Random Dream Smp Hcs

Fading

"I'm proud of you Tommy."

He wrapped his ghostly arms around his younger brother briefly, ruffling his friend's hair and whisking himself away as the sun set.

Time was running out. He knew that.

But there was one more thing he needed to do before he could rest.

He soared up, above the crater where his home, his country- used to stand. But that was behind him now. Over layers of oak trees, the broken community house, and many abodes of people he had once chatted and laughed with, he flew. He even spotted a few of the people he had once knew walking and bounding below his flickering form.

He was already forgetting their names by the time he blew past them.

There, that's what he was looking for.

A shoddily built cobblestone railroad, courtesy of the boy he had argued with not even five minutes ago. Quickly, he chased the twists and turns of the path, leading him right to the front door of his old base.

Pogtopia.

Though abandoned now, a few seeds and strings lay in long-forgotten chests, the remaining crumbs of a nation. His nation.

By now, with no upkeep, cobwebs had built up in the corners of the massive walls. The man even had spotted one glinting within a burnt-out lantern.

Buttons still covered the walls, the floor, the ceiling. He shuddered.
Even now, long after death, they still reminded him of his crimes.

However, he knew it wouldn't be long until he forgot them too.

Vines and moss crawled up the walls, and the damp darkness had ushered in its fair share of insects and plants.

Perfect.

Despite the slight dampness of the walls, the plants and buttons would catch wonderfully. He smiled slightly, knowing everything was falling into place.

But he would have to be quick.
With every passing second, his already feeble form was getting weaker.

He struck a match quickly, gliding down the stairs to a torn and decrepit flag.

His home, his nation.

He remembered how- after their initial exile- he and Tommy had stayed up all night collecting wool and sewing together patches of clothing to make this flag. The flag was dirty, shoddy, and torn to pieces, but it was theirs. It was a reminder of their home, their nation, that they had swore to reclaim many months ago. And just like their nation, he planned to burn it all to the ground.

He clutched the match tightly, not feeling as the fire grazed his hand.
Finally, his affinity for fire would be put to good use.

With a quick movement, he threw the match onto the old flag, which caught surprisingly quick. Fire crawled up the flag, turning the last inklings of his nation into ash. Sparks leapt to the wooden buttons and plants that grew off the walls, climbing higher and higher until the whole of the ravine was engulfed. Once-lit lanterns lit once more, only to crash to the ground and return to the Earth. Sparks and embers hit the ceiling, almost resembling stars to his shadowed eyes. Smoke stalked and crawled around him, and he smiled.

As fire licked his dissolving form, and as he forgot his country, his friends, and himself, a tear slid down his cheek.
And the man who had started this nation, fought with his friends for power, and eventually begged to be killed for what he had did,
smiled-
for he knew;

Some things are best left forgotten.

—*—
Here's the first one, all of my friends really liked it so I hope you did too. :)
600 words