"WAIT! Big Brother, wait! Please!" America screamed, tears flying from the child's eyes.
England turned and smiled, "What is it Little America?"
"Please, please read me another fairytale before you leave?"
England chuckled, and kneeled down to look his little brother in the eye, "Listen, we've talked about this before. I will return again before you grow up, and I will read more fairytales to you. There will be plenty of time for that later." England promised, then stood up, turned and left.
He lied though. It was a long time before he returned…and alas, he never returned to the little child that I was.
When he did, I was old enough to read the stories to myself, not that I did it much. I was resent him now…but there will be times when bittersweet nostalgia will lure me into reading those fairytales again…
When I do, when I read it… I can almost hear a soft deep voice in the back of my mind, England's voice. Reading those very same fairytales to me, and every time, I have to close the book and hide myself under the covers of my bed, and cry myself to sleep.
Why did he do that? Why did he never return?
If only for one last fairytale?