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America, A History 6Aztec strolled along the shores of la Golfo de México, her once colorful dress was worn and could almost be classified as rags. The beautiful sleeveless blouse was now dulled with time, wear, and tarnish. Her wrap-around skirt fluttered in the quaint breeze and she shivered. Aztec stopped walking and watched the waves of la Golfa de México absentmindedly, digging her bare toes into the sand.
'Golfa de México,' she thought. She would never say it out loud, of course. Or not in front of, at least, Mr. Spain. He would be angry with her again. Neither she nor her people ever understood why they weren't allowed to speak the same language as the Conquistadors.
But that didn't mean that they didn't learn. The Spaniards spoke amongst themselves, laughing and eating and drinking Aztecs and her sisters' hard work. But she still listened. She's much more attentive than her brother.
'Speaking of him,' Aztec thought, sitting down in the sand and wrapping her arms around her knees. Sh
America, A History 5Even as the three foreigners stared at him in disbelief, America just smiled, flushing slightly. He liked the attention he was receiving, however dangerous what he was doing might or might not be.
The foreigners just stared at him, making America fidget under their intent gaze. It was like they were trying to analyze every inch of him.
Suddenly, the two who were arguing earlier were at each other's throats in a split second and Mr. Finland was trying to pry them apart, speaking in a language that America couldn't understand. That wasn't how Mr. Finland had spoken to him before. The two men that he didn't know shouted and clawed at the other until they had finally calmed down. They realized that they were scaring the poor premature nation.
The two had continued arguing, but not attacking the other anymore. America was confused. 'Brother'? What was that word? That was a foreign word to him, but it was the only word he picked up. He did feel like these two were like him, but what exactly
America, A History 4The great ball of light that hung in the sky was lowering and the clouds were dusted a light pink. America sat alone, his legs hanging from the low-hanging tree and his back was resting against the smooth bark of the trunk. From his position on the winter-bare branches of the tree, he was able to see just about every inch of the prairie. The once-green blades of grass were golden in the dull, winter sun and winked in the cool breeze.
The blond sighed and shifted his body weight to his left side; his but was starting to hurt from sitting on the slim branch. America wanted to remove himself from the tree's branches and do something else, like his attention span told him to do, but he ignored the boredom and waited.
There was a foreigner. He would appear once, and then disappear before America had a chance to approach him. Well, he had his chances, but he had to decipher whether or not the foreigner was worth approaching. He had met face to face with him, though. Once, during that strange
America, A History 3America pushed the flaps covering the large tipi, sighing in contented happiness. He left the meeting area, humming an old campfire song and waving good-bye to his sons and daughters. It always brought him great joy to watch his many children interact with each other. Even though they didn't always get along and there was sometimes bloodshed, they still knew that they were siblings.
It had been a few days since Mr. Finland and Mr. Sweden had left the land. His interest in learning any more of the strange language was dashed and he couldn't interact with the weird foreigners. He had felt an odd sort of familiarity towards them, somehow.
America frowned and flipped his shoulder-length, blond hair out of his face. What was that feeling, anyway? He had never seen them before in his life; he didn't think so. Yet, he felt some sort of companionship with them. Did they feel the same way?
He shook the thought away and continued his way to his next destination: Massachusetts.
He was on his way
America, A History 2After the encounter with the strange foreigners, America had gone back to the small settlement that they were building. He suddenly realized that Mr. Finland and Mr. Sweden had no intention of going back on their giant rafts.
He did not hesitate to leave the cover of the brush and bramble to jog to the cabin closest to him. At the cabin, Mr. Finland was outside, helping Mr. Sweden unload the unnatural cubes that he later had learned were called "boxes".
America would talk with them; he in his language and they in their own language. The foreigners would show him interesting things, and he would show them the way of the land. They were apparently new to forestry.
It was subsequently later when he brought one of his own to greet them.
"Ah, hello!" Mr. Finland smiled warmly and Mr. Sweden just acknowledged the two with a slight nod of his head. "Who's this, America?"
America, who had picked up some of the foreigners' language, nodded and pointed to the smaller boy behind him. The boy behi
America, A History 1The bushes rustled and the bramble snapped underfoot. A lone figure snuck around curiously through the dark undergrowth and low-hanging trees. He blew a quick, angry breath towards the blond hair hanging in his face. When that didn't work and only served in tickling his ears, he attempted to smooth the cowlick back with a sweep of his hand.
The boy's face was painted and the clothes he wore were made of deer skin and sinew. He grunted, annoyed, and mumbled a few words in his own language, resuming his spying by crouching even lower to the earth and peeking out of the bushes cautiously and carefully, narrowing his cerulean blue eyes.
There were foreigners on his land. Strange men that had a lighter skin color than he. And their clothes were so odd
He hadn't realized that he had stuck his head out of the bush far enough to be noticed, until one of them turned around. This one had the same color hair that he had, which was odd. He was the only one in the land with that color. In fac
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More