Grace: I wanted to get straight to the point, so here it is. This is my first attempt at trying to write something scary. Please review, because I need to know what part of my writing needs to be improved. I don't own Hetalia.
He looks up, only darkness meets his gaze.
He looks left, a narrow hall extends endlessly.
He looks right, a black door looms in front of him. He tries the knob. It won't turn.
Panicking, he looks behind him. A shadow stands, not three feet away.
And at once he runs. It is instinct; it is survival. Tears stream down his cheeks, and he furiously wipes them away, smudging the blood on his hands and on his cheeks. Visions of his friends fill the field that has appeared in front of him. He stops, his eyes lingering on a man with slicked-back blond hair and lifeless, ice blue eyes. A single tear escapes the dying man's cheek as he slowly meets the gaze of the man above him. It twists into a face of horror, and the blond closes his eyes, cringing instinctively.
A hand startles the man. He tries to turn, but the cold, cold touch of the shadow freezes him to the place he stands. At once he tears away. And runs.
His shoulder is hurting, now. His shoulder is cold and icy and frozen. He rubs it, running past the red doors that appear as he passes him. A word is written on each, written in blood. The man pays no attention—he's seen enough blood as it is, and all he wants is to see someone. Anyone.
Japan...
Romano...
There!
The man bursts in on an empty room, the door slamming shut behind him. Bending over, he pants, the tears sliding down his cheeks and the blood pumping through his veins. At once the door creaks open; he half turns, expecting to see that someone whom he knows has been gone even before they entered this forsaken place.
Anyone... besides the shadow.
At once he is shaking, as the shadow approaches him...
He sits up in bed suddenly, a single word on his lips; the word itself not spoken, but screamed. At once the man beside him awakes as well, somewhat irritated, and yet it quickly dissolves at the sight of the other's forlorn state.He holds him close, burying his head into his shoulder and letting the tears flow freely. Tears of fear, pain, sorrow, longing... and knowing.But everyone is out, everyone is safe. There is nothing to fear, and yet here he is, still plagued by nightmares and his terrible fate of being alone, of having failed once again.The other man holds him just as tightly, keeping himself together as he silently consoles his friend. He remembers the bravery they all recalled from deep within, and how in the face of danger, the man had persisted and kept trying, and eventually succeeded. Such courage and power within someone so close to him, that was what had come out from within that mansion. Before, he might have wanted that, but it hurts him now to see the damage it has done to the man he thought he knew.And as that man finally wipes away his tears and hugs the other close, he offers a cheery smile before hopping out of bed, showing no sign of the scars he has subconsciously uncovered.That man... that man is Italy. The other is Germany. And as they set about their morning duties, neither would ever forget the horrors they faced behind the locked doors of that haunted mansion.