Tales of Crazy: RusAme short stories

Celebrities

*America*

I sit in the small clearing, deep in the woods, near the small lake and gentle stream.

I grip my guitar tightly.

I'm famous for my songs, so I hardly get any time to be alone.

I sit still, enjoying the peace and quiet away from the paparazzi and crazy fans. Away from everyone.

I'm mostly known for my singing, but I do play the guitar as well. I've never played it for anyone before.

I strum the strings to one of my favorite tunes while sitting on a boulder near the stream. I have a hoodie and leggings on. They aren't expensive clothes, so I'll blend in more.

My cheap sunglasses help hide my face a bit more, but not really.

My hood is up, which prevents me from seeing to the left or right.

I continue playing my guitar to one of my favorite songs by someone else.

Halfway through, I hear someone singing the song. I continue playing, but feel more tense, hoping hey don't walk over and recognize me.

We finish the song, and the other person claps. "You're very good at playing the guitar."

I nod for a thank you. I'm too scared to talk right now.

I feel something warm next to me.

The girl leans on me, asking. "Why're you wearing that hood? If you can play that good, then surely you must look good as well. I wonder if you can sing as good as America!"

I grip my guitar tighter, and start to get up, but she. grabs my arm.

She happily talks about all the things she wants to do with me, specifically America.

"I wanna date him because he's so hot! Then maybe have kids with him! And he can be my sugar daddy!"

I wrench my arm out of her grip and run away. She chases me. I cling to my guitar.

I glance back and still see her following me. I run into someone. I fall to the ground, holding my hood so it doesn't fall down.

I look up through my sunglasses. Russia is looking down at me.

He glares at the girl. "Leave him alone."

The girl walks away. I get pulled to my feet, causing my hood to fall down.

Everyone stares at me, their jaws dropping to the floor. Except for Russia, who doesn't seem fazed.

He holds out his hand, close to my guitar. Suddenly the whole crowd is grabbing at me, trying to take it.

I cling to it. Russia pulls me out of the crowd easily, carrying me and my guitar away to safety.

Everyone starts chasing us. I strap the guitar to his back to make running easier. He mutters a thanks, continuing to run. Suddenly a smaller crowd leaps in front of us.