My very first story. Well. On here anyway.
Review, please?
-thumbs up-
Cling Cling.
There was nothing America wanted more than to be human. A ridiculous statement to the other nations, or it would be, if America had ever openly expressed his desire. To be human. Human. To take part in mortality. The thought prickled in his mind. Imagine.
To trade places. To turn the tides. To give up this 'gift' given to him.
The happiness of immortality was utter blasphemy. You live to die. What is the purpose of ever living if you know you will never die? You have all the time in the world. Literally. So why rush? This is why happiness could be found in death. How good rest would feel after a 'long' hard life.
And so America found that he did not have the freedom of death.
It was the freedom. His first and only love. It would always be for the freedom. The open space. The flexibility. The ability to do whatever it was his heart so desired is what drove him. The words tingled on his tongue. The others would not understand. How could they? Have they ever tasted freedom like he had? If only for a moment. A split second in his memory, he had felt it. Tasted it.*
And he fell in love. Fell in love with the feel of it. Fell in love with the very idea.
And his mission began.**
To become free. To seek out that touch once more. He searched. He wandered. But there was a swelling in his heart that he had never known before. A bulge. A wall. And he knew. That somehow, America knew in his heart, that by seeking freedom, he had created a cage. In one way or another. He had enclosed himself. Had failed to realize the line of wrong and right. Failed to see how far he would have to go. He lost sight of what he was after. America had caged himself. He closed himself inside, locked the door, and threw away the key. America knew. It was his fault. It's what he always heard from the others. He had caused this. He had inflicted this torture. It was him.***
The burden tightened the shackles. He could hear them moving in his mind. The farmilar sounds of metal hitting metal.
Cling Cling.
And he hated it.
He loathed it. With every fiber of his being. Every last atom. But fate had been kind to him. No. Not fate. He had done this as well. He had brought this. America was lost in the world. The world of lies and hate and conspiracies, but in this terrible world, his love returned. Found him once again and showed him the way.****
After this, all America could think of was what he wanted. America would fight. He could kick and scream and claw his way to freedom. He would kill anyone in his way. Family? Who needs them. Real friends? Childs play. Happiness? He would have it. Once he could feel it once more. So he drove for it, leaped and bounded and fought and ran until he reached the top and breathed in the air that America thought would smell of the freedom he had wanted to be with again. *****
And that stopped him.
Cling Cling.
He was wrong. Horribly wrong. The cage had become smaller. The lock larger. The bars thicker. By acceling to the top, by become super, he had ruined himself once again. More responsibility. More death. More lies. And most importantly, more need. A desperate need to be human. To leave this terrible world of nations and feel the freedom engulf him.
And suddenly, the words he had chosen to forget came into view. Spain had warned him. Told him he would only regret climbing that staircase. England had tried as well. Told him he wasn't ready, that it wasn't worth it, but America found all of this foolish. He knew the risks. He knew the consequences.
Others had encouraged him. Not that America needed such a thing. He would find it without their enthusiasm.
It is what defined him. The need for freedom and the want of humanity.
So America had a dark idea. Plumet himself back down.******
Start over. Try again. Do better this time. Finish the mission. He tried. He tried so hard. But it only gave him sorrow. Only made his desperation worse.
America felt his heart trembling every hour. He felt the pain at night- oh so many night that he had cried himself to sleep. He felt the dawn. Dawn. Day break. He found that fitting.
So he tried still. To crash himself to the bottom, jump over the ledge, hit the ground, stand up and try again. Find his freedom. And in his near triumph, he noticed the humans. They seemed free. Free of nations. If they did not want to fight in a war, they did not have to. They were not compelled into battle. If they didn't want to deal with politics and lies and corruption, they did not have to.
Cling Cling.
This is all America wanted. To be free. Move away. Far away. In the heartlands, where the open space and the wind would great him home. Or maybe to the north. Very very very far north.
He was a country of vision. He wanted to be a man of wandering. A man. A man.
And then there was ground. He had hit the bottom. Hard.
The feelings of his people only caused him pain. It was not his sorrow. It was theirs. Theirs. These were not his own emotions. Not his own will. It boiled his blood. He wanted his own feelings. His own thoughts. He wanted to be himself. He wanted to be Alfred F. Jones.
And his ultimatum came.
He could start climbing. It would be easy. Just start over. Fix his way to the top and possibly find himself back in the terrifyingly small cage or he could do something else. Something that guaranteed results. Something that would forcibly make him trade places. It was frightening. Terrifying. But, somehow, exhilarating.
Cling Cling.
And he waited. He thought. He stayed on the bottom for a short while, both options in his hands. In his right, the staircase. In his left, freedom. Then he stood.
He had reached his decision.
Cling Cling.
He pulled the trigger. The trigger that would finish this mission.
At last. At last he could taste it. He could feel the wind. Feel it. Can you imagine? Can you? God, he could feel the wind. Smell that freedom again. It was glorious. It was amazing. It was painful.
Cling Cling.
He ignored the pain. He ignored the growing darkness. He ignored the yelling of some country which had witnessed his choice. But, even in his break of freedom, he wondered what that nation was yelling about. Something of love. America broke into a grin. Ah, yes, love.
Snap.
America's love. This is what he now focused on. The darkness took him. But he was in the hands of his love now. In the hands of freedom.
* This part was about the Revolutionary War. Im sure all of you know why.
** Think Manifest Destiny.
*** Oh the wonderful Civil War!
**** Reconstruction, anyone?
***** America climbing to becoming one the most powerful nations in the world. A superpower, if you will.
****** America's economy. Nuff' said.
I'll let you decide who the other nation was. Whatever pairing you like.