They say time is of the essence and I don't know who this 'they' is but every word they say seems to hold some truth. Especially in those five words. When I asked England when they were leaving he had said four days. I always thought that 24 hours a day was too many but now I see it isn't enough.
Arthur had bought the thirteen colonies (save Maine.) back along with a few others so I decided to talk to them first. I had spoken to Massachusetts and Virginia the previous day so I chose to pop in on South Carolina, seeing as we had such an interesting past. I left the ''man cave," which is where I slept in last night; and walked down to the very end of the hall.
There was three doors down here and I chose the one that was to my right. Dread slowly crept into my body as I stood just outside the door of hell. Figuratively, might I add. I suppose that I was aware of the difficulty South Carolina and Texas would prove to be seeing as both were quite rebellious and it could have been possible for both of them to avoid the present situation if the past had been different. Although, the present situation itself could have been avoided had the past been different.
"Well, here goes nothing." I stated aloud with lackluster determination. To my surprise Allison wasn't in her room. It didn't look like she had even been in her room for days; dust had begun to collect on some of the objects in her room. South Carolina was always a bit eccentric and had a plethora of baubles and knick-knack's scattered about.
Her room was painted a pale blue with antique white furniture spread across the room. There was a window seat off to right side of her room sat unoccupied as did her bed but upon closer inspection I found a folded piece of stationary sitting amongst the pillows on the window seat. At first I shoved it to the back of my mind thinking nothing of it but with every step I took the more prominent the presence of the letter seemed to be.
Finally my sense of curiosity outweighed my desire to pilfer through the antiques that made up most of South Carolinas room; each one a raconteur, begging for you to listen to its story. I sat down on the window seat causing a few dust bunnies to take flight. The paper felt good in my hands and for a moment I imagined it was one of many documents that my boss needed me to authorize. My light and airy wishes soon turned to a nightmare as the parchment became a notification of dissolution. I shook my head trying to get rid of the thought.
Dear Dad,
My name was Allison. In my life I was three different people; The Province of South Carolina, South Carolina the 8th state to be admitted to the union and South Carolina of the Confederate States of America. I was always very independent like my brother Texas. I could take care of myself and my sister when she needed me and even when she didn't. When I was a little girl I was under England's rule and suffered neglect so I was split in two pieces, pieces that I had no recollection of. Everything went dark and when I awoke it felt like I was missing something and after the pain subsided I realized that feeling remained so I set out to search for my missing piece. I found you and you helped fix the hole that had been created halfway and when I was beginning to lose hope you taught me that 'Dum spiro spero'; while I breathe, I hope. I believed that to. After you came into my life and changed my world so drastically I began to concern myself less with the whims of my soul but all it did was quell my heart temporarily. Not much time had passed when you brought Jennifer home. I realized the moment you introduced us that she was the person I had been looking for. It took us half the night but after putting all the pieces together we realized we were twins separated at birth. We never would have found each other if it weren't for you so thank you daddy. Thank you for helping me grow and figure out just who I was. Thank you for helping me find my sister. As I sit here writing this I can feel me approaching death. I won't be gone for long. It'll be similar to an extended nap. This always has been how I function; I change my name, I change me. You know how they say that people with amnesia have that because they are blocking out memories of things that have hurt them? That is like what happens to me. It's partially voluntary. I wouldn't let it happen if it wasn't for the better, for life to be easier. I'm probably the only one like this but maybe not. That doesn't matter though; it's irrelevant to the purpose of this letter. I am changing already, even now as I write this I'm barely the State of South Carolina anymore. Heck, I'm barely Allison anymore. I think I am the British Province of Southern Carolina now. I'm never going to forget anything, if I want to remember it I can at anytime. Daddy I hope you're not upset about what I do… if I were you I probably would be but try to understand please. It's easier this way. Know that I'm never going to forget you or the great nation we all had formed. Thank you, for more than a life time of memories,
-Allison
Dejected, I sat down on the floor with my knees tucked up to my chin. And I thought things couldn't get worse. Who was I kidding! Apparently losing your country is not rock bottom, fate has more surprises for me; like the fact that next time I see my daughter she will not remember who I am.
I must have fallen asleep while I was in Allison's room because next thing I know it's dark outside and I am sprawled out on the floor like a drunk who fell off their bar stool. A three quarters waxing moon shone through the window silhouetting a few geometric patterns on the wall.
I slowly got to my feet after the drowsiness left my body, permitting me to stand without tripping. My eyes scanned the darkened room for any signs of life besides myself and I found only remnants of two others. In a corner near a window was a smallish Victorian style antique bird cage. A dainty perch wobbled slightly with the draft yet the cage was otherwise empty. I jumped as a bird chirped airily outside the window despite it being the middle of the night. I walked over to it and peered outside just to make sure no one was there besides myself and the plethora of inanimate objects that seemed to manifest in the shadows.
I glanced over at the bird cage and found the door was in fact, open. A single white feather lay at the bottom of the cage, its pure white plumage a symbol of peace. In this otherwise, chaotic world of darkness. My hands moved on their own accord, reaching into the cage to grab the feather, my finger encircled the soft, downy feather.
The next thing to move was my feet, which took my deftly out the door and to my room. I sunk to my knees in front of my dresser and blindly groped about for a large cigar box that I kept important keepsakes in. I finally made contact with the smooth glossy wood and slid it out. The little gold clasp flipped easily and I placed the feather in the box to remain silently until it wasted away into nothing.
The two ton suitcase of stress that had been weighing on me the past several days finally lifted slightly. For first time in the past two years the sight of my mattress looked almost appealing. I still had much more to say but for now I was going to sleep while I could.