It had been a long time since I uploaded something like this, so here you go.
Among Dust
Oh! Listen to the Earth's heart.
Among the listener's part.
If only the dust could blow away.
Oh, the joyous triumph.
To see the forest's maze.
If only we could see,
before the red faded in our daze.
A rough hand covered in dirt patted itself against its owner's thigh while another hand held an mp3 player that hummed the little song as fire crackled from an illuminated camp fire. The man that hummed in a rough voice to the beat had dirty blond hair with dry sweat accumulating on his forehead. His dull blue eyes had some small hints of joy when hearing the repetitive but happy song playing in his hand, and a small grin tried to form on his face for a few seconds until he stopped trying.
This man sighed as he sat in an uncomfortable position in a safe distance from the crackling fire that lit up the surroundings of the weathered supports from a ruined building. The sky was clouded with grey clouds, but the man could still see the moonlight from the surface of the Earth's moon. The ground he sat on was old and patched, with rocks and debris still filling in, but the blonde didn't care as he tried to gain some warmth from the fire in the cold night.
This man wore a patched and dirty coat that looked worn out with buttons missing and fabric torn, accompanied with black jeans in the same condition with his black sneakers. His glasses had a small crack in the corner of the second lens, but the man's vision was still visible. With the man's eyes weary with bags under it, you could infer that he had a hard time resting throughout all this, which makes sense from his problems after what happened.
This man's name was Alfred F. Jones, but that's just his human name. He's actually called USA, or America for short.
You could probably ask why he's resting against broken bits of wood and glass, resting against a fire in a destroyed city in the middle of the night. To answer your question, it will be that Albert Einstein was right. The next World War will be fought with sticks and stones.
America coughed violently as some smoke from the fire got caught into his respiratory system, and his lungs burned from getting in touch with gas. After America was finished with coughing, he knew that he can't sleep, even if he wanted to from his evidence of insomnia, but he's too paranoid to just lay his fears and worries to sleep; that would be too easy to do.
America was too frightened to go to sleep, his thoughts were running through his mind with a speed of fifty miles per hour from interpreting everything as something that will kill him if he doesn't be careful. The only thing that calmed him for a temporary amount of time was his mp3 player, one that was able to hold onto hundreds of America's favorite songs, which helped with his anxiety throughout his new life. He couldn't relax without the happy or excited voices of singers that sung to their heart's content.
America placed his mp3 player down hesitantly as he stood up with a wince from how he remembered of the wound that was covered up in clothing on his right leg, and how it gave him shots of pain through his nervous system that made him groan, but he was focused to get the black bag next to him that was a few feet away.
America was able to grab onto the bag's straps while ignoring his body screaming to lay down, and returned to his spot with the bag full of ammo and two guns. America opened the bag by its zipper, and looked through his ammo for his MP-2 uzi and AR-15 rifle. He had to make sure that all of his equipment were there, with his rations separated in another bag that had the color of blue. With America palming the guns' triggers and surface in safety as he took out his phone that shown the date, 12:15. America was frustrated that it wasn't morning yet, but he had to be patient.
America returned the guns back into the black bag while feeling defeated but worried. He had to sleep, he knew the cons of being sleep deprived, but his paranoia was still kicking in once or twice every hour when he knew he wasn't safe. He wanted to go back to when the war didn't happen, where he was with his brother, Canada, and just laugh and talk for the rest of their lives. Hell, he even wanted to see Russia and England, just someone to talk to while they trek through desolate wasteland. He hated it. He wanted everything to stop. But he can't.
America was breathing heavily as he immediately took out his rifle and held it against his chest in a sense of protection and sadness, becoming more harder to swallow every second his eyes dashed into the borders of the darkness that the light from the fire didn't touch, and felt worry, fear, sadness, and every negative emotion almost trying to break him as he remembered all of the screams from his citizens, his brother's worried voice being broken off from no more service on the phone, and the extreme worry from one question that was always on his mind after months of fighting through raiders and mutants. Are the others alive?
Is his friend, Japan, alive? Is he also fighting against monsters through the shadows of Tokyo or Kyoto, or is he already dead?
What about England? Is he with a group of survivors, finding a way to get contact through with him, Canada, France, or the others?
Even France? Is he alone with no one else but himself, fighting to the very end with his back sore from too much conflict?
Also Italy, Russia, Germany, China, Prussia, Denmark, and anyone else? Are they alive? Are they dead? Is Italy crying with the dead body of Romano in the broken city of Rome? Is Germany looking frantically for Italy and his brother, Prussia? America doesn't even know anymore.
Is Canada still alive? Is he looking for him? Is he worried? Is he already dead? All of these questions were now the only thoughts running and dampening through America's supposed fate and thoughts.
In the broken ruins of the once-proud capital of the USA with the silent humming of the mp3 coming to a dead end, America started to cry.
I don't know if I should call this 'complete' since I have some ideas on what to do with what happened to the rest of the countries, but I don't know.
