To commemorate today, December 6, I have written a little something. (Yes, I know I should be writing other things... shhhhhh)
Thursday, December 6, 1917. 9:03AM
The fear hit him first, paralyzing his lungs and limbs, his body frozen in the trench mud. He could feel the curiousity that brimmed from his own people, and the terror from the foreign sailors as they struggled to get away. It overwhelmed him, pulling his mind back home. He knew something bad was going to happen, but he could never have prepared for it when it did.
(*)(*)(*)
Thursday, December 6, 1917. 9:04 AM
Pain hit, absorbing his body as it tore through nerve endings. His brain screamed at him while his heart tore to millions of little pieces that vanished along with the lives of his civilians. His right leg crumbled out from under him, just as Nova Scotia buckled in agony thousands of kilometres away, both covered in burns that blistered and peels back layers of skin to expose the muscles beneath.
He never heard the soldiers around him shouting his name, or felt the arms that wrapped around him to keep him from drowning in the muck.
(*)(*)(*)
Friday, December 7, 1917. 12:05AM
He felt the cold next, the feeling creeping through his body, spreading from the limb that still felt like it was burning. His body shook, barely able to stand the vast amount of pain that held him hostage even with the morphine. The only blessing was the numbness that the cold brought. It stretched out its arms for him, drawing him in with whispered promises of respite. A part of him balked, knowing something was wrong, but he was desperate to escape. His body shivered and his teeth chattered, lips going blue while his extremities darkened with frostbite but he never thought once of calling for someone.
He never knew that two nations almost tore down the hospital in fury when they found him alone, barely breathing, and forgotten amidst the sea of beds.
(*)(*)(*)
December 18, 1917. 4:17PM
"Matt? Mattie? You awake?" He knew that voice, even if he had never heard it laced with so much fear and concern. It was thicker than he remembered too; he hadn't heard it sound like that since 1814.
"What's wrong, Alfie? Heroes don't cry." He managed to choke out, his tongue feeling thicker than usual while his brain struggled to put the words together. All he could focus on was the pain and the growing chill.
Alfred's face came into view, the blue eyes clouded and swollen, though whether it was from crying or lack of sleep Matthew had no idea. Warm fingers pressed gently against his cheeks, cupping them while his brother pressed their foreheads together.
"We have you on as many painkillers as we can," the southern nation spoke at last, "The doctors wanted to amputate your leg but Newfoundland came in and told them off. I've never seen a more manly guy in a skirt."
Matthew gave a weak laugh, pretending not to notice how the other's voice had caught at the end,
"It's a kilt. How is he?" then his face blanched and he struggled to get up, "Nova Scotia! Where- Is she okay? What happened? I have to get back!"
Gentle but firm hands pushed him back into the cot, and Alfred drew back enough so that their eyes could meet,
"Last I heard she was recovering. One of your other provinces is helping her out, so you need to rest."
Lips pressed against his lightly when Alfred finished talking while the warmth from the other's hands held the cold at bay. His eyes slid shut as he sighed into the kiss, opening them again only when Alfred backed away. Unspoken words passed between them as the States tucked the blanket around him, and when his eyes finally closed for the second time it was in a surrender to exhaustion.
History Notes: At 8:40 in the morning, the SS Mont-Blanc collided with the unloaded Norwegian ship Imo. Mont-Blanc caught fire ten minutes after the collision and exploded about twenty-five minutes later (at 9:04:35 AM).All buildings and structures covering nearly 2 square kilometres (500 acres) along the adjacent shore were obliterated, including those in the neighbouring communities. The explosion caused a tsunami in the harbour and a pressure wave of air that snapped trees, bent iron rails, demolished buildings, grounded vessels, and carried fragments of the Mont-Blanc for kilometres.
Newfoundland is in here because of the epic Ladies from Hell.