Big Brother England
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia; I only own this idea! Please enjoy and I hope this doesn't turn out too depressing!
Sealand loved his big brother very much. It was sort of funny, really; Sealand would always insult and ridicule England, but in actuality, he adored his older sibling.
He could still remember when they were younger and would play together all day, from dawn to dusk. In the summer, they could be seen out on the coast swimming and playing marco polo. In the winter the brothers would make snowmen and have mock wars. Fall was when they would rake leaf piles to jump in or carve faces into pumpkins. Springtime though, their favorite time of the year, was spent in gardens to tend to their plants.
England took care of multiple Rosebushes and other romanticized flora such as that, while Sealand raised many of the more unknown breeds of flowers like his Hyacinths or the Linnea that he had gotten from his papa Sweden and from uncle Norge. And this was something that the duo could do together.
On the first day of spring, Sealand and England would strap on their work boots and slip a pair of gloves over their hands, adjusting their botany aprons before entering the greenhouse in England's backyard. Upon entering, they would be hit by a barrage of scents; some were light and airy, others were strong and heavy. But all were beautiful in their own way.
The two brothers would look at each other and smirk before heading over to their respective half of the room to begin tending to their flowers. This would continue for three hours, when they would meet in the middle, right in front of their shared posy patch. Then, together they would tend to their last plant, before going inside.
It was nice while it lasted, right?
"Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posie, ashes, ashes, we all fall DOWN!" Another tree crashes to the ground.
England is visibly shaking from his hiding place under the back work table. He's praying under his breath that HE might not find him here. Here in this safe haven where everything is safe. Where everything was safe. But not anymore.
"England," the sickly sweet voice called out, "I want to play with you! Where are you?" The Englishman stayed silent, knowing that any sound would seal his fate.
The person, now annoyed by the British man's lack of reaction, began to hack his way through the greenhouse yet again.
"Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden GROW?
With silver BELLS, and COCKLE shells, and pretty MAIDS all in a ROW!" Five more plants fell to the ground as the butchers knife sliced through them all.
Involuntarily, a whimper escaped England's throat. The madman's head whipped around, searching for that small hum of fear, which filled him with adrenaline.
He gripped his handle tighter and swung his blade around. It whacked the rosebush, hacking off a few petals in the process. A low giggle escaped from the boy's mouth.
"Dearest England, where have you gone? I want to play with you forever!" The hidden Brit's emerald orbs widened with fear as he clutched his legs closer to his chest, "you know, it was very rude of you to try and send me away! You of all people should know not to abandon me! But, no worries! I'll change your mind... Easily enough!"
It took all of England's power not to scream right then and there. He had to keep on hiding and hope that HE would just forget, or would not be able to find him. Because without that hope, what did he have?
"Humpty Dumpty sat on a WALL,
Humpty Dumpty had a GREAT fall.
All the king's horses and all the king's men COULDN'T put Humpty TOGETHER again," the knife-wielder sang loudly; too loudly, it resounded off of the walls and surrounded them. The sound was closing in on England, leaving him speechless.
This was no longer pretend. Never more were they the young children they had once been. They could no longer have pretend battles; now, all of their fights were real and scarring. Never again would they rake leaves just so that they could mess them up again by jumping into the piles.
"England," the voice called out, "marco!" Of course, there was no reply. The murderer grinned to himself, pleased with the turn of events. No one would ever degrade him again, if this act was completed. He would be obeyed; worshipped, for this. And it was simple, really.
All of a sudden, all noise stopped. England could only hear the heavy sound of his breathing and the low thump of his heart beating in his ears. Nothing else. There was no longer the presence of another person; HE was finally gone.
England let out a sigh of relief. And then screamed.
HE was still there. HE had found him. HE was smiling down at him, madly, a smile that stretched much farther than it should.
Sealand smirked at his quivering older brother; his dear, sweet England, who would forever be his and no one else's. Not the Canadian's or the American's or especially the Frenchman's. Only his.
Sealand placed a rose in the frozen Englishman's hair, bending down to whisper something; what England had been dreading.
Green eyes widened; red lips parted, "I love you, big brother."
They all fall down.
A/N: Holy... Fudge. That was way creepier than I thought it would be. Oh my... While writing this, I had shivers running down my spine. This was really scary to write. I wanted to add something else, but... It was too scary, even for my terms! And that's saying something, considering that I just made this!
Nursery rhymes are supposed to have a hidden meaning in them.
Ring a round the rosie, or Ring a ring o' rosie, is supposedly about the great plague in the mid-1600's, England.
Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary was written to possibly allude to Mary I of England and her miscarriages and executions.
Humpty Dumpty could possibly depict King Richard III of England being humpbacked and defeated.
This is why no one should let me read creepypastas. The end.
Review for yummy Halloween candy! Yay, a holiday celebrating eating sweets and getting cavities! Like a true American! Virtual candy for all!