United We Stand [2/?]
anonymous
May 6 2009, 21:02:29 UTC
America started teaching the new states early, once he finally got them back, telling them both stories of the revolution. He lingered on the people involved, the ones he could remember best, mumbling about France’s help before he went mad, Franklin’s love for Paris, speaking whatever garbled French he knew.
And then he’d start about all the English philosophers he’d never met, like Locke and Hobbes, and how he was so angry at England once he found the books it seemed like he’d been hiding from America.
Then came Prussia training the military, and then came the old militias, and then the generals, until, inevitably, America found General Washington.
General Washington, the Holy Trinity, Boss, Father, Lover, somehow all three at once, and by then the two little states had grown old enough to know to be sick at America going on about him. By that time, they were both old enough to be sent to their respective governors and legislators, their proper homes.
One grew up with the Atlantic and the other grew up riverside, and by the next session of congress, the twins didn’t recognize each other.
America probably would have cried, if he weren’t already so busy with baby Arkansas already at his hip.
United We Stand [3/?]
anonymous
May 6 2009, 21:04:52 UTC
America marveled at how fast Texas could gulp down what was put on the plate in front of him. He ate like a man who hadn’t eaten in weeks - and America thought, that might be true. Though they both knew how the vote would turn, Texas had refused to take anything of America’s before everything was ratified.
Arkansas was now big enough to crawl around underfoot. Florida waited patiently as South Carolina cut her food. Michigan had stopped crying and would open his mouth long enough to get some fruit paste in.
And now Texas has finally given up that fierce pride of his, if only long enough for breakfast. America smiled. It looked like today was going to be a good day.
“So Texas,” started America, “You happy here? You think you made the right choice?”
Texas nodded, not stopping to say a word. America returned his attention to Michigan, telling him to say ‘aaah.’
Michigan wouldn’t, though, even when he’d been so cooperative before. To prove he should eat, America put the reloaded spoon in his mouth, and promptly gagged. It tasted something like shit. Instead, America cut up and mashed some of the fruit on the table with a fork, hoping Michigan would find them a bit more palatable. Michigan seemed to agree that it was.
America didn’t want to ruin the quiet morning, but he knew that if he didn’t ruin it now, he’d have to ruin some other time. He took a deep breath and asked,
“You sure you want to be a slave-state, Texas?”
“He’s under the parallel,” said South carolina tersely, finishing chopping Florida’s omelette and handing off the fork to her little sister, “He’s got every right to it.”
“It’s his decision,” said America.
“And if I recall, he’s already said what he decided,” said South Carolina.
“I’m just making sure,” said America. So many years before he wouldn’t have cared either way, letting his states do as they would do. But now, the right to own slaves had become so much more than the right to own slaves - The whole business left him with a bad taste in his mouth. What was it General Washington had said again?
“‘Mn need the labor.”
No, those were Texas’s words, with the same words as all the others to justify it. At that moment, though America did not want to think about labor.
“See, Pa? He’s already made up his mind.”
“Alright then,” said America, thinking that somehow the political game his kids liked to play would be ruined with such uneven players. But even so, he could feel another state on the way, so their numbers couldn’t be uneven for long.
Re: United We Stand [3/?]
anonymous
May 8 2009, 17:12:01 UTC
*laughs* You know, I don't usually see the States so much as America's kids, but it really works here. Poor America, with 50 of them! (Though, I can't say I'm too surprised. America always did strike me as a bit of a, um, loose nation.)
Not taking offense or anything, but during the 1800's, America did it's best to keep away from Europe's affairs as long as Europe kept out of the New World. Today's America, yeah, I can see seeming a bit loose. But back then? I don't quite see where you're seeing it. Please enlighten me?
United We Stand [4/?]
anonymous
May 9 2009, 01:28:14 UTC
doing this to keep it from getting collapsed further
---
America only notice how big Texas’s hands were when they were so warm and all over him.
This hadn’t really been America’s intention, at least at first, but Texas wasn’t like the others. He was nearly the same size as America himself, and it had been so long since America had seen anyone in Europe, and Canada was still sore, and Mexico, after that war to keep Texas himself, would never talk to him ever again. With just kids he was still lonely, and though America didn’t want Texas to get the wrong idea, he had to admit that he needed this. They both did. Texas mouthed at the newly exposed skin as he undid each of America’s buttons, and America groped for a space he knew wasn’t covered in bruises on Texas’s body. But Texas didn’t seem to mind when he missed, and as long as they both wanted it, they might as well, and it had been so long, too -
“America.”
It had stopped. Texas was using his mouth to speak instead.
“If you want me to stop, just say.”
“But I don’t,” said America. As Texas reached for the corner of his eye to brush away some moisture there, America remembered that the last time he was in this position, letting himself be ravished like this, he was under General Washington.
“Then what do you want me to do?” Texas’s face softened in a way America didn’t think it could. He thought for a moment, heart still fluttering, and pulled his shirt back together.
“I just realized,” said America, “I never told you about the General, did I?”
United We Stand [5/?]
anonymous
May 10 2009, 23:37:08 UTC
“Dammit, SC!”
The slap nearly echoed through the room, or perhaps it was only in America’s mind that it did.
“I didn’t take your fucking letters! I tol’ you a million times, I didn’t take them.”
But America grabbed her shoulder, drawing back his hand for another slap. South Carolina did not flinch, though, even as red blossomed across her cheek. He saw the truth now, in her eyes, something he’d always thought he could see before. Why hadn’t he seen it this time, again?
Breathless, America took back his hands. The defiant look stayed on South Carolina’s face.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” he said, and she grabbed back her arm, saying nothing to him, storming out, calling for Florida.
So South Carolina hadn’t taken the letters from America’s locked drawer, the only important ones in the whole desk. He’d need to find them though. They couldn’t have just walked out…
United We Stand [6/?]
anonymous
May 10 2009, 23:40:22 UTC
The few doctors they’d allowed to touch him called it a miscarriage, while those in the west called it Bleeding Kansas. All America knew was that there was too much blood, more bloodied sheets than he’d ever remembered, and it felt like the life had been torn out of him, and that all that was left to do was the dying part.
Minnesota lay beside him, somehow sleeping soundly as pain tore at America’s stomach. Someone had put her there when he was unconscious, putting her sparse hair in pigtails. But there should have ben two little girls there, he thought, and a short cry tore from his throat. Minnesota didn’t wake.
Maybe she was dead too. His heart ached.
“Where’s my sister?” America heard from the other room. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the shouting just got louder. “Where’s my sister? Where is she?”
With a crashing noise, the sound stumbled into America’s room, all crashing and violence.
“You killed her you sonofabitch, you have no little sister cause you killed her!”
The brown-haired boy Missouri had grown into pushed over the desk with the freakish family strength, papers flying everywhere. Massachusetts rushed in soon after, blood streaming from her nose and dripping onto her dress. Once she’d grabbed Missouri, America saw that he had a fat cut across his forehead, too.
America’s hands on Minnesota’s head had left her hair bloody. His vision swam in a sea of red.
“Where’s my sister?” cried Missouri, struggling, but Massachusetts held firm.
“It’s your fault, Missouri, you killed her -”
“Nobody killed anybody,” cried America as loudly as he could, but his voice came out sounding empty and weak. His chest burned with the effort. “‘S nobody’s fault.”
“Then where’s my little sister?”
“The baby beside him bawled, her face contorted into some unhappy mask. America gently wrapped his arm around her, trying to get her to stop, because he just didn’t have the strength to get up and rock her like he should.
“Hush, this is your sister,” said America softly, trying to shush her, to shush all of them. They’d known what happened, so the least they could do was stay quiet. Missouri gritted his teeth and walked forward to get a good look at the baby.
“But she’s not Kansas, I want Kansas -”
Massachusetts yanked him back before he could touch Minnesota, and he screamed and hit back again. Minnesota cried and the noise was too much and he didn’t know how to make it stop -
But Massachusetts dragged Missouri out of the room, and half the sound was gone, but that still meant that half the sound was still there. America’s throat was dry, like he’d done enough talking for one day, but by God, still that girl wailed, and America could do nothing but whisper “Shhh, shhh, shhh.”
The door creaked open, just a little, and America couldn’t look. He thought if he saw one more person now, he’d die today.
“Dad?”
It was Michigan, though. There were too many of them now, with those “M” names. He wondered vaguely what he was thinking when a fresh wave of pain rushed over him.
“Dad wake up!”
America opened his eyes, Michigan’s hand at his shoulder.
“Whas’ happening? No one’ll tell me anything and Missouri’s screaming and you’re all”
America wasn’t listening to the boy in furs. They were all so loud.
“Take Minne,” America managed to say. “Pa needs to be left alone.
“…Okay,” said Michigan, fumbling with his baby sister, picking her up as best he could. Once he left, things were finally quiet. But for some reason, he still couldn’t enjoy it.
Re: United We Stand [7/?]
anonymous
May 15 2009, 03:00:15 UTC
I'm so glad you guys like it! I think I've included all the states that entered the Union between Maine and Nevada, at least in passing. Sorry, Mountain States, but you didn't exist yet, LOL.
Sorry for the delay in updating. I'll try to get more up tonight because I'll be out of town this weekend ^_^;;
---
“What’s that sound?” asked America, rubbing his temples. Only California was around to ask. Even though Oregon had come into the Union relatively easily (as a free state, too - Massachusetts was pretty happy about that), Pennsylvania still suggested that he take things easy for a while.
So there had been a sort of mass exodus from America’s house, the states moving back to their own legislatures, leaving him only with his very youngest and a few servants. It made the house very quiet, now, very lonely, like the rest of his life stretched before him endlessly without respite.
That is, until the sound had started that morning, a little soft whine, and America for the life of him couldn’t tell where it was coming from. He searched from emptied room to emptied room, trying to find the source, noting carefully where it seemed to be coming from, until he found California in a room, sitting on top of a trunk.
“I don’t hear anything,” said California, but it sounded like it was definitely coming from that room. Sometimes, though, California could be so oblivious…
“Don’t you hear that?” America asked, and California paused from her reading.
“Oh,” she said, and by then, America was sure it was coming from that trunk she was sitting on.
“Get up,” he ordered, and once California hopped up with her book, America kneeled down painfully to open the trunk. It was a gift from long ago, with a five-number lock.
It might have been a baby raccoon inside the trunk, some animal that California found outside. Maybe she was trying to hide it away from him, like some precious thing that needed to be locked away, like those letters of America’s that were still missing even when only he had the key. But anyway. He’d have to talk to her about how she couldn’t just take animals into the house, but then he realized that what was inside the trunk wasn’t a little animal at all.
Instead, it was little Oregon, flinching at the light.
“God,” America breathed. California only stared.
“How long has she - oh Lord -” America picked Oregon up, cradling her close as she continued making those small wines, probably too tired and dehydrated to cry. “Why?”
America’s mind raced, trying to think of what he should do with her first, trying to gauge how long she’d been locked up in the trunk.
“I know she’s annoying as Hell sometimes, California, but you’ve just got to deal with it -”
“I didn’t do it.”
“Don’t lie to me!” If there wasn’t going to be anyone around the least, the very least the ones around could do is not lie to him.
“Dad,” she said, and pointed to the box, somehow still calm, “Think, Dad. Who else knows the combination?”
And America realized for the first time that, despite everything, California was a very smart little girl.
Re: United We Stand [8/?]
anonymous
May 15 2009, 03:16:41 UTC
XXXXX
By Christmas, news of South Carolina’s secession from the Union reached Washington. This meant that instead of a relaxing evening after mass and celebration, three of America’s older children instead had to restrain America from thrashing while Pennsylvania tried to find the source of the bleeding.
Their father had only gone away for a few minutes upon hearing the news, saying that he was going to find the things South Carolina had left in the house so he could ship them back to her. He had been quiet, calm, almost smiling when he’d done it.
It seemed to the states holding him down, though, that South Carolina’s things included parts of America’s liver and gall bladder, along with copious amounts of his blood.
Even with the wound, their father was still strong as an ox and fought every inch of the way to the kitchen’s table. Four of them were enough to do it, though, New Jersey and Maryland, one on each arm, Ohio at his torso, and Vermont pinning his calves to the table.
“It’s all right,” muttered Pennsylvania, though now that he’d torn off enough of America’s shirt to see the wound, he wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t just new blood now, it was old stitches, too, with angry read infection and graying dead skin. It took Pennsylvania a moment to remember what the old stitches were from.
“It’s okay, it is, just stay still and we can handle this,” said Pennsylvania, wadding up some shirt and pressing down. America writhed under their hands and cried something incoherent. If Pennsylvania knew anything he knew the shock and pain would set in soon. Though he remembered little of Europe, and nothing of Nations’ constant struggles and deaths, he knew that this was not good.
“Let her go she can go if she wants to she just left so many things and I’ll have to give it back I can’t keep it it’s hers get your damn hands off of me New Jersey dammit you bastard dammit -”
All through the rant America’s voice grew quieter, his thrashing less violent.
“Ohio,” said Pennsylvania, “I want you to grab Maryland’s sewing kit and - do you know if there’s any laudanum around?”
“Why would he have laudanum?” grunted Maryland, resorting to using her knee to help hold her father’s elbow down.
“I think I saw some in his bedroom,” offered Vermont, and Ohio hurried off.
Re: United We Stand [9/?]
anonymous
May 15 2009, 04:16:23 UTC
Illinois held Kansas in one arm and a fat stack of letters in the other.
“Do you want me to read them to you?” asked Illinois, taking a seat by the bed,
“I think they’re all notices of secession. Do you want me to read them to you anyway, Dad?”
America barely responded with a blink. He’d seemed extraordinarily uninterested in everything, even Kansas - no, especially Kansas. All the other states, at least the states that had stayed by his side, had to take turns taking care of her.
Illinois flipped through the letters anyway. “There’s a notice from Alabama, and Mississippi; Louisiana’s left us too…” muttered illinois, until he settled on an envelope that was a bit different from the others. “And a message from Russia.”
“Russia?”
“Should I open it?”
“…”
Illinois set the other letters on his lap and tore Russia’s open and began reading. “America, I regret that you have such unruly children, but looking back, it seems inevitable…” he flinched as it sounded like he skipped a few paragraphs, “Nonetheless, for your aid in the Crimean War, I would like to reciprocate. Not because it is my concern how you raise your children, but rather, but because it is inevitable. It is your boss’s decision whether to accept, but upon your request, I may find the time to visit your myself. Be well - Russia.”
“No.”
“You sure?” asked Illinois.
“Mn.”
“Okay…” Illinois shifted Kansas in his arm a bit as he thumbed through the rest of the envelopes, naming more states - Georgia, Florida, and then Texas.
“This one’s real thick. Do you want me to open it?”
America didn’t say anything. He was too occupied thinking he couldn’t let Russia see him like this, in the care of his children because he couldn’t get up and had started losing feeling in his toes.
Illinois seemed to take this nonresponse as a yes - they all had started to do that - and opened the letter anyway. It seemed to explode with papers, all stuffed into that envelope. He tried to pry out the papers carefully, but with his hand so limited by the baby, the papers fell and scattered except for the few at the bottom. A small sheet from the bottom caught his eye. He picked it out and read. “America. I have finally found the time to read your letters. They tell a fine story. I regret that I cannot be a part of it. -Texas.”
He picked up as many letters as he could, unfolding a few carefully. “What are these? Washington? Where did all these come from?”
Yesterday, the new boss had ordered that America stop trying to give his children their things back, but this was different. Those letters, he’d wanted them for so long, he’d thought he had lost them, and now even though they were all so bitter Texas had still thought to send them back.
Re: United We Stand [10/?]
anonymous
May 15 2009, 04:17:26 UTC
America took off his glasses, remembering them as a gift from Texas when they both saw that America’s shooting wasn’t quite what it used to be. Then he reached under the sheets, finding the stitches, remembering that there was something else for Texas around his small intestine -
“Don’t pick at your stitches, Dad,” said Illinois, but why should America listen to him? Texas deserved something for that, and America was the father, he didn’t have to listen to the boy, even it was the exact same thing his boss had told him yesterday. He didn’t want to listen to his new boss, anyway. Some days he just wanted to kill the man, to get his children to come back home, but any time he said anything about it the Union states - that was what they would call themselves - would say he was just feverish.
But even if his south didn’t want to come back, that was okay. He still at least wanted the right to say goodbye, and to give them what they wanted back.
“Dad, don’t pick at your stitches, Dad, don’t do this.” Illinois used his free hand to wrestle America’s hand from him. “Don’t do this. You don’t owe them a damn thing. It’s just the fever. It’ll pass, Dad, don't...”
As Illinois tried to rub America’s palm affectionately, America continued his work with his other hand.
“This is ridiculous,” Illinois huffed, standing up, slapping away America’s other hand, but already the sheets were blossoming bloodstains.
“Ohio? Indiana?” he shouted, but no one answered. He gripped Kansas close, and said, “If you - stop that! Do you want me to have to tie your down?”
America gasped softly, still digging into his own flesh, trying to find what belonged to Texas, thinking that he’d be able to find it by touch alone. Illinois bit his lip, hard, and ran out of the room, crying other states names for help.
America looked over, seeing the precious letters, the ones he though he lost, and picked them up with bloodied fingers. He kissed the edges of the paper, tasting the blood, sweat, and tears that made the words, and the love in the pages.
Re: United We Stand [10/?]
anonymous
May 24 2009, 21:40:31 UTC
Anon just wants to say that she doesn't understand why there aren't any other comments on this fill because it's so grim but also so very moving and she hopes that the author does continue.
And then he’d start about all the English philosophers he’d never met, like Locke and Hobbes, and how he was so angry at England once he found the books it seemed like he’d been hiding from America.
Then came Prussia training the military, and then came the old militias, and then the generals, until, inevitably, America found General Washington.
General Washington, the Holy Trinity, Boss, Father, Lover, somehow all three at once, and by then the two little states had grown old enough to know to be sick at America going on about him. By that time, they were both old enough to be sent to their respective governors and legislators, their proper homes.
One grew up with the Atlantic and the other grew up riverside, and by the next session of congress, the twins didn’t recognize each other.
America probably would have cried, if he weren’t already so busy with baby Arkansas already at his hip.
XXXXX
Reply
Arkansas was now big enough to crawl around underfoot. Florida waited patiently as South Carolina cut her food. Michigan had stopped crying and would open his mouth long enough to get some fruit paste in.
And now Texas has finally given up that fierce pride of his, if only long enough for breakfast. America smiled. It looked like today was going to be a good day.
“So Texas,” started America, “You happy here? You think you made the right choice?”
Texas nodded, not stopping to say a word. America returned his attention to Michigan, telling him to say ‘aaah.’
Michigan wouldn’t, though, even when he’d been so cooperative before. To prove he should eat, America put the reloaded spoon in his mouth, and promptly gagged. It tasted something like shit. Instead, America cut up and mashed some of the fruit on the table with a fork, hoping Michigan would find them a bit more palatable. Michigan seemed to agree that it was.
America didn’t want to ruin the quiet morning, but he knew that if he didn’t ruin it now, he’d have to ruin some other time. He took a deep breath and asked,
“You sure you want to be a slave-state, Texas?”
“He’s under the parallel,” said South carolina tersely, finishing chopping Florida’s omelette and handing off the fork to her little sister, “He’s got every right to it.”
“It’s his decision,” said America.
“And if I recall, he’s already said what he decided,” said South Carolina.
“I’m just making sure,” said America. So many years before he wouldn’t have cared either way, letting his states do as they would do. But now, the right to own slaves had become so much more than the right to own slaves - The whole business left him with a bad taste in his mouth. What was it General Washington had said again?
“‘Mn need the labor.”
No, those were Texas’s words, with the same words as all the others to justify it. At that moment, though America did not want to think about labor.
“See, Pa? He’s already made up his mind.”
“Alright then,” said America, thinking that somehow the political game his kids liked to play would be ruined with such uneven players. But even so, he could feel another state on the way, so their numbers couldn’t be uneven for long.
XXXXX
Reply
Looking forward to seeing the next bit!
Reply
Reply
---
America only notice how big Texas’s hands were when they were so warm and all over him.
This hadn’t really been America’s intention, at least at first, but Texas wasn’t like the others. He was nearly the same size as America himself, and it had been so long since America had seen anyone in Europe, and Canada was still sore, and Mexico, after that war to keep Texas himself, would never talk to him ever again. With just kids he was still lonely, and though America didn’t want Texas to get the wrong idea, he had to admit that he needed this. They both did.
Texas mouthed at the newly exposed skin as he undid each of America’s buttons, and America groped for a space he knew wasn’t covered in bruises on Texas’s body. But Texas didn’t seem to mind when he missed, and as long as they both wanted it, they might as well, and it had been so long, too -
“America.”
It had stopped. Texas was using his mouth to speak instead.
“If you want me to stop, just say.”
“But I don’t,” said America. As Texas reached for the corner of his eye to brush away some moisture there, America remembered that the last time he was in this position, letting himself be ravished like this, he was under General Washington.
“Then what do you want me to do?” Texas’s face softened in a way America didn’t think it could. He thought for a moment, heart still fluttering, and pulled his shirt back together.
“I just realized,” said America, “I never told you about the General, did I?”
XXXXX
Reply
The slap nearly echoed through the room, or perhaps it was only in America’s mind that it did.
“I didn’t take your fucking letters! I tol’ you a million times, I didn’t take them.”
But America grabbed her shoulder, drawing back his hand for another slap. South Carolina did not flinch, though, even as red blossomed across her cheek. He saw the truth now, in her eyes, something he’d always thought he could see before. Why hadn’t he seen it this time, again?
Breathless, America took back his hands. The defiant look stayed on South Carolina’s face.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” he said, and she grabbed back her arm, saying nothing to him, storming out, calling for Florida.
So South Carolina hadn’t taken the letters from America’s locked drawer, the only important ones in the whole desk. He’d need to find them though. They couldn’t have just walked out…
XXXXX
Reply
Minnesota lay beside him, somehow sleeping soundly as pain tore at America’s stomach. Someone had put her there when he was unconscious, putting her sparse hair in pigtails. But there should have ben two little girls there, he thought, and a short cry tore from his throat. Minnesota didn’t wake.
Maybe she was dead too. His heart ached.
“Where’s my sister?” America heard from the other room. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the shouting just got louder. “Where’s my sister? Where is she?”
With a crashing noise, the sound stumbled into America’s room, all crashing and violence.
“You killed her you sonofabitch, you have no little sister cause you killed her!”
The brown-haired boy Missouri had grown into pushed over the desk with the freakish family strength, papers flying everywhere. Massachusetts rushed in soon after, blood streaming from her nose and dripping onto her dress. Once she’d grabbed Missouri, America saw that he had a fat cut across his forehead, too.
America’s hands on Minnesota’s head had left her hair bloody. His vision swam in a sea of red.
“Where’s my sister?” cried Missouri, struggling, but Massachusetts held firm.
“It’s your fault, Missouri, you killed her -”
“Nobody killed anybody,” cried America as loudly as he could, but his voice came out sounding empty and weak. His chest burned with the effort. “‘S nobody’s fault.”
“Then where’s my little sister?”
“The baby beside him bawled, her face contorted into some unhappy mask. America gently wrapped his arm around her, trying to get her to stop, because he just didn’t have the strength to get up and rock her like he should.
“Hush, this is your sister,” said America softly, trying to shush her, to shush all of them. They’d known what happened, so the least they could do was stay quiet. Missouri gritted his teeth and walked forward to get a good look at the baby.
“But she’s not Kansas, I want Kansas -”
Massachusetts yanked him back before he could touch Minnesota, and he screamed and hit back again. Minnesota cried and the noise was too much and he didn’t know how to make it stop -
But Massachusetts dragged Missouri out of the room, and half the sound was gone, but that still meant that half the sound was still there. America’s throat was dry, like he’d done enough talking for one day, but by God, still that girl wailed, and America could do nothing but whisper “Shhh, shhh, shhh.”
The door creaked open, just a little, and America couldn’t look. He thought if he saw one more person now, he’d die today.
“Dad?”
It was Michigan, though. There were too many of them now, with those “M” names. He wondered vaguely what he was thinking when a fresh wave of pain rushed over him.
“Dad wake up!”
America opened his eyes, Michigan’s hand at his shoulder.
“Whas’ happening? No one’ll tell me anything and Missouri’s screaming and you’re all”
America wasn’t listening to the boy in furs. They were all so loud.
“Take Minne,” America managed to say. “Pa needs to be left alone.
“…Okay,” said Michigan, fumbling with his baby sister, picking her up as best he could. Once he left, things were finally quiet. But for some reason, he still couldn’t enjoy it.
XXXXX
Reply
Reply
THIS IS SO SAD
AND SWEET
AND HISTORICAL
aajghghdjfkjg
I'm from Minnesota, and this just tugs my heartstrings.
Reply
Reply
Sorry for the delay in updating. I'll try to get more up tonight because I'll be out of town this weekend ^_^;;
---
“What’s that sound?” asked America, rubbing his temples. Only California was around to ask. Even though Oregon had come into the Union relatively easily (as a free state, too - Massachusetts was pretty happy about that), Pennsylvania still suggested that he take things easy for a while.
So there had been a sort of mass exodus from America’s house, the states moving back to their own legislatures, leaving him only with his very youngest and a few servants. It made the house very quiet, now, very lonely, like the rest of his life stretched before him endlessly without respite.
That is, until the sound had started that morning, a little soft whine, and America for the life of him couldn’t tell where it was coming from. He searched from emptied room to emptied room, trying to find the source, noting carefully where it seemed to be coming from, until he found California in a room, sitting on top of a trunk.
“I don’t hear anything,” said California, but it sounded like it was definitely coming from that room. Sometimes, though, California could be so oblivious…
“Don’t you hear that?” America asked, and California paused from her reading.
“Oh,” she said, and by then, America was sure it was coming from that trunk she was sitting on.
“Get up,” he ordered, and once California hopped up with her book, America kneeled down painfully to open the trunk. It was a gift from long ago, with a five-number lock.
It might have been a baby raccoon inside the trunk, some animal that California found outside. Maybe she was trying to hide it away from him, like some precious thing that needed to be locked away, like those letters of America’s that were still missing even when only he had the key. But anyway. He’d have to talk to her about how she couldn’t just take animals into the house, but then he realized that what was inside the trunk wasn’t a little animal at all.
Instead, it was little Oregon, flinching at the light.
“God,” America breathed. California only stared.
“How long has she - oh Lord -” America picked Oregon up, cradling her close as she continued making those small wines, probably too tired and dehydrated to cry. “Why?”
America’s mind raced, trying to think of what he should do with her first, trying to gauge how long she’d been locked up in the trunk.
“I know she’s annoying as Hell sometimes, California, but you’ve just got to deal with it -”
“I didn’t do it.”
“Don’t lie to me!” If there wasn’t going to be anyone around the least, the very least the ones around could do is not lie to him.
“Dad,” she said, and pointed to the box, somehow still calm, “Think, Dad. Who else knows the combination?”
And America realized for the first time that, despite everything, California was a very smart little girl.
Reply
And poor little Oregon. I liked how you described her distress. I actually started feeling really bad for her. (Poor thing!)
Ugh 50 kids, ohh America you need a babysitter.
Reply
By Christmas, news of South Carolina’s secession from the Union reached Washington. This meant that instead of a relaxing evening after mass and celebration, three of America’s older children instead had to restrain America from thrashing while Pennsylvania tried to find the source of the bleeding.
Their father had only gone away for a few minutes upon hearing the news, saying that he was going to find the things South Carolina had left in the house so he could ship them back to her. He had been quiet, calm, almost smiling when he’d done it.
It seemed to the states holding him down, though, that South Carolina’s things included parts of America’s liver and gall bladder, along with copious amounts of his blood.
Even with the wound, their father was still strong as an ox and fought every inch of the way to the kitchen’s table. Four of them were enough to do it, though, New Jersey and Maryland, one on each arm, Ohio at his torso, and Vermont pinning his calves to the table.
“It’s all right,” muttered Pennsylvania, though now that he’d torn off enough of America’s shirt to see the wound, he wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t just new blood now, it was old stitches, too, with angry read infection and graying dead skin. It took Pennsylvania a moment to remember what the old stitches were from.
“It’s okay, it is, just stay still and we can handle this,” said Pennsylvania, wadding up some shirt and pressing down. America writhed under their hands and cried something incoherent. If Pennsylvania knew anything he knew the shock and pain would set in soon. Though he remembered little of Europe, and nothing of Nations’ constant struggles and deaths, he knew that this was not good.
“Let her go she can go if she wants to she just left so many things and I’ll have to give it back I can’t keep it it’s hers get your damn hands off of me New Jersey dammit you bastard dammit -”
All through the rant America’s voice grew quieter, his thrashing less violent.
“Ohio,” said Pennsylvania, “I want you to grab Maryland’s sewing kit and - do you know if there’s any laudanum around?”
“Why would he have laudanum?” grunted Maryland, resorting to using her knee to help hold her father’s elbow down.
“I think I saw some in his bedroom,” offered Vermont, and Ohio hurried off.
XXXXX
Reply
“Do you want me to read them to you?” asked Illinois, taking a seat by the bed,
“I think they’re all notices of secession. Do you want me to read them to you anyway, Dad?”
America barely responded with a blink. He’d seemed extraordinarily uninterested in everything, even Kansas - no, especially Kansas. All the other states, at least the states that had stayed by his side, had to take turns taking care of her.
Illinois flipped through the letters anyway. “There’s a notice from Alabama, and Mississippi; Louisiana’s left us too…” muttered illinois, until he settled on an envelope that was a bit different from the others. “And a message from Russia.”
“Russia?”
“Should I open it?”
“…”
Illinois set the other letters on his lap and tore Russia’s open and began reading. “America, I regret that you have such unruly children, but looking back, it seems inevitable…” he flinched as it sounded like he skipped a few paragraphs, “Nonetheless, for your aid in the Crimean War, I would like to reciprocate. Not because it is my concern how you raise your children, but rather, but because it is inevitable. It is your boss’s decision whether to accept, but upon your request, I may find the time to visit your myself. Be well - Russia.”
“No.”
“You sure?” asked Illinois.
“Mn.”
“Okay…” Illinois shifted Kansas in his arm a bit as he thumbed through the rest of the envelopes, naming more states - Georgia, Florida, and then Texas.
“This one’s real thick. Do you want me to open it?”
America didn’t say anything. He was too occupied thinking he couldn’t let Russia see him like this, in the care of his children because he couldn’t get up and had started losing feeling in his toes.
Illinois seemed to take this nonresponse as a yes - they all had started to do that - and opened the letter anyway. It seemed to explode with papers, all stuffed into that envelope. He tried to pry out the papers carefully, but with his hand so limited by the baby, the papers fell and scattered except for the few at the bottom. A small sheet from the bottom caught his eye. He picked it out and read. “America. I have finally found the time to read your letters. They tell a fine story. I regret that I cannot be a part of it. -Texas.”
He picked up as many letters as he could, unfolding a few carefully. “What are these? Washington? Where did all these come from?”
Yesterday, the new boss had ordered that America stop trying to give his children their things back, but this was different. Those letters, he’d wanted them for so long, he’d thought he had lost them, and now even though they were all so bitter Texas had still thought to send them back.
Reply
“Don’t pick at your stitches, Dad,” said Illinois, but why should America listen to him? Texas deserved something for that, and America was the father, he didn’t have to listen to the boy, even it was the exact same thing his boss had told him yesterday. He didn’t want to listen to his new boss, anyway. Some days he just wanted to kill the man, to get his children to come back home, but any time he said anything about it the Union states - that was what they would call themselves - would say he was just feverish.
But even if his south didn’t want to come back, that was okay. He still at least wanted the right to say goodbye, and to give them what they wanted back.
“Dad, don’t pick at your stitches, Dad, don’t do this.” Illinois used his free hand to wrestle America’s hand from him. “Don’t do this. You don’t owe them a damn thing. It’s just the fever. It’ll pass, Dad, don't...”
As Illinois tried to rub America’s palm affectionately, America continued his work with his other hand.
“This is ridiculous,” Illinois huffed, standing up, slapping away America’s other hand, but already the sheets were blossoming bloodstains.
“Ohio? Indiana?” he shouted, but no one answered. He gripped Kansas close, and said, “If you - stop that! Do you want me to have to tie your down?”
America gasped softly, still digging into his own flesh, trying to find what belonged to Texas, thinking that he’d be able to find it by touch alone. Illinois bit his lip, hard, and ran out of the room, crying other states names for help.
America looked over, seeing the precious letters, the ones he though he lost, and picked them up with bloodied fingers. He kissed the edges of the paper, tasting the blood, sweat, and tears that made the words, and the love in the pages.
XXXXX
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment