The group didn't know how much time had passed out in the real world, hours, minutes, second. No one knew. They couldn't tell. But in the hall they were trapped in told them it was just pass eight-thirty. Considering that they had started the meeting at around five in the afternoon and finished roughly about seven-forty-five, it have only been forty-five minutes since they started the invasive journey through Alfred's head.
It felt wrong to many of them.
It felt wrong to peer into the private life of the american. To watch all the horrible and sad moments through his time, to witness the joy and bittersweet days with his loved ones. They didn't want others to do it to them, why did they have to do it to him? What was their purpose of being there? Were they supposed to watch their actions against him and apologize for it?
"There's only one door left in the first hallway," Alfred sighed looking at the last door. It stood in the center of the end wall, no light shone upon the oak and the the usual gold of the doorknob was now brass. It looked corroded. The natural shine now matted and green bag to creep up from the base and from the underside of the handle. "What's inside, I don't want to see."
" 'll go f'rst," Berwald made his way to the front of the group and, with much strength and force, turned the handle and opened the door. On the other side, the sun was barely touching the horizon on the atlantic ocean. Now that there was light they could see the state of the door. The polished wood was replaced with a rotting grey material. Holes and chunks of the once sturdy wood now gone and had left the door forever. The engraving on it didn't have the gold or silver in it, it was left bare and read 1-15. Where it was done beautifully and carefully, appeared to be done hastily, scratched into the wood.
"Where are we?" Francis asked, arms wrapped around himself to try and keep warm in the cold air.
"I know where we are," Arthur said and ran head through the line of trees. The others following suit except the twins. They didn't want to watch the scene again, didn't want to relive the cold and dark memory. So they stood by the door, behind the trees they were thankful blocked them from what lay ahead. But the group. The group who followed Arthur to the otherside, who followed him to the lost colony, had chosen to watch.
"Angleterre, where are we?" Francis asked once more when they came out from the forest line.
"My lost colony, Roanoke," Arthur spoke in a daze. He didn't know what happened to them, they suddenly vanished with nothing left behind but their homes. And there in front of them was the wooden wall his people built to protect themselves, a closed gate at the entrance and a sign with the name 'Roanoke' etched into it with care. "The people--my people--disappeared with no trace of them left. I didn't believe Ralph Lane when he told me and the parliament that they left, but what happened, no one knows."
"But its in Alfred and Matthew's memory, they know," Yao said. "Look there they are."
Coming out of the forest were the younger twins, hand in hand walking to the entrance of the colony. They were a bit older this time where they were about four in the previous memory, here they were around six, maybe seven. Brown leather hides wrapped around their waist and leather boots on their feet. A matching beaded necklace on their shoulders and one in the Matthew's hand. "Kuruk, do you think the person in there is like us?"
"I don't know, Kwahu." Matthew answered. "Do you think he wants to play with us?"
"I don't know. We didn't tell mama where we're going, will she be mad, Kuruk?" Alfred stopped in front of the gate, worry filled his eyes as he peered into the busy little village. "Will the people in there be nice? Will they be mean?"
YOU ARE READING
House of Memories 《Hetalia》
ФанфикA person's mind works in strange, wonderful, and dumb ways. When you're falling asleep, horrid memories from your past haunt you and keep you up in embarrassment or of guilt. For Alfred F. Jones those memories are the reason he is trapped within his...