New England ☆ America (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
colonial) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-08-12 09:08 pm
colonial) wrote in towerofanimus2013-08-12 09:08 pm
Entry tags:
there was a rich lady lived over the sea, and she was an island queen
Characters: America, open
Setting: mailroom on Monday, meadow on Wednesday, island forest on Friday
Format: action
Summary: America receives a package on Monday, is tormented by shadow children on Wednesday, and dies on Friday. It's a tough week.
Warnings: angst and sad baby warnings, death
A; mailroom - Monday
[America sat on the floor beneath his still open mailbox, a flag spread out over his legs--thirteen red and white stripes and thirteen white stars in a circle in the blue of the upper left-hand corner. The toy soldier--no head, it made him sad to see--is forgotten at his side, because he's reading and reading and rereading--
(IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.
The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America...)
A declaration--he knew, in broad strokes. He had been told, vaguely, what would happen. But to see (That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved) it written out in what appears to be an official document is different, and even though he stumbles over so many of the words and has to take attempts at pronouncing them out loud to even get past them, there's enough that he understands that he's left stunned. Reading again and again and again.
He wanted to know what had happened, he had wanted details. And now he had a list. And what a frightening list! England as America knows him now is a beloved protector, strong enough to do anything. No one can stand up against him and he can defeat anyone who wants to hurt him because he's England and there's no one, no one in the whole world, that America thinks could ever be more powerful than England. And, knowing all that, to see--
(He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.)
(He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.)
(For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:
For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:
For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:)
(He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.
He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.
He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.
He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.)
America never imagined that England's power and strength could be turned against him.
He shivers, curls his flag closer to him like a shield. And oh, this is his that's what that song was. A star-spangled banner, it makes sense now, which means that this is his and his alone, he doesn't share it with anyone, and there's something--something that he likes about that. In the future he's stronger, in the future people care enough about him to write songs for him, to fight for him. But these thoughts are traitorous and he's--he's a colony. He's so small, right now, and this is all so scary, and he doesn't understand these feelings except to know they're bad, they're feelings he shouldn't have, even though--even though he would like so much to be cared for like this, in a way he can't understand because it's too big for him yet. The people England gave him, he loves them so much, and he would like them to love him too. That's not bad, is it?
America bursts into tears and clings to his flag like it could save him on its own. He hardly notices the shadow creatures that shift and crowd around him.]
B; floor 25 - Wednesday
[Now, though--now he notices, because these shadows only tell him terrible things. Even now, having run out to the meadow in the pouring rain and flashing lightning and crashing thunder, he can hear them whispering only to him. He's failed them, he's failed them all, even though they are many in number there are so many more missing, hundreds of millions, all his people who will never be because he's here, because he was saved. They loved him, they loved him, and he abandoned them before they could ever be born.
And he replaced one of them. Replaced England--replaced his England with another England, a different England. Is that one more to your liking? Does that one tell you better stories? Is it easier now knowing that one was already betrayed, knowing you've already hurt that one, that you can't make it worse? Oh, but America, dearest, you're so small, he tells you so little, you've no idea how much worse you'll be able to make it.]
Please--please stop. Please! [America's words are lost in the rain and the wind and his own choked sobs. He covers his ears but it doesn't help. Nothing helps.] I'm so-sorry, I'm sorry!
[You never do learn to think before you act. What a disappointment you'll be. Ask him--even that one knows. That one knows better than I do.]
En--Engwand! Engwand!
[I'm right here--or do you mean that other one? You really have replaced me, haven't you?]
C; floor 32 - Friday
[America is curled up now, under a tree in the middle of the forest, heedless of the rain and lightning. He has none of his strength here, can't feel his nation side at all, but the shadow citizens have followed him even here--are you trying to ignore us, are we not important enough, you say you love us but that's a lie, isn't it, we're like this so you can't have loved us at all--only now he's too exhausted to scream and cry. He shivers against the cold and the rain, but even movement like that seems sluggish. His collar is so light violet it might not be colored at all, but America can't really find any energy to worry about that. He reaches for one of the shadows, tries to hold its hand, but his own just passes through.]
'M sorry... Really.
[He's so exhausted. He doesn't think he'll be able to stay awake much longer.]
Setting: mailroom on Monday, meadow on Wednesday, island forest on Friday
Format: action
Summary: America receives a package on Monday, is tormented by shadow children on Wednesday, and dies on Friday. It's a tough week.
Warnings: angst and sad baby warnings, death
A; mailroom - Monday
[America sat on the floor beneath his still open mailbox, a flag spread out over his legs--thirteen red and white stripes and thirteen white stars in a circle in the blue of the upper left-hand corner. The toy soldier--no head, it made him sad to see--is forgotten at his side, because he's reading and reading and rereading--
(IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.
The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America...)
A declaration--he knew, in broad strokes. He had been told, vaguely, what would happen. But to see (That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved) it written out in what appears to be an official document is different, and even though he stumbles over so many of the words and has to take attempts at pronouncing them out loud to even get past them, there's enough that he understands that he's left stunned. Reading again and again and again.
He wanted to know what had happened, he had wanted details. And now he had a list. And what a frightening list! England as America knows him now is a beloved protector, strong enough to do anything. No one can stand up against him and he can defeat anyone who wants to hurt him because he's England and there's no one, no one in the whole world, that America thinks could ever be more powerful than England. And, knowing all that, to see--
(He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.)
(He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.)
(For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:
For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:
For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:)
(He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.
He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.
He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.
He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.)
America never imagined that England's power and strength could be turned against him.
He shivers, curls his flag closer to him like a shield. And oh, this is his that's what that song was. A star-spangled banner, it makes sense now, which means that this is his and his alone, he doesn't share it with anyone, and there's something--something that he likes about that. In the future he's stronger, in the future people care enough about him to write songs for him, to fight for him. But these thoughts are traitorous and he's--he's a colony. He's so small, right now, and this is all so scary, and he doesn't understand these feelings except to know they're bad, they're feelings he shouldn't have, even though--even though he would like so much to be cared for like this, in a way he can't understand because it's too big for him yet. The people England gave him, he loves them so much, and he would like them to love him too. That's not bad, is it?
America bursts into tears and clings to his flag like it could save him on its own. He hardly notices the shadow creatures that shift and crowd around him.]
B; floor 25 - Wednesday
[Now, though--now he notices, because these shadows only tell him terrible things. Even now, having run out to the meadow in the pouring rain and flashing lightning and crashing thunder, he can hear them whispering only to him. He's failed them, he's failed them all, even though they are many in number there are so many more missing, hundreds of millions, all his people who will never be because he's here, because he was saved. They loved him, they loved him, and he abandoned them before they could ever be born.
And he replaced one of them. Replaced England--replaced his England with another England, a different England. Is that one more to your liking? Does that one tell you better stories? Is it easier now knowing that one was already betrayed, knowing you've already hurt that one, that you can't make it worse? Oh, but America, dearest, you're so small, he tells you so little, you've no idea how much worse you'll be able to make it.]
Please--please stop. Please! [America's words are lost in the rain and the wind and his own choked sobs. He covers his ears but it doesn't help. Nothing helps.] I'm so-sorry, I'm sorry!
[You never do learn to think before you act. What a disappointment you'll be. Ask him--even that one knows. That one knows better than I do.]
En--Engwand! Engwand!
[I'm right here--or do you mean that other one? You really have replaced me, haven't you?]
C; floor 32 - Friday
[America is curled up now, under a tree in the middle of the forest, heedless of the rain and lightning. He has none of his strength here, can't feel his nation side at all, but the shadow citizens have followed him even here--are you trying to ignore us, are we not important enough, you say you love us but that's a lie, isn't it, we're like this so you can't have loved us at all--only now he's too exhausted to scream and cry. He shivers against the cold and the rain, but even movement like that seems sluggish. His collar is so light violet it might not be colored at all, but America can't really find any energy to worry about that. He reaches for one of the shadows, tries to hold its hand, but his own just passes through.]
'M sorry... Really.
[He's so exhausted. He doesn't think he'll be able to stay awake much longer.]
no subject
I see. Must have been something pretty bad then, huh? To make a big kid like you this upset. [He shifts from crouching to sitting down on the floor, legs crossed.] Do you want to talk about it? I know I'm just a stranger but... wait. Actually...
My name is John Egbert. There. Now I am at least 50% less of a stranger than I was before. But either way, I have a pretty good set of ears. [He chuckles.] I can't really say the same for any potential advice I can give but if nothing else, I can listen.