Authors Note
Just a short oneshot that I wrote for being in the top percent in Australia for short story writings and what not... Yeah, so I hope you enjoy this.
The main character is Gallipoli (who is my OC), she is a part of the Ottoman Empire (now Turkey), but to me I find that she would be more Australian and New Zealand-ish after World War 1.
Yeah, so I hope you enjoy this short oneshot! I'll probably start writing more oneshots than actual longish stories...
Apples ^_^
I do not own Axis Powers - Hetalia, if I did then Australia and New Zealand would have actually showed up in both the manga and anime by now!
She felt their pain and suffering, as if it were her own. In fact, in some ways it was. She felt their blood as it was shed, trickling its way into pools on her shores. She heard the cries of those left behind, those who were alive, the cries of the injured and the complete and deathly silence of those who would never rise again to walk this earth.
She could still hear the echoes of the battle cries of those men who had perished, not knowing if their side had one in the end, when in fact no man won. There was never a proclaimed victor of this battle. She wept for the fallen soldiers, their families and comrades thousands of miles from her coastlines. She wept for her fellow countries losses on her beaches.
She hoped that they wouldn't blame her for what had happened on her shores and the land that was her. She hoped that they didn't want to declare another war on her shores where already far too much blood had been shed. She hoped that they would forgive her for what had happened to their peoples and how she never meant it to happen.
When the explosions hit her shores, blood of her own was spilling from an open wound. She screamed when another hit and this continued for what seemed like months, years. No one had heard her scream after that day, she wanted to be strong. Not just for herself, but for her people and all that stood for her country.
Her rebuilding took time. Her friends, her fellow nations, helped her recover in the best ways that they knew how. They built her a shrine, to commemorate those who had fought and lost their lives on her shores. They knew that she felt guilty for those lost, when it wasn't even her fault that they were gone. They knew that it wasn't even worth trying to convince her that it was the fault of a single human being, not that of a nation (or part of a nation that she was). The ghosts would haunt her for her entire existence.
This shrine, though, would give her peace of mind. Knowing that even those people had died, she could still talk to them and tell them that she was sorry for what had happened. It was nice for her to know that these people had forgiven her and many of their spirits had tried to convince her that they were glad of what they had done. That they had died to know that their families and friends back home could have a better future.
Years passed by, and every year on the same day thousands upon thousands of people would cram her shores for the memorial service every year. She attended every single one of these memorials, staying until the very end. This was now her past and she had to come to terms with what had happened and she had after almost ninety-six years.
Her name is Gallipoli.