The unwavering darkness swirled at the edges of the small band of light the candle emitted. The wooden floor boards made only the slightest of creaks with each hesitant step. Milky blackness filled the room, destroying all visual.
The shadows that festered in the very edge of vision seemed to manipulate and morph making horrifying silhouettes growing and growing before being dispelled as the light slowly inched forward.
The pure darkness that the candlelight could not reach had a terrifying aura. The blackness seemed to be hiding a creature of great evil, if not being completely evil itself.
America held the candle a little higher with trembling hands. He was afraid to glance behind him, afraid of showing any fear, and ultimately afraid of the unknown presence that had invaded his home.
The eerie silence could almost be felt, as if clinging to the pyjamas that hung loosely off his body. It was strangling.
He hoped against hope that in this silence he would be able to hear any threat that would come from behind. That hope was quickly quashed by the thought that maybe he'd gone deaf. Maybe all sound had been drained from the world. The fear was so consuming, it was as if the corridor in which he was walking stretched on forever. It was as if the entire world had melted way, the only thing that had ever, or ever would exist, was the blinding fear, the darkness and the wooden floorboards could be seen underfoot.
America had been roused by a painful clench of pure terror at his gut. He didn't remember when or how long ago it was. Hadn't an idea even what it was. The horror that seemed to clutch at his very bones destroyed all sense of time or direction. Even the sense of oneself.
America's face was pale with fear. He gazed into the darkness trying to see something... anything. It's impossible to fight an enemy when you don't know what it even is.
His jaw slackened while his eyes widened. America's heart was pounding an incessant rhythm at high speeds against his chest. The fear that sat in his gut blew into bone-numbing terror.
In front of him, the swirling darkness began to take a shape. The morphing whirl started to converge at a point, in a mini typhoon of sorts suspended in the air. From the eye of the spiral a small sickening white, almost gray, light appeared. While more darkness flowed into the light it grew bigger, beginning to take features.
He should run, hide. He should do anything except stand there vulnerable.
But he didn't.
America, the self-proclaimed hero, had tears running down his cheeks.
He knew what it was and what was coming. He also knew he was powerless to stop it.
From the typhoon of darkness a pale white face slowly started to emerge. Small strays of darkness rolled of the figure's face as he advanced at a languid pace. As more it appeared America could recognise the developing shape.
A human.
But as the shape became more detailed America was able to recognise that it wasn't just any human. The features sharpened and colored just slightly. Limp straw-like hair was pulled from the darkness. America's gaze locked with a pair of foggy gray-blue eyes.
A lopsided smirk outlined itself on the intruder's face.
"Hey there," manic eyes glinted at the simple greeting.
America turned and ran. That was all he could think to do. There was no hope against this monster. But the hallway seemed to stretch on for miles, and with each step seemed to elongate further. It was a fruitless attempt.
The horrific figure seemed to be propelled from the darkness, wispy entrails of smoky black rolling off its body.
In a split second, it was in front of America and had him trapped. Pale, bony fingers wrapped around the nation's neck in a crushing grip.
America could feel the breath being squeezed out of him. He was caught by something that he did not know how to fight.
He felt hot breath on his face as the dark figure crushing him drew closer.
"Now is that anyway to behave?" the voice was familiar and sounded sweet, but the evil dripping from the words was almost tangible.
In all the comics, the hero was courageous and always had a witty comeback to launch at his captor before unleashing his hidden manoeuvre and saving the day.
But America didn't even have enough strength to scream for help.
He looked into his enemy's face, seeing a reflection of himself. They were identical, save for the gray wash color of the figure from the darkness.
America was fighting himself.
The manic eyes glinted at the helpless appearance of the true America.
The perpetual smirk grew hysterical.
"Well now it's time for my fun!"
America struggled to escape but the already bone-crushing grip tightened, stilling his hurried movements.
He felt himself thrown to the floor violently with a heavy weight instantly landing on top of him, hands still around his throat.
America looked into the eyes of his horrific counterpart. He saw what was coming. Pain, torture, misery then...
Death.
So much death swirled in the eyes of the doppelganger.
America wanted to fight back. He felt the need to, just as anyone would.
But he was beginning to lose hope.
So he lay there completely defenceless to his psychopathic attacker.
The figure hovering above him smirked.
"This is how war goes my friend."
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
America jolted to life with a scream. He was sitting in his own bed, cold sweat beading down his body. He was shaking to his very core. His mind was sharp, but clouded by fear.
A dream... it was all just another dream...
He let out a shaky sigh, not past the ordeal. He'd been having this bone-numbing terrifying dream every time he fell asleep in the past months. Day or night, nap or otherwise, whenever he fell asleep he had horrific nightmares. Each one differed, but featured the same evil presence. The same monstrous version of himself.
America knew he was slowly losing himself. Slowly losing his mind.
A nation destroying one's self from the inside out.
Civil War.
Author's Note: Yes, a Halloween fic about the Civil War... One/Two days early =P Screw you whatever xD Jk I luv you guys.
Now before you guys start a hatin', I support neither side in the war. Or any war. And the dark!America is not necessarily the Confederacy. I want to stress - in this fic, America is losing his mind and destroying himself from the inside.
And I know nothing about the Civil War. I'm sorry . But a friend of mine suggested it as a background for a story and I got inspired.
So...
/\
( 7
l、 ヽ
じしf_, )ノ - I'm going as a kitty :3
BOO! Happy Halloween!