literature

Hold, Release, Rakshasa and...

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Literature Text

Carcasses

Once upon a time, there lived two powerful nations; France and England.

They had a child nation together, named Canada.

But for some reason, Canada could not survive. So he withered away. Everyone was sad, but then a new child nation was born, America, and everyone was happy again. No one spoke of Canada, a mere echo of the past.

Or so one would think.


----------------------

Alfred ran about one night, in the fields behind his house. He was a whopping 10 years old (And entire decade, could you believe it?) and figured it was time to enjoy breaking a few rules, such as 'No leaving the house at night'

It was completely stupid, right?

Alfred giggled, his bare toes meeting the grass beneath him, but stopped as he found himself back at the boarder of the 'no man's land" just to the north of his house. Why was this here, anyway? Why was it off limits and.. why did it seem like he always wanted to be here?

"Monsieur, shall we play?"

Alfred looked around. Who had said that? No one was here but him! He stared ahead into the no-man's land, and watched a figure in his late teens seemingly appear out of nowhere. He had on soft blond hair and a broken form and even a more broken smile, but the rest of his face was covered up by a mask. Around his neck were several red threads, a striking color against his pale neck.

"Mister...?" Alfred asked softly. "Who are you?"

The blond masked mask gestured him closer, across the no-man's land threshold.

"Monsieur, shall we dance?"

Alfred looked down. Before him was the border between his house and no-man's land, but curiosity quickly overpowered his sense of reason. (what little he had at this age.) He stepped past the border and saw the smile widen on the blond man's face. Alfred smiled back. "Mister! What is your name?"

"Matthew." the pale man said. "You're it~!" He turn and ran deeper  into the no-man's land.

Alfred laughed, and ran after him.

Flowers bloom on the ground,
Secretly frowning and smiling.


"I caught you!" the child yelled in joy as he tagged Matthew, seeing as the teen had stopped running.

"Yes." He spoke with a smile, but then pointed over to the field of flowers. "What do you see?"

Alfred studied the bright red quivering flowers only to discover they were not flowers at all. "Butterflies!"

The butterflies all took flight, turning the dark night into a flurry of red. Alfred watched as Matthew put his palm out, only to close and crush the butterfly that had landed there. The younger boy's eyes widened as Matthew held the dead creature to him. Alfred's eyes teared up.

Carp streamers flow from the back,
A skull is to be expected.
Let's hack things around!
Laugh wildly out loud!


"Don't be afraid..." The masked man cooed. He opened Alfred's hand and placed the creature there. It twitched in some vain attempt to revive itself. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Alfred shook his head.

"Try it. It's fun." Matthew brushed the butterfly away, then unwrapped some of the thread around his neck and wrapped it about Alfred's "So I will not lose you." He explained.

Hold, release;

Rakshasa and Carcasses.

One, two, three, release again,

Five, six, seven, hands up


Alfred hesitantly reached up, and grabbed a butterfly between his hands. It fluttered frantically, and he almost let go, but with a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he squeezed tight...

and killed it.

A pine tree with a collar is just a swinging-ing
Let let let us grab and hold on tight


America remained unaware of the two weeks that he spent with Matthew. Francis had found him, and was upset that he had passed into the no-man's land. Alfred looked at him with deadened eyes, then back at his friend, who Francis had not noticed.

The masked man smiled and waved goodbye, although he had one hand on the growing thread that surrounded both of his and Alfred's necks; something also unnoticed. Alfred, ignoring the scolding, waved. Francis turned around, but saw no one.

"Dead men tell no tales..."

Matthew had muttered this to Alfred one night. He didn't know what his friend meant, and spent all day in his room, wondering about it.

Francis and Arthur watched the emotional decline of their son, and frankly forbid him from leaving the house unless someone was watching him closely. Obviously no-man's land had a negative effect on him.

He spent everyday, hiding in his room, face hidden between his chest and knees, a tight hug around his own legs. He would only feel better when he felt a light tug on the string. It meant his friend was still out there.

Let's get into mischief!
Just hop around and dance!


Dead men... tell no tales. They don't tell anyone anything. It seemed to make sense. His friend was calling him to play, but his parents were interfering.

But if they were dead....

Alfred curtly got up, his lifeless blue eyes wandering as he wondered into the kitchen. He grabbed one of Papa Francis kitchen knives and ran back into his room, slamming the door and jumping into the bed. This attracted attention, and soon, the French himself peeked into the room.

"Alfred? are you okay?"

Alfred said nothing.

You'd think it was none of your business!

You'd think it was none of your business!

You'd think it was none of your business!


He drew close to kiss Alfred on the head, but his expression soon twisted in pain. Francis stumbled back, knife plunged deep into his stomach. "Wh... Why..." He murmurer before dropping to the floor.

You'd think it was none of your business!

You'd think it was none of your business!

You'd think it was none of your business!


"Francis?" Arthur heard weird noises from Alfred's room. He turned on the light to find France in his own puddle of blood, Alfred missing. He covered his mouth, horrified, but then turned around to see his own son with the bloodied knife. "Alfred..." He said shakily. "Don't... DON'T!"

Alfred brought the knife down without hesitation. Dead men didn't tell tales.

"What's the big deal with caring for others?

Let's have a baby together!

Just mix things up and down!

A, B, C, D, Enchanting!"


Matthew sang to himself, watching the situation unravel around him. They didn't deserve to live, after all. They had let him die. Thought nothing of him, but tried their hardest to take care of Alfred. They had favorites before Alfred was born. How selfish. To them, Matthew must have been nothing but a mistake.

Rakshasa and carcasses.
One, two, three, release again!
Five, six, seven, hands up!


Alfred stared up at the red moon,then back at his red hands, and now red-parents. He liked the color red, it reminded him of the night he and Matthew met. He could almost see his Friend in that red moon. Alfred stumbled out to the second story balcony. He could see him. Matthew was waiting for him on the moon. The child climbed the balcony, reaching out to the moon. Then, he took a step forward.

Before the birds cry, cook from the abdomen!
One, two, three see you later!


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A good price is shown for pretty flowers;
One by one, the cuties were invaded.
The filthy 'fake' was left behind.
No one cares when he weeps


Jamaica was no older than 12 when Spain abandoned him to face the same English fleet that the Spanish had defended Hispaniola from only hours earlier. Reggie cried, feeling useless. He was a worthless island, not worth protecting.


"Monsieur, shall we play......?"
Based on the song "Hold, Release, Rakshasa, and Carcasses"

Particularly this Video: [link]
Characters

Alfred/America
Arthur/England
Francis/France
Matthew/Canada
(OC: Reggie/Jamaica)

Heeeeee, Happy Halloween

I know, some of the lines are missing, the Reggie part is out of the order with the song, and creates some sort of time paradox, but whooooo caaaaaares, it's my story <3

P.S.: Stupid character limit title lD


Originally Posted: October 20th, 2010
© 2011 - 2024 Maple-Secrets
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akatsukibunnyX3's avatar
Oh wow! This was awesome! Loved it!