Boys and Their Toys
Title: Boys and Their Toys
Rating: PG for implications
Genre: General
Characters/Pairings: America
Summary: When I was a child, I did as children do.
Words: 233
Notes: I'm actually happy where this one is. I don't want to do anything to it or expand it. It's...it's angsty again. I'm not sure how well this reflects my view of my nation with the amount of angst I roll him in. Haha. Dedicated to all my military friends, you know who you are. :)
Also, I must note how amusing the image of a young America trying to tie a necktie is. *nods*
Prompt: Games
Third Place!! Thanks guys for the votes! ^^
When he was a boy, he played with shiny toys. He ran through fields, arms catching breezes underhand. He laughed with the bees and sang with the sycamores. He learned arithmetic with boys and danced with girls. He felt the sun on his face and smiled at a God who smiled back.
When he was a Colony, his Nation taught him. He learnt to dress properly, to hunt quickly, to dream widely, to be a man finely.
He is a man now. Shiny, black guns replace shiny, tin toys. Arid mountains snow capped and mine wrapped replace grassy knolls and daffodils. Air is thin and is sweat, blood, dust, gunpowder and ink blotched on scrap paper, destination home.
He laughs with men and sings with them too around a fire that chuckles along. There are women around the embers as well. One tells him she can’t dance, and he promises to teach her. Another shows him a photo of her son, and he promises to bring her back.
He feels the sun on his neck, in the wrinkles of his uniform, in the pit of his stomach. He turns to sky, and grimaces, wondering if that childhood God is still there smiling at him.
When he became a Nation, he taught himself. He learned to knot a necktie quickly, to speak to a Nation diplomatically, to surrender rarely, to be a soldier finely.
Rating: PG for implications
Genre: General
Characters/Pairings: America
Summary: When I was a child, I did as children do.
Words: 233
Notes: I'm actually happy where this one is. I don't want to do anything to it or expand it. It's...it's angsty again. I'm not sure how well this reflects my view of my nation with the amount of angst I roll him in. Haha. Dedicated to all my military friends, you know who you are. :)
Also, I must note how amusing the image of a young America trying to tie a necktie is. *nods*
Prompt: Games
Third Place!! Thanks guys for the votes! ^^
When he was a boy, he played with shiny toys. He ran through fields, arms catching breezes underhand. He laughed with the bees and sang with the sycamores. He learned arithmetic with boys and danced with girls. He felt the sun on his face and smiled at a God who smiled back.
When he was a Colony, his Nation taught him. He learnt to dress properly, to hunt quickly, to dream widely, to be a man finely.
He is a man now. Shiny, black guns replace shiny, tin toys. Arid mountains snow capped and mine wrapped replace grassy knolls and daffodils. Air is thin and is sweat, blood, dust, gunpowder and ink blotched on scrap paper, destination home.
He laughs with men and sings with them too around a fire that chuckles along. There are women around the embers as well. One tells him she can’t dance, and he promises to teach her. Another shows him a photo of her son, and he promises to bring her back.
He feels the sun on his neck, in the wrinkles of his uniform, in the pit of his stomach. He turns to sky, and grimaces, wondering if that childhood God is still there smiling at him.
When he became a Nation, he taught himself. He learned to knot a necktie quickly, to speak to a Nation diplomatically, to surrender rarely, to be a soldier finely.