The Old Findings of a New Beginning

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, because if I did, it would be a train wreck to the power of ten...

The screaming wouldn't stop. No matter how hard I tried to block it out, it always came back...always...

They came for me last night. They dragged me down the halls, kicking and screaming, putting me on the cold metal table that has seen nothing but death. They cut me open, sewn me up with the horrid sutures, uneven and carelessly put.

I don't know how much longer I can take it here. The clamps, the flames, the screams, all driving me slowly to the brink of insanity...God help me.

I can feel myself slipping further with each passing hour, day, week? I can't tell anymore...The madness is starting to drag me into the dark oblivion, with no intent of ever coming back...

Matthew closed the diary, wondering where this place was, the place of never-ending screams, on-going horror, torture chamber...he had found the diary in his great-grandfather's belongings and read a little bit each day, no matter how horrific, this day being a particularly horrendous one.

Tracing his finger over the peeling leather, that looked suspiciously bloodstained, he latched it, put it back in its rightful secret spot and headed down the ladder, out of the attic. You see, Matthew hasn't told his parents or brother about the diary, for his own irrational reasons. You could say that he was afraid they'd take it away, or worse, read it, knowing full well that he had been snooping around in someone's personal memoir.

Clambering downstairs for dinner, he stopped halfway, almost collapsing from the smell that had full-on rammed his innocent nostrils. Lifting his shirt to act as a gasmask (yes it was that bad) he cautiously headed downstairs to see what the hell was going on. For all he knew, there was a dead body roasting on the stove. Rounding the last corner, his eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the sight in front of him. His mom, as much as he loves her, has tried cooking. As the stereotype that the mom's cook dinner for everyone goes, it did not apply to this family. In fact, it was one of the most important rules to never let Mom cook. Ever. Anytime she tried cooking one of her 'famous scones', it always ended up in a war zone, much like the one he was presented with at the moment.

The stove was covered in a green mixture that seemed to be....glowing?? Pots and pans were scattered about, most bent at odd angles that were not supposed to be achieved by these cooking utensils. There was smoke shrouding the area, a pile of black...coal? Wait, no...It was her so-called 'cooking'. Where was Papa? Where was Alfred? Most importantly, where the heck were the fire extinguishers?
This was going to be a long night...

..."finally! That's done, so now we can actually start dinner mon amour." Papa had just finished picking up the kitchen, and after a thorough lecture given to Mom, she had reluctantly agreed to never cook in the kitchen. We'll see how long that lasts...It was already around nine and everybody (except Papa) was cranky from lack of food. Thankfully, he was a fast cooker when he wanted to be, not to mention his food was amazing, so it was worth the short wait.

While Matthew was sitting in the now clean kitchen with his brother and mom, his mind wandered off to his grandfather's mysterious diary. How did it get here? Where was he? Does it still exist? What abou- his thoughts were cut short as his dad entered the dining area, carrying plates of delicious looking food, walking in with a smug look on his face, infuriating mom, knowing he had saved dinner and was the hero of kitchen.

Al rolled his eyes at our dad, and then bugged out when Francis set the steaming plate of food in front of him. Matthew would've too, if he wasn't used to this kind of style. He had to admit, it looked like it was from a gourmet restaurant. But Papa had cooked like this all of the time when it was just him and Matthew living in France. That is, until his papa had met Alice, Alfred's mother. Alice and Francis bicker all of the time, but love each other nonetheless in their own unique way. It was kind of cute, actually, though Matthew would never admit it. Looking up, he saw Al practically inhaling his food, like some kind of human vacuum cleaner. It was almost a talent. Thinking this, Matt started laughing, drawing attention to himself. Earning questioning looks from everyone, he just looked down and tried ignoring them. ....until the pestering started.
"Mattie, what are ya laughing about?"