literature

Black Death (Prologue)

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Literature Text

Italy sits in the now almost empty conference room. One by one, they've all stopped coming. Communications between them have practically ceased. The world seems like it's slowly coming to an end. At least, the younger nations think that. Despite being rather innocent, Feliciano is well aware of what has taken over the world. He has lived through it before.

He looks forlornly at Germany's empty chair. The commanding nation was one of the first to drop out. He didn't want to, but those were the orders given by his boss. Germany became isolationist, embargoing everyone and ceasing all international trade and immigration. No one gets in his borders, and no one gets out.

Japan soon followed, falling back into his ways before the wars. Italy suspects that Japan might not be seen again for a long while, even after this passes. He wonders if he'll return the same.

China left for a different reason. It started where it started before. His dense, large population proved ideal breeding grounds for the nightmare that that slowly engulfing the world: The Second Black Death.

Other nations had caught it and tried to hide it. They were found out soon enough. All trade to those countries stopped as soon as the news broke. The Asian countries either have it or are closed off to prevent getting it. Either way, the whole continent is missing. Even Russia, thought to be the strongest by many, had succumbed to the Plague. Italy hasn't seen him in months.

Europe seemed to be doing fairly well off. Only a few reported cases, and only mild ones. No country has caught it, only scattered civilians... so far. But Italy knows better. Once it starts, it doesn't stop. He remembers the streets lined with beggars, widows, orphaned children. The scent of death and blood filled the air even in his most beautiful cities. He knew it would only be a matter of time until it came to him as well.

A handful of countries remained: Spain, England, France, Canada, and America. All the rest had been quarantined, by force or choice. Spain's green eyes, which had once sparkled playfully, now stared blankly at the wooden table before him, unfocused. England and France had stopped their endless bickering, choosing instead to spend these last moments in relative peace. For a moment, one's eyes would like up with some kind of insult or petty remark to throw, but one look quickly reveals that such a comment would bring no reaction. Canada and America seem to be the only one's not affected by the mood. They sit in the corner, talking as normal countries would. Except, America never notices Canada, and Matthew doesn't talk that often.

Somehow, the collection of all this boils down to one thought. A thought that grows louder and more frustrated in his mind, eating away at him. He looks around at the others, hoping that one of them will say something, anything, to break the silence. None of them do. "Is this how it's going to end?" Italy asks.

Spain looks up at him, as if for the first time noticing that he's there. "What do you mean?"

Italy  meets his eyes, then each country in turn, as it seems something has finally brought them out of their trance. "I mean... are we just going to sit back and let this happen? Do nothing? Say nothing?"

England sighs. "Veneziano, you know as well as I, perhaps better, what's going to happen. We've lived it."

France nods. "It's the same zing zat 'appened all zose years ago. Populations are large, medicine is powerless."

From the back, Canada speaks up. "Even if we could find a cure, it changes every time it reaches a new continent. It's like a new disease. The only way to not die of it... is to not catch it."

"Yeah... about that..." America starts. "Mattie and I have been talking it over and... we're leaving. We're on our own continent. Our navies are powerful enough to prevent the spread to North and South America." He gets up, slinging his jacket over his shoulder as he walks out, Canada in tow. "Sorry, dudes. Hero's not gonna die."

Italy watches sadly as the brother's leave, but he understands. How many more will leave? How many more will fall? He sighs and waits in silence a little longer, nothing else really to say. "I guess, meeting's adjourned. I'll see you next week."

The Europeans mutter in agreement and leave, one by one.

Italy closes his eyes, hiding his face in his hands. "If any are still left standing."
This is really dark compared to my normal stuff. Sorry! I just wanted to try my hand at darkness writing. I'm new to this so if you have any advice or comments, please feel free to tell me. :D
Pic by :iconxhetalianpolarbearx:
Hetalia by Hidekaz Himaruya
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SweetAppleVinegar's avatar
Wow, really interesting. I wonder in what direction this story will go; I guess I can only find out if I come along for the ride :)