The night closed in around the little boy, garbed in a white nightgown closed at the neck with a ribbon. He ran through huge halls, bare feet smacking against the cold, hardwood floor. Dark shapes loomed over him from the walls and he knew the ghosts from his dreams were hot on his heels. Turning a corner his feet slid out from under him and he fell with a cry. The boy's heart pounded as the noises from the phantoms grew louder in his ears. Whimpering, he scrambled to his feet and continued to race down the hall. He'd only gotten so far before a new obstacle shadowed over him; stairs. He wanted to scream, to yell and stomp in frustration and fear, but he didn't have time. Using his hands and his knees he felt his way up the stairs.
He must have been about two thirds of the way up when, in the darkness, he misjudged the size of the stair. His feet slipped and small hands grappled for purchase that wasn't there. With a cry, he slid down, the wood forming a burn on his stomach as he slid down. The momentum of the fall allowed him to hit his head, stunning him. Slowly pausing himself up, the silence of the night crushed the boy's ears. Wide, bright, fearful blue eyes pierced through the darkness, searching for the phantasms that were right behind him. Eyes alighted on a light, light blue in colour and no larger than a tennis ball. The boy froze, eyes growing, if possible, wider.
He scooted his tiny body away until it was flush against the bottom stair. A scream couldn't escape his tightening throat. The light moved towards him, and a tiny face reviled itself. Finally, a scream tore itself from his throat and hot tears spilt from blue eyes.
The blue light flashed and whizzed above the crying child's head. Seconds later a light above the stairs flickered to life. Little America continued to sob, all courage broken down, as soft footsteps found their way to the top of the stairs, shadowed robe flowing around him. The boy whimpered and trembled. "America!"
The boy jumped. As the figure descended the stairs America slowly came to process the voice, "E-Engwand?"
Sure enough, as the figure exited the backlight, features came into focus. Green eyes, almost overshadowed by eyebrows, shone in concern, "America, what happened?" The boy continued whimpering as he held up his hands to the older nation. England sighted but scooped up the trembling bundle, "Come lad, let's put you back to bed."
"Nooo!" He buried his face into the Englishman's chest while clinging to his nigh-robe.
England sighed again and shook his head, "No harm in having you sleep with me tonight I guess." The boy hummed happily to himself as he nestled down into his caretaker's hold. England smiled at the boy, wrapping his arms further around him, as he ascended the stairs. Extinguishing the light, he noted the faerie who'd warned him of America's distress. He nodded her his thanks before nestling down in the warm down-quilt with the boy for a peaceful night.
Just wrote this today. Relativity pleased.