Australia 1.
anonymous
November 20 2011, 00:24:39 UTC
Australia
The first thing New South Wales remembered was lying in grass, looking at the bright blue sky. This was before he knew his name was New South Wales, of course. There was a cute, fluffy, gray animal sleeping beside him and he named her Koala, but it didn’t occur to him to give himself a name. He lied down in the grass and watched clouds for a long time, but then he got hungry. He cried a little, but he was still hungry and no one came, so he wiped his tears with the back of his hand, took his Koala in his arms and went to look for someone who would feed him.
He found many people, all carrying things and looking very busy. No one looked at him and no one felt right to him so he walked more until his feet begun to hurt. His eyes were all teary again and the tears were just about to fall again when he saw a man in red coat. The man wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short either. The man had light brown hair and really nice voice and so he walked towards the man. People almost kicked him, collided with him or hit him with something several times - why was everyone so big here? - but he didn’t stop. The man didn’t notice him at first; he was speaking with another man in red coat, a gray-haired one who smelled funny. So New South Wales set Koala down and hugged his legs. It made his chest feel nice and warm.
The man let out a startled sound and looked down. His eyes were even greener than grass.
“I’m hungry. I like you a lot.” Those were New South Wales’ first words.
He was given porridge and fish and bread and it tasted really good. He learned the man’s name was England and he was an Empire. New South Wales was a colony; he wasn’t really too sure what colony was, but he hoped it was a good thing so England would like him. England had a brother whose name was Wales and who looked like England except his hair was more orange, like desert dust. Wales laughed a lot and he gave New South Wales many clothes that were blue and red and green and yellow and really very pretty, but he wasn’t England. New South Wales told them he liked England the best and that he wanted to live with him forever, but that made England look blustery and run out of the room.
“Tai anythen yaouw said, honeycrumb. Someone named America bost his heart a lickle while ago so he's touchy roight noo,” Wales said and ruffled his hair. Now New South Wales was beginning to feel blustery, like clouds before storm. He hadn’t ever seen a storm before, but there was one in the horizon and he had a feeling it was going to be a big one.
“I’m gonna show that America and then England doesn’t have to be sad anymore!” he swore. But he felt guiltily a bit curious; how does one break a heart when it’s safely inside them?
He learned that when England took Wales with him and sailed away, leaving him with Governor Phillip. England never looked back and New South Wales bawled his eyes out.
New South Wales - later New South Wales and New Holland, later yet the British Colonies of New South Wales, Tasmania, Western Australia and South Australia, but that was a mouthful so he just called himself Australia at that point - grew up quickly by nations’ reckoning. His first generation was made of thieves and whores, beggars and vagabonds, and his first three colonies were penal colonies; some might say he was born old. His English, initially so pristine and clean, soon tarnished into horrible slang, but he hardly cared. He lived a wild life, roaming his land, playing with Koala, swimming in the warm ocean, fishing and hunting.
But he lived a lonely life, a real Billy no-mates he was. He only had soft-spoken, mild New Zealand for company and even they didn’t see each other that often. His first governor had told him he should never let humans know what he was so he couldn’t become very close with anyone and England only visited him once. Wales at least came three times, but it was a long, arduous journey and Wales had his own country to mind. And Australia knew why he was left alone. From childhood to youth the name America hung over him like the shadow of a particularly big mountain, the kind that loom in the horizon and can not be ignored.
Re: Australia 1.
anonymous
November 20 2011, 00:26:56 UTC
America, England’s precious favourite brother. Duffer, not-know-his-own-best America who had betrayed England and now England didn’t want anything to do with Australia either because of him. Australia hated America long before he saw the nation, learned to find him from a map, learned what his flag looked like. Fucking precious, rich America whose loss had hit England so hard. What could Australia offer that was better? He named his new colony Victoria after Queen Victoria, but it didn’t make him feel much better.
Then came February 1851 and Edward Hammond Hargraves found gold from his soil. Australia sent England six ships carrying eight tons of gold - and himself.
Australia made a bit of a bloody of a pest himself during the journey, but he looked young still, a lad in his fourteens maybe, and the sailors were indulgent of him. The sea journey was long and dull, but every day brought Australia closer to England. He pictured it in his mind over a hundred times, what he would say when he presented his gold to England and what England would (hopefully) say. That Australia was a much better brother than America had ever been, more loyal, more English. That Australia could stay with him in England if England couldn’t come to Australia. That day shone brighter than all the gold on his ships in Australia’s mind.
He had thought a lot what London would be like, the capital of the entire British Empire, but the truth… it was just so much more than what he could have expected. Bigger, noisier, dirtier, grander and poorer at the same time and above all so terribly OLD. He had known, of course, that England was older than the Christian era and that this town wasn’t anywhere near his true age, small potatoes really, but knowing and seeing it, feeling it all around like the crackling of a thunderstorm in the air, breathing in history like dust and spider webs and moth wings, it was really, terribly scary. It made him feel so small and insignificant.
But he hadn’t given up as a toddler when he had seen England standing on the other side of a square with an ocean of big, uncaring, busy men between them and he wasn’t about to disgrace himself now. Australia held his head high and marched into the palace, to England.
The palace was even more grandiose than London as a whole, cleaner for one and big, bigger than some towns in Australia. It was light as summer day, with white marble and pale oak paneling and furniture - and golden sunshine shone in, like it loved the place. But slowly the intimidation paled away, replaced with pride. Australia was goddammit proud to be part of this nation and he sprung into England’s room without being announced. His big brother had been reading a stack of papers behind a desk so pale it was almost white, but when the door banged open he lifted his face, first in annoyance. But when England saw who his visitor was his face shifted into slight bewilderment.
“Australia. I was told you had found gold, but not that you were going to visit me,” England said. That hadn’t been in Australia’s script and he didn’t know what to say.
The first thing he could think of he blurted out: “Pay attenshun ter me!”
“Pardon?” England asked with a really posh voice. Australia wanted to kick himself for sounding so needy. But then, this game was kind of lost already so why not just go with honesty and see where it took him?
“I’m yaahr fuckin’ bruvver, but I never see ya. I love yew an' shit an’ I’m not gonna leave yew like what bastard America did. If yew can’t stay wiv me I’m gonna stay wiv yew instead, just please don’t send me back, ay bloody crook. I crossed da ocean fer yew an' gave yew tons ov gold, America never did that. OK?” And now he was angry and he hadn’t meant to be. This was not what he had intended to say, not his golden, perfect day. But it was him, so him it hurt. He just wanted England to love him back.
Re: Australia 1.
anonymous
November 20 2011, 00:27:47 UTC
“Well, you certainly have my attention now,” England said. Australia had a feeling his big brother meant something by it, but he didn’t know what. But England hadn’t told him to go back and he wasn’t the type to be shy about this stuff so Australia smiled. He laughed and climbed England’s desk and hugged England. England scolded him for ruining his papers, but those were about Australia anyway so he didn’t feel guilty. He could just tell England whatever he needed to know.
“Do yew really 'ave bloody castles what 'ave ghosts in 'em? And fairies an' unicorns?” he asked. It seemed greedy of him to want those too, but Australia was a child of thieves, he had no problems being greedy.
“I do. I suppose you can - stay here for a while.” England forced those last words between his teeth, like they had cost him something. He picked the papers up and shuffled them, but Australia was sure he couldn’t read them that quickly. He hugged England and petted his back because he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes it sucked being too young to understand.
NOT that he was going to let anyone get away with saying he was too young for anything!
“But you will have to learn proper Queen’s English. That will not do at all. I should wash your mouth with soap for some of that.” England wasn’t looking into Australia’s eye. Australia felt a bit hurt, but continued smiling. It was his golden day, he wasn’t going to be sad at all.
“For a while” turned out to be two years. Australia would have stayed longer, but he was needed back in his own soil, England decreed, he needed to learn to mind his own colonies properly. But those years were great, magical. At first England’s eyes would get that haunted look again and again, but Australia never said anything and that look made an appearance maybe one a month during the second year, if that. Australia saw a real fairy and a ghost and he didn’t feel too slighted at being cheated out of seeing a unicorn. He learned to speak like England wanted him to, he visited Wales many times and met Scotland and both Irelands. The mountain named America didn’t disappear entirely, for both years there was this Day when England would shut himself in his room and drink himself a bad, really not good, terrible hangover and not look Australia at all the next day, but it shrunk until it seemed like something he could fight and win instead of some insurmountable obstacle.
Australia didn’t cry or argue when it was time for him to leave. He was mature and all that shit, but he was determined also. That allowed him to go and do what he was needed o for the betterment of the Empire.
“If you won’t visit me, I’ll just come here again,” he shouted over the railing, waving his kerchief. The wind and waves sung in his ears and people shouted so loudly he couldn’t hear anything England might have said, but that was all right. England waved back and Australia was absolutely, totally sure he say England smile!
Take that, America!
Oak turns dark with age so when English antique-to-be furniture was made it would have been light. A funny, not really relevant historical fact of the day.
The first thing New South Wales remembered was lying in grass, looking at the bright blue sky. This was before he knew his name was New South Wales, of course. There was a cute, fluffy, gray animal sleeping beside him and he named her Koala, but it didn’t occur to him to give himself a name. He lied down in the grass and watched clouds for a long time, but then he got hungry. He cried a little, but he was still hungry and no one came, so he wiped his tears with the back of his hand, took his Koala in his arms and went to look for someone who would feed him.
He found many people, all carrying things and looking very busy. No one looked at him and no one felt right to him so he walked more until his feet begun to hurt. His eyes were all teary again and the tears were just about to fall again when he saw a man in red coat. The man wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short either. The man had light brown hair and really nice voice and so he walked towards the man. People almost kicked him, collided with him or hit him with something several times - why was everyone so big here? - but he didn’t stop. The man didn’t notice him at first; he was speaking with another man in red coat, a gray-haired one who smelled funny. So New South Wales set Koala down and hugged his legs. It made his chest feel nice and warm.
The man let out a startled sound and looked down. His eyes were even greener than grass.
“I’m hungry. I like you a lot.” Those were New South Wales’ first words.
He was given porridge and fish and bread and it tasted really good. He learned the man’s name was England and he was an Empire. New South Wales was a colony; he wasn’t really too sure what colony was, but he hoped it was a good thing so England would like him. England had a brother whose name was Wales and who looked like England except his hair was more orange, like desert dust. Wales laughed a lot and he gave New South Wales many clothes that were blue and red and green and yellow and really very pretty, but he wasn’t England. New South Wales told them he liked England the best and that he wanted to live with him forever, but that made England look blustery and run out of the room.
“Tai anythen yaouw said, honeycrumb. Someone named America bost his heart a lickle while ago so he's touchy roight noo,” Wales said and ruffled his hair. Now New South Wales was beginning to feel blustery, like clouds before storm. He hadn’t ever seen a storm before, but there was one in the horizon and he had a feeling it was going to be a big one.
“I’m gonna show that America and then England doesn’t have to be sad anymore!” he swore. But he felt guiltily a bit curious; how does one break a heart when it’s safely inside them?
He learned that when England took Wales with him and sailed away, leaving him with Governor Phillip. England never looked back and New South Wales bawled his eyes out.
New South Wales - later New South Wales and New Holland, later yet the British Colonies of New South Wales, Tasmania, Western Australia and South Australia, but that was a mouthful so he just called himself Australia at that point - grew up quickly by nations’ reckoning. His first generation was made of thieves and whores, beggars and vagabonds, and his first three colonies were penal colonies; some might say he was born old. His English, initially so pristine and clean, soon tarnished into horrible slang, but he hardly cared. He lived a wild life, roaming his land, playing with Koala, swimming in the warm ocean, fishing and hunting.
But he lived a lonely life, a real Billy no-mates he was. He only had soft-spoken, mild New Zealand for company and even they didn’t see each other that often. His first governor had told him he should never let humans know what he was so he couldn’t become very close with anyone and England only visited him once. Wales at least came three times, but it was a long, arduous journey and Wales had his own country to mind. And Australia knew why he was left alone. From childhood to youth the name America hung over him like the shadow of a particularly big mountain, the kind that loom in the horizon and can not be ignored.
Reply
Then came February 1851 and Edward Hammond Hargraves found gold from his soil. Australia sent England six ships carrying eight tons of gold - and himself.
Australia made a bit of a bloody of a pest himself during the journey, but he looked young still, a lad in his fourteens maybe, and the sailors were indulgent of him. The sea journey was long and dull, but every day brought Australia closer to England. He pictured it in his mind over a hundred times, what he would say when he presented his gold to England and what England would (hopefully) say. That Australia was a much better brother than America had ever been, more loyal, more English. That Australia could stay with him in England if England couldn’t come to Australia. That day shone brighter than all the gold on his ships in Australia’s mind.
He had thought a lot what London would be like, the capital of the entire British Empire, but the truth… it was just so much more than what he could have expected. Bigger, noisier, dirtier, grander and poorer at the same time and above all so terribly OLD. He had known, of course, that England was older than the Christian era and that this town wasn’t anywhere near his true age, small potatoes really, but knowing and seeing it, feeling it all around like the crackling of a thunderstorm in the air, breathing in history like dust and spider webs and moth wings, it was really, terribly scary. It made him feel so small and insignificant.
But he hadn’t given up as a toddler when he had seen England standing on the other side of a square with an ocean of big, uncaring, busy men between them and he wasn’t about to disgrace himself now. Australia held his head high and marched into the palace, to England.
The palace was even more grandiose than London as a whole, cleaner for one and big, bigger than some towns in Australia. It was light as summer day, with white marble and pale oak paneling and furniture - and golden sunshine shone in, like it loved the place. But slowly the intimidation paled away, replaced with pride. Australia was goddammit proud to be part of this nation and he sprung into England’s room without being announced. His big brother had been reading a stack of papers behind a desk so pale it was almost white, but when the door banged open he lifted his face, first in annoyance. But when England saw who his visitor was his face shifted into slight bewilderment.
“Australia. I was told you had found gold, but not that you were going to visit me,” England said. That hadn’t been in Australia’s script and he didn’t know what to say.
The first thing he could think of he blurted out: “Pay attenshun ter me!”
“Pardon?” England asked with a really posh voice. Australia wanted to kick himself for sounding so needy. But then, this game was kind of lost already so why not just go with honesty and see where it took him?
“I’m yaahr fuckin’ bruvver, but I never see ya. I love yew an' shit an’ I’m not gonna leave yew like what bastard America did. If yew can’t stay wiv me I’m gonna stay wiv yew instead, just please don’t send me back, ay bloody crook. I crossed da ocean fer yew an' gave yew tons ov gold, America never did that. OK?” And now he was angry and he hadn’t meant to be. This was not what he had intended to say, not his golden, perfect day. But it was him, so him it hurt. He just wanted England to love him back.
Reply
“Do yew really 'ave bloody castles what 'ave ghosts in 'em? And fairies an' unicorns?” he asked. It seemed greedy of him to want those too, but Australia was a child of thieves, he had no problems being greedy.
“I do. I suppose you can - stay here for a while.” England forced those last words between his teeth, like they had cost him something. He picked the papers up and shuffled them, but Australia was sure he couldn’t read them that quickly. He hugged England and petted his back because he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes it sucked being too young to understand.
NOT that he was going to let anyone get away with saying he was too young for anything!
“But you will have to learn proper Queen’s English. That will not do at all. I should wash your mouth with soap for some of that.” England wasn’t looking into Australia’s eye. Australia felt a bit hurt, but continued smiling. It was his golden day, he wasn’t going to be sad at all.
“For a while” turned out to be two years. Australia would have stayed longer, but he was needed back in his own soil, England decreed, he needed to learn to mind his own colonies properly. But those years were great, magical. At first England’s eyes would get that haunted look again and again, but Australia never said anything and that look made an appearance maybe one a month during the second year, if that. Australia saw a real fairy and a ghost and he didn’t feel too slighted at being cheated out of seeing a unicorn. He learned to speak like England wanted him to, he visited Wales many times and met Scotland and both Irelands. The mountain named America didn’t disappear entirely, for both years there was this Day when England would shut himself in his room and drink himself a bad, really not good, terrible hangover and not look Australia at all the next day, but it shrunk until it seemed like something he could fight and win instead of some insurmountable obstacle.
Australia didn’t cry or argue when it was time for him to leave. He was mature and all that shit, but he was determined also. That allowed him to go and do what he was needed o for the betterment of the Empire.
“If you won’t visit me, I’ll just come here again,” he shouted over the railing, waving his kerchief. The wind and waves sung in his ears and people shouted so loudly he couldn’t hear anything England might have said, but that was all right. England waved back and Australia was absolutely, totally sure he say England smile!
Take that, America!
Oak turns dark with age so when English antique-to-be furniture was made it would have been light. A funny, not really relevant historical fact of the day.
Reply
Leave a comment