Scarlet Walls | UkUs

Scarlet Walls - 2

A Night in solitude

October 19th, 1914

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   England rummaged through a wooden cabinet with a lack of care for the fragile glasses, allowing most of them to fall and break on the ground. He was hoping it wasn't too late to send the letter he had recently written, as it had been a few months since he wrote anything to the oblivious American nation across the ocean. Not that he intended for such a shortage of communication, he just simply didn't have enough space and time to inform America of the declaration of war.

   Finally, he found the hidden envelope and pulled it out from the unorganized row of empty wine bottles. He was relieved to have found it, knowing that America wouldn't be left in the dark any further. The distressed nation slipped the envelope into his military jacket pocket, closed the cabinet, and sprinted out of the dusty room.

   He swiftly closed the door of the basement and locked it with a rusted key, turning his head towards the sound of someone walking in his direction. A soldier, dressed respectively in his uniform, came to a stop in front of the nation and saluted him. He didn't ask questions at first, only staring blankly at England as he awaited the explanation of his orders.

   England pulled out the envelope and handed it to the soldier, who took it with a puzzled look. The nation sighed and turned his glance to the ground, "I know it's a strange request, but I must ask that you not speak of this task to anyone, do you understand?"

   "Yes sir," the soldier responded, stiffening at the seriousness of the request.

   "Take the letter to the western docks of Belgium and give it to the man offering safe passages to the Americas, his name is Gabriel if you can't recognize him," England explained, returning his gaze to the soldier.

   The soldier nodded in response, placing the envelope safely within his uniform pocket and saluting the nation one last time. England weakly smiled and patted the younger male on his arm, "Godspeed, soldier."

   "Thank you, sir."

   England took a deep breath and adjusted his military coat, rearranging the several medals aligned on his uniform. His mentality was ill-prepared for the war, and it wasn't ready to face the inevitable damage that all wars cause nations. The scars, burns, blemishes, sickness: he didn't want to go through the tortuous process of history and its painful effects on the nations involved.

   He was staying in a small house in Belgium, awaiting what he knew would be the call of defense against Germany's attack. The soldier was gone now, beginning his long and harrowing journey to deliver the letter. England would be lying if he said he was confident that the letter would reach the Americas, let alone see the chaotic docks that Belgium had been attempting to calm. He wasn't quite sure the other letter reached America, and it frightened him to think that the letters could be in the hands of someone whose intentions aren't in favour of secrecy.

   The British nation made his way outside the house and patiently waited for Belgium to meet him with transportation to the western part of the country. Before long, he could hear the rough engine of the car that held a military-dressed Belgium and soldier tasked with her protection. The car parked in front of him and the nation was greeted with a tense feeling in his gut.

   England entered the back of the car with Belgium, who gave him a warm and welcoming smile, but part of him sensed the fear in her bright green eyes. The trip to the western city of Ypres started with silence, but England couldn't blame her for the change in her well-known bubbly personality. He too has been there, unable to speak or express emotion before a major conflict with other nations.