Prompt 4: Release
Word Count: 186
Prussia had a cyanide pill.
He had dozens. Tens of thousands of them.
His eyes full of angst and impatience as he swallowed one after the other.
The more he took of the pills, the faster his death would arrive.
And he couldn't wait.
He smiled a smile that didn't seem like a smile.
Smirking as if he had finally received what he had longed for.
As the God-forsaken war drew to a close, he swallowed it all, downing them like he did with beer.
The pills didn't kill him.
The bullet of a country he had once known as a comrade did.
Eyes red as the blood that stained his uniform, his hair white as the snow he lay on.
Still holding that narcissistic sneer on his face.
Yet peaceful.
He was released. Released from the great burden laid upon his shoulders.
The great empire that was once him was dead.
And he was happy.
Boy, am I lame at writing something deep. I know little about Prussia's death because researching it would make me cry :D
