Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters; those belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. All credit to creepypastas has been given to their respective owners.

By the time Egypt finished, several nations were huddled together nowhere near him. "Why is it always the quiet ones with the scariest stories?" shivered a now crept-out Spain.

"Congratulations Egypt- you managed to make half the countries here cry," Seychelles teased.

"I wasn't crying, aru," mumbled China.

"Okay, I'll admit that was a little spooky," Switzerland said, only ever put on edge by the tale, "But in a way I saw what happened coming. At least he managed to survive the longest out of his village because he knew not to get involved with things."

"I didn't see that ending coming at all," Finland wasn't ashamed to admit, "But then, that's what makes it scary I suppose. If we could see the outcome, it wouldn't be as frightening."

"Yes," agreed Canada; America leaped. His brother glowered at him. "You came sitting next to me, remember? How are you surprised by me being here?"

"I-I'm not s-s-surprised," squeaked America, "I j-just…forgot…you w-were here."

"How?"

"I…I don't know. J-just don't leave me, okay?" And he clung himself back onto his twin's arm. Canada sighed loudly.

"You know, it's not fun being ignored by everyone. I'm sure if you experienced what it was like for nobody to see you, you'd be a little more empathetic…"

Don't Ignore Me!

Based off of "String Theory"
Credited to: Tesla

You'd think I'd be the last person in the world to be telling you this considering how often people ignore me. But aren't there times when it feels like you can just make out something moving in the corner of your vision, but when you turn there's nothing there? Or when things happen that you wonder should be happening at all? What do you usually do? Me? I tend to ignore it; after all, it's normally some trick of the light or false memory that's causing the disconcertment.

But what if something you could no longer pass off as being "some trick" happened?

It was a Monday morning at the Academy like any other. I woke up, took a shower, got dressed, ate breakfast, was mistaken for a ghost by my brother and roommate, brushed my teeth, and went to class like I always did. An average day; I really wasn't even looking forward to anything exciting happening. But—and to this day I still have no idea why or how—an idea came to me. I figured why not take the path through the back gardens to get to class. I've always taken the inside route, so I've never seen any of the flowers outside up close; and the trip would be a nice respite from the norm. I went down the oh-so-familiar hallway leading to the classrooms, but when I came to the intersection that split between the hallway and going outside, I made the sharp right.

The moment I stepped on the grass a coldness jolted straight down my spine. Involuntarily I shivered. That was weird. And it was the spring semester, so I couldn't write it off as a chilly breeze. Maybe I was coming down with the flu? Not wanting to be late but still be able to look at the flowers, I briskly walked through the garden. The plants sure were beautiful; I wondered why it never crossed my mind to come here before.

I looked at my watch. I was running late. "Maple! I need to hurry!" I rush to the other end of the garden and walk back into the building. If I wasn't running behind schedule I would have paused to take in the sight before me.

Strings. Everywhere! Hundreds of thin, red lines of thread zigzagged and crisscrossed across the hall; attached to pins nailed into lockers, bulletins, even scattered papers and dropped pens littering the corridor. This had to be some sort of prank I hadn't been informed was being pulled today. No matter. I carefully made my way over and under the threads, careful not to disturb any of them. As I raced to beat the bell to class, I got a look at some of the passersby. They too were tangled in a mass of strings, connected to nearly everything else in the corridor. The ropes lengthened or shortened as they continued down the path the strings provided.

It's at this point I felt left out being the only one without any strings. I shouldn't have felt as disappointed about it considering how often I'm normally left out, but on that day I did.

I reached classroom just too late. The bell had rung, and I made it just in time for the teacher slam the door on me. Rude to say the least. I quietly opened the door. "Um, sorry I'm late, professor. But you didn't need to shut the door on me while I was right there."

The teacher ignored me. He continued to scribble on the clipboard that was tied to his hands. Not sure how to take that response as I sat down. Now I was beginning to get unnerved. None of the other students even acknowledged my tardiness. Heck, even my brother didn't look up from his horrible doodling to greet me as I sat down beside him. Nope- his attention—and hands—were tied to that piece of paper.

"Okay guys, this isn't funny," I whisper just loud enough for those around me to hear me. No one reacted. I punched my brother on the arm. "Quit it!" He didn't so much as flinch as he passed the picture to one of the Vargas brothers. He frowned slightly before telling my brother that there was potential in his drawing.

I was on the verge of freaking out. What in the world was going on? Why was everyone ignoring me more than usual today? I turned to my other friend. "Gilbert, you can see me, right?" But he was too busy twirling the pencil in his hand, entertaining his bird, to so much as spare me a response. I'm not one to normally retaliate when angry, but growing ever impatient with frankly the whole school, I snapped the string connecting Gilbert to the pencil. He immediately dropped it as if suddenly uninterested in it. "Umm…?" I picked up the pencil and waved it in front of his face. No reaction, just kept looking right past it.

"If that's how things are going to be then-" I grabbed all of the strings connecting to Gilbert (and his little pet bird which the teachers, for whatever reason, allowed him to keep) and pulled them, snapping them off of the two. He blinked and then turned to me.

"Holy crap, Williams, when did you get here? The awesome me didn't even see you come in."

"I've been here for several minutes now," at last relieved someone noticed me. I was going to question him about the huge joke everyone was in on except I realized the tone of voice Gilbert used was one of complete surprise. He really hadn't seen me.

"Where the heck did all these strings come from?" So this wasn't a joke; Gilbert was just as confused as I was. He abruptly stood up, an action that should have attracted every single person's attention. "Yo! Teacher? What's up with the strings?" But the professor continued writing the day's lesson on the board. "What in the world is going on?"

"I don't know. I've been ignored practically all morning."

"Well I can't take this. I'm ditching."

"Wait- what?"

"You heard me." And with that he maneuvered his way past the threads and walked out the door. With nothing better to do I followed.

We walked down the corridors, peeking into and sometimes entering the other classrooms. No one ever looked up at us. Whenever we broke one of the threads, it was suddenly as if the item no longer attached mattered anymore. For all intents and purposes it didn't exist.

Gilbert got the brazen idea to walk to the nearby town. Just like at the Academy, here too strings looped and twirled and clung to objects. Twice as many here than back on campus. We were very careful not to disturb any of the strings out of fear there would be mass panic if people suddenly "came to" like Gilbert had or worse.

We went to a nearby shop to rest. Inside, Gilbert grabbed two sandwiches and drinks from the freezer. I was opposed to it, chiding my friend for stealing, but he said it wasn't stealing if they didn't care. We ate quietly, observing the people who walked into the shop. It took us a few minutes to realize that each of the threads had a "path" that we were beginning to understand.

"Look there. That guy is going to order a plain turkey sandwich," Gilbert pointed to the man just walking up to the counter. Just as Gilbert said, the stranger ordered the said food. "He's going to pay for it then leave, nearly dropping his wallet on the way out." Step by step, the man did exactly everything my friend predicted.

I was starting to feel uneasy again as the implications of what we just witnessed began to dawn on me. "Let's go back. I don't feel very well."

We took the long way to school through the forest. Luckily, there weren't nearly as many strings here than in the town. But I guess Gilbert liked messing with the Threads of Fate because he kept plucking a few. Thankfully, the strings he did break were only connecting various plants and not any animals or people. "Please stop that, Gilbert."

"But it's fun," he laughed, plucking one more, "You need to loosen up a bit, like Gilbird here. I'm sure this can't be all ba-" We froze when we heard rustling coming from behind us. We twirled around and gaped.

A tiny white creature, maybe an albino raccoon dog or a bear cub standing on two, was deftly tying back together all the strings Gilbert broke. It wore a small pouch hanging from its side, a trail of red string and nails sticking out. It paused in its work and looked up at us with small brown eyes.

I think all three of us were surprised because none of us moved. Finally, I mustered up my courage and took a step forward. "Hi there, little fella."

It tilted its head to the side. "Who are you?" I told him my name. The creature seemed to shrug before going back to work.

"Why are you tying back all the string?" I asked him.

"It's my job."

"But why?"

"Because."

"Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine. You shouldn't be here."

"I know, but my friend really wanted to skip class and-"

"No, you shouldn't be here." I stared at the creature, confusion and worry etched on my face.

"What do you mean?"

"You should be tied down, not free wandering the woods." I didn't like the way that sounded. The discomfort inside me grew.

"H-hey, let's go back, Williams," Gilbert grabbed my wrist and started pulling back to campus. We reached the grounds without further delay. Gilbert insisted we spend the rest of the day in his dorm. I made us some pancakes to calm ourselves, though even the extra layer of syrup didn't sooth my jittery nerves. We waited in his room for several hours, occasionally voicing our concern regarding what would happen if no one ever noticed us again. We didn't stay on those conversations very long, though.

"Well, I'm going to bed," Gilbert said as the sun finally began to set, "You can sleep on the futon Honda gave my Bruder."

"Will that be alright?"

"Ja. He rarely uses it anyways. Well, 'night." And he was under not long after. I got myself comfortable on the mat. Right before I was fully asleep, though, I felt like I could almost hear the soft footsteps of tiny paws.

Tuesday morning rolled around, and I would have ticked off everything that happened as a bad dream if it weren't for the fact I was awoken to Gilbert's brother coming in saying, "Wha- Williams? When did you get here?"

"You can see me?" were the first words I uttered as soon as I got up.

"Ja, I tend to notice people who are in my room without permission." Fortunately, Gilbert was able to vouch for me, and the two of us ate breakfast in his room.

"Hey, you don't look so good. You okay?" I hadn't eaten much of the food Gilbert made. I turned to him and smiled, telling him yes- I was fine and he shouldn't worry.

But truthfully I was terrified. I could no longer see any of the strings. And I was beginning to wonder whether my actions were really my own anymore.