Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Peripheral
Arthur sighed, turning the page of the book.
He was alone at home, his parents having gone on an overnight trip. There was a storm raging outside, and every now and again Arthur would jump as a bolt of lightning struck too close for comfort.
As he stared at the page in the book, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He instantly turned to see what it was, but all he saw was his bedroom, looking pristine, as usual. Nothing was out of place.
He turned his attention back to the page, but not even halfway through the paragraph his eye caught movement again.
His head snapped to attention, and he scanned with his eyes. He even tried to see if it had simply been a fly that had caused the movement, but he still found nothing.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes. Perhaps he was simply tired and imagined it. Or perhaps he just needed tea.
…
The third time he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, he was brewing tea. His eyes abandoned the teabag soaked in hot water in favour of scanning the kitchen. He shook his head, and as he turned back he thought he saw something else, but when he turned his attention back he saw that nothing was out of order. He could have sworn…
He rubbed his eyes again. For some reason, they kept playing tricks on him.
As he was drinking his tea, he saw the lights flicker as thunder roared particularly loud. If he didn't know any better, he'd think that the lighting struck just outside his house.
But as the lights flickered, he saw something in his peripheral vision again. This time, he was pretty sure that it looked like a face.
Of course, when he turned to see what it was, he saw nothing that remotely looked like a face.
Thunder once again loudly crashed outside, and this time the lights were knocked out, and the Brit swore in the darkness.
He moved to the kitchen drawers, hoping to find the candles and matches, and as lightning flashed, illuminating the kitchen for a brief moment, he once again thought he saw a face in his peripheral vision.
He shook his head, convincing himself that it was just lightning.
The brief illumination had revealed a candle, and he fumbled a little more to find the box of matches. He thought he saw something moving in the darkness, and tried to convince himself otherwise.
He finally found the matches, and breathed a sigh of relief.
As he struck a match, he saw movement in his peripheral vision again. He turned his head, trying to find something. And he gasped when the flame from the match burned his fingers, and he accidentally put out the flame.
He cursed, before he struck another match. This time, when he saw movement in his peripheral vision, he ignored it in favour of lighting the candle.
But the more he ignored it, the clearer the image became, and when the candle was lit he turned to the direction where he saw the movement.
Again, nothing.
He felt really cold, the icy fingers of dread creeping up his back.
…
He refused to go anywhere without the candle, and when he returned to his room, another flash of lightning slightly illuminated the chamber. And once again, he thought he saw a face out of the corner of his eye.
He was starting to get annoyed, and did something different this time.
He turned his head to the opposite direction. But even with his head turned away, he could still see movement out of the corner of his eye.
Finally, he turned his head back to in front of him, and screamed at the sight.
A face was illuminated by the candle. It was bone-white, with its black eyes nothing but bottomless pits. It had a wide smile on his face.
The smile disappeared as it puckered its lips, blowing out the flame as another flash of lightning illuminated its entire body.