Hello again guys!
I have decided to do another one shot before I sleep! (except this time it wasn't from scratch)
This really short dark story was actually made last year for my practice creative writing in school.
And when I read it, I suddenly realised that this story caters unintentionally to one of many under-appreciated Hetalia characters. Cuba.
This was written BEFORE I've heard about Hetalia. Strange right?
Also this is set in an alternate universe and human names are used.
but anyway here's the story, enjoy!
Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu!
Cuban cigars littered the cold ashen floor. Stale alcohol and tonight's fight still stained the smoky air. Clad in his black leather jacket that had faithfully served him for the last 21 years, he leaned out towards the icy cold night, exhaling remaining Cuban smoke from his bearded face.
New York lights blazed his dead cold eyes, watching its busy nightlife, savouring his last night alive. This was his destined life, he didn't want it, yet it was still his. And not he, with all his determination could do otherwise.
Slipping his hand into his pocket, he withdrew his shard of happiness. Clasped within his bloodied hands, locked in time, he held it. In his mind, it all came to him, the salty scent of the ocean, hot sand tossed, sound of playful laughter of children by the waterside, fighting over the best spot by the beach and her voice. Her sweet melodic voice.
An innocent voice that could soothe tempestuous seas, extinguish fierce fires and command attention from his unworthy heart. She was his and he was hers. The lifestyle they lived was all that he could ever ask for. Such a life, in which he knew, regretfully, could never last.
He still remembered that day. How he found her in the beach looking peacefully asleep in her white dress he had saved so much to buy. How his wet blue tears stream down intermingling with the striking red that stained her dress. And how the love he had lost that day, he replaced it, replaced it with the one thing that he had come to know and bitterly cherished. Revenge.
The door behind him pounded. The chairs and tables stacked against it, vibrated.
'Carlos! Open the door! We know you're in there!'
He glanced at the door before gazing back at his photo. He absorbed the sight of her long black curls and her warm brown eyes.
His beautiful daughter.
'Carlos! Come out we can help you!'
He smirked.
Glancing out as more sirens blazed across the streets of New York, halting in front of his building, he stood away from the window. He casted aside an arm he trotted on. Moving in a dream state, he sat across the man that caused his destiny and its fulfilment.
Carlos watched him thoughtfully. It was strange. Strange that one tragic event could change a man whose heart and mind previously so happy and content to become so twisted and dark. His victim squirmed against tight ropes, eyes pleading with him.
He frown, had it never occurred to him, that he, Carlos would eventually find him? No matter how many times he changed his name or profession to those of more holy pursues? Carlos flipped his pocket knife open.
It didn't matter. He didn't want to forgive. He wanted revenge.
Also like I said when I wrote this the hostage above is none of the Hetalia characters but it's really up to you guys on who that person is.
Random Fun fact: I've never been to Cuba but sounds like an interesting place (so I apologise in advance if I didn't get the location right)
Now I'm going to bed :D
Also if it's too dark for you to enjoy you could always request for a happier one! :D