , her soft white fur bright compared to the landscape around us, looking up as me with her black eyes, "Who are you again?"
"I'm Mathieu" I whispered to her
"I still don't know who you are"
Sighing I looked up towards Mr. Kirkland."So you and papa don't like each other?" I cautiously asked him.
"Of course I hate that git"
"I see, what's going to happen to me Mr. Kirkland? Are you going to look after me now?"
"You're an English colony now, its only right that I look after you, for now, anyways; I may have to go away for periods of time."
"Like how papa did when he was fig-...when he had to go home."
"Yes, no more questions."
"Okay."
It's been a week since Mr. Kirkland has been with me, I'm not very fond of him and I tend to stay away from him when I can, meal times are unavoidable and I have come to dread them. Mr Kirkland can not cook, Papa was an excellent chief and made such wonderful things and I'm not saying that Mr. Kirkland's food is not good to spite him, I mean he can not cook, everything is burnt, his biscuits are like rocks, and I think the stew he made last night had what looked like pieces of a leather boot in it and a cover off of a book….
I have to talk lessons from him, there not at all like the lessons that Francis gave me, he gives me a book, but its hard to read, I don't know a lot of English, Papa taught me some but not a lot. Mr. Kirkland says it's about the history of him. He has me read a chapter of it and tests me on what I've learned and when I don't answer a question right he frowns at me and starts telling me I should practice my English more; Then he has me read the book out load, frowning with each word that I speak.
"I wish papa was here" I told kumajirou later in my room whist I was laying on my bed a history book spread out over the soft green quilt.
"Who?", she blinked, her black eyes curiously looking at me.
"Papa, Francis!" I told her rolling on to my stomach.
"That bearded man?"
"Yes"
"Why did he go?"
"I-I don't know, Papa said he lost the war and had to leave and now Mr. Kirkland is looking after us."
"So the bearded man left like every one else has"
"What do you mean? People are leaving?"
"When I was with you and the bearded man, I saw people carrying their things and men in red coats."
"Oh….. Mr. Kirkland's people"
"Who are you again?"
"Mathieu"
"I know, but who are you?"
"I'm never going to get anywhere with you", sighing I rolled over from my stomach on to my side.
"I don't think Mr. Kirkland likes me very much" I mumbled.
"Matthew!" Mr. Kirkland called out to me.
"I've got to go, Mr. Kirkland is calling me, coming sir!" I jumped out of the bed and toward the study.
"Yes sir"
"I want you to go over this" he told me handing me yet another history book.
"Umm.. Mr. Kirkland…. Why is it that many people are leaving?", I asked him quietly.
"What do you mean lad?"
"The people who have always been here, there leaving"
"Oh them, well there bloody well not English now are they?" hatred filling his voice.
"But sir, they're my people! They have families", I yelled, my heart was in my throat, "how could he!" my mind screamed.
"So what, there not English, they may as well leave", no empathy what so ever etched into his words.
"There're families have been here for hundreds of years" tears began to build up and my eyes felt like they where turning into to hot glass.
"Your British now Matthew! Your loyalty belongs to the crown! You are no longer French!", anger this time.
"I don't want to be one of your colonys! What do you want to do? Use me? Is that it? Because I'm such a vast land? You only want me for my resources, nothing more! You'll never love me like papa did! Je ne t'aime, je ne peux pas supporter votre présence!" tears fell freely now, as if all the anger, fear and sadness of my people rose up inside me along with the loss of my Papa, I could no longer bear it, the book fell from my hand as I ran out the door heading as far away from that place as I possibly could.
"Papa, why did you have to leave!" the words came strangled and choked. Hearing the sound of a branch cracking I took a step backwards "Whose there!"
"Whoa, calm down", a young boy with sun bleach brown hair and blue eyes about my age came up to me.
" Who are you?",I asked him venomously.
"You don't know who I am? Why I'm the United States of America! Alfred F. Jones, at your service!"
"Um… it's nice to meet you Mr. Jones."
"What's with being so formal, you sound like my stuffy brother Arthur."
"Your Mr. Kirkland's brother?"
"Was, I left that jerk! I'm my own nation now, the U. S of A and don't you forget it! You can just call me Al… hey you have the same face as me!"
"No I don't!"
"Yeah you do."
"No way."
"Check it out" he said pulling me down towards the creek, looking at our reflections I noticed that we did look really similar.
"That's creepy", he blurted out," So how to you know Artie?
"H-he's my new guardian."
"Oh you must have been Frances kid! Lucky you toy get saddled with Artie, he's not so bad you know."
"If he wasn't so bad why did you rebel against him?"
"My people wanted to be their own people not some citizen of Britain that England didn't give two hoots about"
"I see…."
"But seriously Artie is a nice guy once you get to know him, hes just really stuffy, that's all"
"Are you sure?"
"Look, umm what did you say your name was?"
"It's Mathieu."
"Okay so Mattie, I was a colony of England, he was my elder brother and he did so much for me, he loved me and looked after me, it's just that, I grew up, I didn't need him anymore."
"You still look like a kid to me."
"Hey! Just you wait; I'm going to be one of the most powerful nations in the world"
"Oh sure!" And Mr. Kirkland will parade around in a kilt with the pattern of the French flag on it."
"Hey it could happen!"
"Sure….well maybe Mr. Kirkland isn't so bad"
"Just go up to him and ask him to play with you and if he refuses give him the big old puppy dog eyes, Artie just can't resist them"
"Ummm….. Okay… thankyou Al"
"That's all right, I like you Mattie, you should come over to my house to play some time when you get things sorted out with Artie"
"Okay I'd like that"
"Well see yeah…"he laughed and started singing "Yankee doodle went to town riding on a pony!"
Thinking about what Al had said I walked back to my house by then it had started to get dark, noticing a candle lit on the front porch with Mr. Kirtland sitting on an oak bench for once a smile on his face... maybe being a colony of England won't be so bad after all.
Looking up from the porch he got up and stated running towards me griping me into a tight hug "I'm so sorry I snapped at you like that Matthew, it just that you look so much like Francis w-when he was younger", he told me," we never really got along that well and I'm afraid to say that we still don't, its been a long war, it hard to forgive someone whom you've hated for most of your life, lets go inside and I'll make you some hot tea with scones"
Fear struck my face but didn't go unnoticed by the older man.
"Don't worry lad, I didn't burn them this time."
just something i worte for my summative english project, hope you like it^^