Okay, then. Today is 9/11, and I'm struggling through my writer's block to write this during computer class and publish from my phone. I have no time at home, and I finished my assignment here. Please remember, I was like five for 9/11/2001, and I don't remember it that well. Plus, I have never been to New York City.
It was a normal day in New York City; business men and women hailing taxies to get to work, students chatting with friends on the way to school, subways passing below ground, and the people performing on the streets and in subway stations. Amidst all of the chaotic noise, a gentleman in a WWII style bomber jacket with a big fifty on his back, black slacks and shoes, and a white shirt with a blue tie was proudly walking towards the UN building. There was a World Meeting that day, and America was the host since it was being held in his country. He got to the building, proved his identity, and went up to the meeting hall.
The room was already full, and the meeting was about to start when he took his place between Canada and England at the head of the table. He started the meeting, and was going through his latest idea when all of a sudden; he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He looked out of the window, trailing off mid-sentence and face morphing into one of abject horror as he saw what was happening outside. The rest of the world was confused, until a loud bang sounded from outside that shook their building.
The nations all spun to face the window and nobody except England, Canada, and Prussia-who was beside Canada-noticed America collapse with a pained grunt. England caught him, and Canada helped lower him to the floor while Prussia stripped him of his shirt and jacket to get to the wound. The three nations watched as the hole in his stomach grew in size. Prussia was calling for China to help heal America when a second explosion rattled their building. Japan and Lithuania turned away from the building to help America, while Russia simply walked over to his rival, worried about his health but not knowing what to do.
Prussia had just gotten the first two wounds clean and China had mixed his salve when America's eyes flew open, and he began to choke on his own blood, a wound appearing in his throat. Japan turned on his phone to figure out what happened, while Lithuania-to the horror of his siblings-began to punch and kick the glass while crying, as if he could reach the terrorists from there.
Canada growled in anger as he was pushed aside, then began crying, cursing his own lack of ability to help. He couldn't do anything...he could do nothing to help his dear older brother who always noticed him. Cursing when America managed to spit out the blood, only to begin choking again, he crawled over, and propped his brother's torso on his lap.
"Who the Hell did this?!" Canada growled, his alternate form beginning to come out. "Well?"
"Matthieu! Calm yourself!" France spoke up from where he sat, staring numbly at his lover and children. "Bringing James out will help nobody! Do you see England bringing out Oliver, and me Francois?"
"But Papa, look! He is dying, why can't I help him?"
Before France could reply, they heard something amazing from Japan's phone. Hundreds of Americans all over the country had flags and were singing their "Star Spangled Banner", while even more prayed for the dead and missing.
"Matt, I'm not gonna die tonight," America cut in, coughing up more blood, his throat wound already beginning to heal. "After all, my people are stubborn bastards."