Hetalia One-Shots

PruCan : Forest Spirit

  Lost surrounded by tall, intimidating trees is a feeling Gilbert loves. Spending his days wandering through the shrubs and under the veil the canopy provides was a daily routine for the albino. Each sound has its meaning, each scent comes from somewhere specific, each creature has its story. Everyday something new would spring up. Every time Gilbert set foot in his forest he discovered something else.

  That day, busy listening to the birds' cheerful chirps, the teenager strayed from his usual stroll. He wound up deeper in the woods and further away from the plump bushes he loved to stroke as he ambled. The trees began to part and the dirt turned into fresh grass, colorful flowers sprouting between the tall, green blades. Gilbert looked around in awe and skipped through the soft meadow.

  A broad, giant oak tree emerged from the soil and reached out far away, it's furthest branches tickling the leaves of neighboring trees. The tall grass progressively became shorter around the roots. Small patches of flowers grew under the tree's branches. A single gray stone pierced the moss, standing out of the natural picture.

  Gilbert walked towards it and crouched down in front of it. His fingers traced over the polished surface and read what was written on it.

  "Matthew Williams. 1929-1947."

  It was a tombstone. The albino fell on his behind and rested his chin on his knees pensively. There was a grave lost in the middle of the forest surrounded by nothing but vegetation. It didn't seem anyone was depositing any flowers or condolences for a long time already. The boy stood and picked some of the nearby poppies, attaching them together with a long grass blade. He placed the flowers on the soil in front of the gravestone and bit his lips in thought. With a reluctant glance Gilbert left the area and made his way back to his house.

  Arrived at his home he immediately locked himself in his room. His computer buzzed and clanked as he turned it on. His fingers tapped on the keyboard and his eyes were glued to the screen. He searched every corner of the Internet trying to discover who Matthew Williams was and why his tomb was in such a secluded place.

*

  Weeks had gone by and Gilbert was obsessed with the strange stone. His strolls in the woods always lead him to the small field and his afternoons flew by as he sat against the gravestone. The albino read books, drew, took naps, all in proximity of Matthew Williams' tomb. A special sentiment filled him when he was under that grand oak tree.

  One day, as the boy was reading about deers, he felt a chill cripple down his spine. He shivered and shook his head. Suddenly, he saw a pale, white figure float in front of him. He shrieked and slammed back into the gravestone in fright. The spirit seemed unfazed and remained silent. It tilted its head and drifted closer to Gilbert.

  "Hi," it murmured with a smile.

  The albino blinked rapidly and scrunched his face in confusion. A flash of comprehension passed through his mind and he rummaged inside his back pockets.

  "You... You're," stuttered Gilbert taking out a wrinkled picture and holding it up to compare both faces, "Matthew Williams..."

  The boy stared in awe and lowered the picture. The ghost nodded timidly and pressed the top of his fingers together. Gilbert's mind filled with multiple questions he was eager to ask. He crawled up and folded his feet under himself. The transparent being awkwardly sucked on his lower lip and gazed away.

  "I... I wanted to thank you... For the flowers," he declared drumming his fingers against each other. Gilbert gasped quietly and glanced back to the gravestone where a fresh bouquet was resting against the polished rock. He chuckled and ruffled his hair.