A/N:
[[Yo~ So, yeah. This came to me in a dream and when I woke up I was like "Holy crap! I'm going to be a writer!" xD So, yeah. I'm going to try a make a story. I don't know how many chapters are to be expected but it's not going to be a terribly long story. I hope. It's suppose to be a horror story surrounding the date July 4th. Why am I writing about such in the middle of January? Not a clue. . . Ah, well, Enjoy! It's short the first chapter so, yeah. ]]
Characters: America and England, mainly. I'll throw in random characters as we go along.
Rating: M. Why? The language and horrible scene, yet to be written. c:
Warnings: Language, gore, bloodshed, perhaps a bit of necrophilia?
Disclaimer:Not mine. =w=
It starts as a warm morning with the sun shining through the windows of a certain Brit's home. It was the summer after all and if you look a bit to the side, the calendar reads 'July 4th.' Oh, that definitely wasn't a good sign, not at all. Arthur Kirkland, the representation of the United Kingdom, lied in bed, not ready to greet the world. Hell, he wanted the day to go crawl in a hole and die somewhere. It was already deemed that it would be a horrible day. As he drags himself out of bed to ready for what was to come, he passes a mirror. What he saw, not only disgusted him, but frightened him terribly. There he was, drenched in blood and a maniacal smile printed on his face. He had to blink a few times before everything was normal, a normal reflection stared back at him. He inspected the mirror for a bit but nothing seemed abnormal. 'That was. . . odd.' He thought. Maybe he slept too little, or he really needed his cup of tea.
Yeah, that was probably it. He shook it off, not thinking much about it afterwards and resumes to his shower.
After pulling himself together for the day, his phone rings. He hesitantly picks it up, speaking politely. "'ello? Arthur Kirkland speaking." "Yo~!Iggy!" Oh bloody hell. He knew that obnoxious voice all too well. He places a hand on his hip, a scowl forming on his face. "Oh, 'ello there, America" He replied in a flat tone. "Hey! Wow, you sound really pissed, dude. Did you fall and break your hip or something, Old Man? Well, whatever." Arthur's eyebrow twitched as Alfred let out one of his infamous, loud laughers. He didn't want to speak to the fucking American, especially not today. Of all days! After his laugher died down, Alfred continues. "Anywho~ I wanted to know if you're coming to my birthd-" Without a single thought needed, Arthur slammed the phone down immediately, hanging up before Alfred could finish the sentence. The nerve. . ! "Fucking twat. Why would I celebrate your bloody birthday? You really must be /that/ stupid to ask." Gritting his teeth slightly.
On the other line, Alfred just stared at his phone awkwardly, yelling at it childishly. "You could've politely said 'No!' Tch. Whatever, I didn't want you there anyway!" He closes his phone, stuffing it into his pocket. He had to get ready himself. It was a big day after all. It was the United States of America's birthday. Americans nationwide were going to celebrate the big win. Barbecues, fireworks, parties. And despite what just happened, Alfred shrugged it off, thinking about how awesome later will be. It was going to be a good day, whether England was there or not to celebrate it beside him he thought. /He thought./ Too bad it wasn't going to end the way he had planned. No one way in for the horrors that were to come. No one, not even Arthur. . .
A/N:
[[Gah! So short! I'm sorry. ; w ; It's my first time writing a story. I don't know, now that I reread it, it sucks. Should I continue it? Well, whatever. ~ See you next time. ]]