Title: Midnight
Description: A young man is running from many things: his past, future, his fate...
Rating: T, for character death and because I felt like it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or Arthur Kirkland (Oh, how I wish I did ;D)
A/N: This is just something I decided to type up on my phone one day. Then I decided to post it. Enjoy!
A young man ran through a graveyard in the middle of the night. The cold November air bit at his skin and sent shivers up and down his spine. His messy blonde hair flew in every direction and framed his face halfheartedly. Emerald green eyes scanned his surroundings, a solemn expression shinning in the bright green orbs. Shadows licked at his heels as he ran. The tree branches reached out to grab him, reminding him of the hands of the dead. Wind called out to him, whispering desperate cries for help. Moonlight shone down on the path, giving him the slightest sense of direction. He dodged gravestone as he rushed by. Names and dates were engraved in the cold marble and stone. A few had flowers decorating them, but most remained unvisited, untouched, just as they had for decades. No one came to this cemetary anymore. This young man could hear many sounds in the night. Owls flew overhead, searching for a late night meal of small rodents. The rustle of nocturnal creatures scurrying across the grass made itself known. However, the loudest noises in the night were both coming from the man: his heavy breathing and the patter of his sneakers hitting the cement as he ran. His pulse was beating hard underneath his soft skin, a reminder of how hard he was pushing himself. No escape route was visible yet, but he would have to come across something soon. Right? Deep down, a part of him knew that escape was very unlikely. Yet, he continued running, trying to buy himself more time. Oh, how little time he had left. Taking a quick glance behind him, the young man saw nothing. A brief flood of relief hit him before he tripped over a crack in the pavement and fell to the cold ground. His head was throbbing heavily and when he brought his hand away from his forehead, he noticed that it was covered in dark crimson blood. The warm, sticky substance was dripping down his face and making a small, dark pool on the ground underneath him. He could feel the sting from where rocks had cut into his flesh. He knew his end had finally come and made no effort to get back up. Instead, he remained on the ground as his vision went blurry and he saw black slowly spread across the world around him. He embraced the strange feeling of death in silence.
Thanks for reading! I would really love to know what you all thought about this story. I really loved writing it... This type of story is what happens when I just write what I feel randomly. Brilliant, eh? Love you all! =^.^=