Independence
America shivered in his military uniform, rain poured from the sky endlessly, and it froze the nation to the bone, but he dispelled the bitter cold and thought only of the war that he was currently participating in. He was fighting against his caretaker, England, because he wanted to become a country of his own. America had bigger dreams of heroism that he couldn't accomplish while being England's colony. It was not that he did not appreciate England's guidance during the early years of his life, it was just that he was tired of England's large taxes, and his commanding government, and the way England made all of the important decisions for him. He wanted to make those decisions for himself! That's as why he was fighting the man he looked up to all of his life. His army was beating England's by a lot, and victory was almost certain. He grinned to himself in satisfaction, because he knew that he would soon be free! Deciding to break off from England and become independent was not an easy decision, but America wished for freedom. Both he and his people were like a bird, cage it and it becomes miserable. To make a bird happy you must let it be free and fly. A bird... America thought to himself, that represents me well...
"Sir," One of his commanders said gruffly,saluting him, and jolting him out of his thoughts, "We have brought forth the enemy." America winced, knowing full well that the enemy was England. He saluted the commander back.
"Yes commander." America responded worriedly, pondering all of the things that could go wrong.
Two American soldiers dragged a defeated looking England over. They quickly saluted and left as America dismissed them with a hand gesture. America leaned over the figure, then suddenly, he raised his head and glared at America. America stepped back, shocked at the hatred, and anger in the other mans eyes. England grasped his weapon and charged at the American in a fury. America held his rifle out to protect himself, and the sharp blade of England's weapon scraped a jagged scratch into the handle. England then flicked his wrist, and America's bayonet was vaulted across the barren field. England had his weapon aimed directly at his former colony, obviously considering shooting him fir his defiance. For a split second, they both stared at each other, England angrily and America in confusion, as the rain poured down and blurred their vision. The angry Brit suddenly dropped his bayonet and fell to his knees, body shaking in sobs.
"I can't shoot you..." He cried sullenly, "I don't know why I ever thought I could!" The man's blond hair was tousled even more then usual, and rain streaked his pale skin. America looked to him and thought of a time when England would kindly hold his hand out to America, saying how it was time to go home, and then he would enthusiastically agree. He remembered how he used to be so excited when England used to visit him. That all ended now. America looked at the man in pity, his former caretaker who had always been there for him, was reduced to this. America sighed and spoke softly,
"England, you used to be so great..." He then turned and walked away, leaving the other nation weeping in the battlefield alone.