It started off with a strike of fate.
It couldn't have been a coincidence, really. Of course it couldn't be a mere coincidence. The earth couldn't have just randomly out of nowhere and decide to restart all over again. It was supposed to live along with the sun, with billions and billions of years to come. Billions of more years to make its mark in the history of time.
But the humans changed the course of time drastically.
As humans, citizens really, went their ways to change their courses of time, several hundred people sat back and watched as generation after generation suffered. Lives came and went. Some were poisoned from the start, others pure and shining so much that they were able to touch many people's lives across the globe
To humans, each day they lived to see was just like any other. They set their own destinies to change the course, the billions of lives, of the world. They pampered as any other would. So basically, at a first glance, they'd seem like a normal human.
But, as the saying goes, looks can be deceiving.
Only a select few saw them in a different light. The rest only saw the perpetual darkness that was revealed by all the purposeful and "to protect the lives of many" lies told. After all, anybody who knew that their own nation, the very land that they stood on every day of their everyday life, was indeed a person would see them much differently than normal, for they had seen it all. Love, loss, hope, death, loneliness…everything.
I never meant that they had felt it.
Only a few did experience the burden, the true emotions only a human would be able to conjure up and master. Sure, they had felt them before, but not all truly knew how it felt to have the fear of receiving these emotions. Feelings, especially towards the fear death, were rarely given as much as a thought. They were nations after all, so why should death stare them in the face with his wide open (read: welcoming) gates just to scare them into submission?
Until the time when a strange event occurred did they truly stop to think death over once more.
The former nation, at long last, disappeared. His legacies of journals were left for time to claim. One by one, their memories were lost in an ocean of fate. They had finally met their doom.
Out of hundreds of shocked nations, only three truly suffered for the loss of the said former nation, for he had left his legacy to his younger brother, who was hardworking and strong. The second, an aristocrat who enjoyed his music and hated the now mourned one's pestering distractions. He always thought this day would've come ("Yes, when one day the idiot consumes too much beer for him to handle," the aristocrat had snorted, though it was half-hearted and actually full of concern), but not so soon…
The last was a tomboyish woman, who, behind her layer of sweetness and kind manners, was a woman with great power (which was displayed by how dangerous she could be with a frying pan) and was a childhood friend. "I miss all the noise already," she said a day into the aftermath. "It's too quiet and boring without him around now."
Together, they salvaged a diary that survived the grasps of time. The last and most recent entry was read aloud at a meeting that was held a week into the aftermath.
"I feel my time coming. Damn, I never thought that it would ever come. All of this nation business is finally getting to me…
…oh. I'm not a nation anymore, aren't I? I should be the one that, out of all the other punks, who should be the most afraid against death, shouldn't I? …Right?
I can feel myself slipping…my hands are wrinkling. My time, all of those awesome years of my life, have finally caught up to me. I guess it's time to join my old man.
…I'm sorry, everybody. I'm truly sorry for everything.
It's up to you now, West. Remember all of those times we used to spend under the stars? The time when I unified you and became your big brother? Remember? Remember how I said, "Make me proud"? I do. So how about you? Will you keep me in your mind forever, even though I'm gone? No, scratch that, will any of my friends remember me for the rest of their lives even from beyond the grave? I believe only you know the answer.
The awesome me loves you all.
Preußen
Prussia"
The brother then cried while everybody took a moment to reminisce about the entry. These were last words that their friend had ever written to them, his dear fellow nations. It was worth remembering and holding in their hearts forever.
-o-O-o-O-o-
From that day on, one by one, last good-byes were exchanged. Disappearances happened now and then across the globe as the earth progressed in its quest of rebirth.
One day, a boy, also known as a particular micronation, asked his elder brother (whom he called a jerk) why their kind was disappearing.
"Mother Earth wants a fresh new start once more," was how the elder brother responded.
-o-O-o-O-o-
It was time.
The planet had dissolved into chaos. Fires burned with endless fuel, mountains exploded as it they hated their peaks, seas crashed and battered the coastlines, and even the ground had decided to just randomly, with no warning, split into two and then reform as a rocky hills and mountains.
Only eight remained. They were the only eight who used their immortal strength to fight back the hopeless battle. To fight a war that would never end with a victor.
Now they stood, peacefully, in a field of grass. The sun smiled upon the last patch of beautiful scenery, erasing the pain and drowning sorrow. Flowers blossomed in the beautiful sweet-smelling grass, painting the world with colors of hope.
They stood in a circle, awaiting their individual ends. Times like this were rare, but did happen. No matter what they said, then all secretly within their inhuman hearts enjoyed them.
The first to go was the eldest, who said farewell to the brother who once loved him and his close ally and friend. Then he faded, leaving behind the scent of peonies and the ghosts of his long, steadfast history.
Second was the creeper, a tall, intimidating man with a strange reputation. He apologized for not accomplishing his dream of every one becoming one, but was content with fading into a place where there was always warmth, sunshine, and sunflowers. A place where he could be surrounded by his long-lost comrades.
Seconds later, he vanished into nothingness, finally free of his lonesome life.
Next was the hero, the youngest of them all. With liberty and justice accompanying him, he paved a path that only someone like him would ever dare to follow.
Now facing his once elder brother, he said, "I guess this is it."
"I thought heroes would stay and fight forever," the Brit whispered. The hero shook his head.
"Even heroes eventually fad away," he responded, his naturally stentorian voice reduced into a sad and hoarse whisper as he began to walk away from the field.
As the light enveloped him, he turned and saluted a silent farewell to his former brother and his only true friend. Then he was gone, disappearing into nothingness just like his look-alike brother.
Lucky number four turned out to be the shortest. His kimono flapped in the faint tendrils of a breeze as he bowed in respect before his fellow nations. He thanked the Brit for their friendship and his fellow allies for being wonderful friends during the war.
In a flash of darkness and light, he dissolved, as if he was merely an illusion and not a true being.
Following him was the scowling, tea-loving man. He apologized for terrorizing the meekest ("I honestly don't know why you always run away from me even now,") and nodded in respect towards the sternest. His gaze then rested on the last nation.
They stared for a long while, saying nothing. The silence was a sing of mutual understand that only true frenemies would be able to understand. Rivalry only went so far, after all.
"I guess this is it," the younger one said.
A nod. "Oui, it is."
The Brit turned and walked away. Before disappearing, he turned around and spoke his last words, his last farewell.
"I never truly hated you."
Then he was gone.
The Frenchman smiled. He turned towards the other two, exchanging nods with the taller one and hugging the shorter, who only saw him as a brother. He then walked away and closed his eyes.
"I never truly hated you either, Angleterre," he whispered as he faded away.
Watching the dandy nation vanish, the remaining two held hands as the ever so faint breeze picked up. Silence hung on by a peaceful string of calmness.
"We're all that's left," the shorter said. The taller nodded.
"Ja."
Hands released as they walked apart, as if they were magnets that had the same charge. Before going out of sight, they turned and waved farewell to each other.
The tall stoic man sighed contentedly. Thoughts about his brother haunted his mind, but he knew he would see him once again soon.
With a last thought of his very first and loyal friend, he dissolved into nothing.
-o-O-o-O-o-
Here I am, the meek yet artistic nation thought. The last one standing of them all. He squeezed his eyes even tighter than usual.
He was going to miss his life on earth, but he knew that it was for the best. His friends were waiting for him, awaiting a new life to be reborn into.
Somehow, his thoughts fluttered to his long-lost love, who had promised to return one day, but never did.
No. The nation shook his head. He did return. He returned as another person. His old self was always there for me in even in the darkest of times.
With a smile of his face, and the emptiness that the disappearance his brother had caused growing even emptier, the last nation opened his eyes. "Farewell, my friends," he said as he began to disappear. "Farewell."
Fine.
AN: This was a story created off of a whim that kept on nagging me to bring up the courage to post as a fanfiction. If there are any errors grammatically or language wise, please feel free to let me know. I'm always open for constrictive criticism, as long as it's said nicely. ~UM