Countryhuman Scraps, Story Ideas, and One-shots

Nouvelle France and Weimar Republic 1/?

"What's wrong Ame?" I asked.

"S-spider!" he shrieked and reared back. I watched as he shuffled quickly in the opposite direction of the cute little wolf spider. It was only about the size of my palm.

"She isn't that bad Ame," I informed as I reached down and let her crawl onto my open hand, "See, Ame. She's really friendly" I smiled at the arachnid.

I brought the spider closer to my brother to show him how cute she was. He did not like that.

America cried again and fell back into a stack of large wooden crates. Despite their age they were surprisingly sturdy, but there was one smaller cardboard box leaning on the very top of the stack that was knocked over. It hit the floor with a harsh thud and all of its contents were scattered on the floor.

I stood wide-eyed as papers and leather-bound journals were thrown across the attics' dusty ground. America had completely forgotten about the spider and was now intrigued with the aged parchment. My brother picked up a random book and attempted to read it's calligraphic title.

"M-mon?... mon! J-jouuurrnal... In...inti-inti-"

"Mon journal intime" I cut in, "It's French. It means diary." (2)

"oh.....OH!" America announced, "Let's read it!"

"What?! Why?" I shouldn't have been surprised, America was almost always like this. I just didn't want him to read, or force me to read, my old journal from when I was still a colony of France. When I was still Nouvelle France.

"Because there's got to be some juicy stuff in here!" America flipped through my journal quickly before turning it upside down and shaking it. A small folded piece of paper fluttered out and down to our feet. America looked at me then back to the paper.

"Ame don't-" I tried to say before he dove to the ground and snatched up the piece to see what it was. America unfolded the paper only to find more calligraphic writing he could not understand. He looked up at me and pulled his best 'I'm a kicked puppy' face.

"goodness Ame" I laughed, "Hand it over."

America smiled and picked himself off the floor before handing me the note. I read it over. It was written completely in German.

-------------------------

Lieber Kanta,

Gerne nenne ich Sie einen meiner wenigen Freunde. Ich werde dich sehr vermissen und hoffe, dass ich eines Tages dein Land besuchen kann, so wie du meins und das meines Vaters hast.

Mit großer Liebe,

Weimarer Republik~

------------------------- (3)

I almost blushed at the note. It had been so long since I had been given this. It has been so long since then-

"So, what does it say Nada!" America interrupted me from my thoughts.

"I-... It- it doesn't matter..." I replied slowly, my mind wasn't fully there. I quickly wiped my head of old thoughts and perked up, "It's just a stupid note I got from someone years ago. I can't even read it!"

I could, and I knew exactly what it meant.

I smiled at my brother and neatly stuffed the note into my pocket. I needed to think of something that could get me out of having to explain it to my brother.

"I think that I'm going to make us a pot of tea. Just be careful when going through my stuff!" I told him as I turned around to leave the stuffy space and its old clawing memories.

Later that evening

I was pacing around my bedroom with the note in my hand.

'Why is this stressing me out? It's just a freaking note!'

A note given to me by Germany. No, Weimar Republic. That was what Germany used to go by back then.

'Calm down Nada. It's just a note.' I tried to settle myself down 'Get some sleep or you will be up all night.'

I sighed heavily. I climbed into bed and pulled the covers all of the way up to my chin.

'Yeah, sleep sounds good. Maybe I won't be so bothered about a piece of paper in the morning.'

I placed the small parchment on my nightstand and turned off my lamp. The room was bathed in darkness as I closed my eyes and slipped into the realm of sleep.

.

.

.

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Translations

French:

(1) - this f*cking thing

(2) - my diary

German:

(3) - (The entire note)

Dear Kanta,

I am happy to call you one of my few friends. I will miss you very much and hope that one day I can visit your land like you have mine and my father's.

With great love,

Weimar Republic~

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Words: 1406 (not including footnote)

Not too shabby I'd like to think.

Trying to stay historically accurate is going to be really hard in this one. Like holy heck- Why must you Europeans fight so freaking much! You're making my research for this a lot harder then I want it to be.

Also, did you know that a 'scuttle door' is the name of the door you use to enter an attic? I think that's somewhat interesting.

Have a good morning/day/night and give yourself some love!

Cheers, Nimbus