Halloween Trick (Alternative Ending)

America let out a sigh.

Had it not been for the insanely difficult boss level on his video game, he probably wouldn’t even care how long he had been waiting for. After all, he trusted that you’d soon come out that room and tell him that everything’s ready to go so he could go get Arthur and scare the bananas out of him.

However, you had been in that specific area for a while now, half an hour to be exact; and although America never truly liked to admit it, he knew he wasn’t the   most patient of people.

In fact, he was so restless that by the time the boss bitch killed him for the seventh time (which resulted in a loud shout of protest from the victimised American), the blonde-haired dork decided he had enough of being murdered over and over again. So, as a result he finally got up from his seat from the floor (which hadn’t been the comfiest place on the planet), and threw the controller to his alien friend Tony, who caught it without even bothering to question America’s motives and continued to play in his place. After all, it was pretty evident that he had given up after the numerous protests he had shouted at the television screen.

As he walked over to the door, America had a moment of doubt, only because he knew you weren’t going to be happy with America’s sudden outburst. You didn’t have much tolerance for his eagerness without consequence. Although the uncertainty quickly flashed out of America’s mind as his curiosity weighed more than his control.

A large bang came from the door that barricaded you from America. Though when not even a pipe of a squeak came as a reply, the young nation continued to cause a racket on the door to try and catch your attention. “Yo dudette! Are you done yet? This is taking for-EVER!”

No reply.

That was strange, America was sure you would have heard that. Expectantly, America thought you’d at least shout out a response to his question, but nothing came. In fact, the only thing America heard in return was a slight knocking, which America guessed was coming from outside in another house (since after all, people were trick or treating).

Before America could reason with himself of an explanation, his mind secretly started to panic and imagine every worst-case scenario he could come up with in such a short amount of time. Maybe the fact it was Halloween, where supernatural phenomenon’s happened all the time, was messing with his logical side and causing him to get into a frenzy, or maybe it was just his impatience picking out excuses to amuse himself, but whatever it was, it definitely influenced America to grab the door handle and open the door quickly, relieved that you hadn’t locked the room when you had shooed him out the space.

He entered the room and immediately gagged upon the sight.

His mind had been set spinning, and the only way to keep himself up straight from his brain being so scattered was by gripping the doorframe with every bit of his might. He shivered coldly, but America couldn’t decide if it was because of the bloody sight or because of the chilling breeze that was being welcomed into his house from the open window nearby, who seemed very content with crawling across all of America’s skin in his weakest state.

You lay there. Smack on in the middle, your eyes as wide as saucers and your mouth open in a shape like ‘The Scream’. America could smell metal in the air, but he soon covered his mouth and nose and looked away in disgust as he realised that the smell in the oxygenated space was in fact your blood that still looked freshly stained on the carpet, most likely from the stab wound that you had been given on your heart by a knife that still stuck up from your body.

America’s senses were bursting with scents and sights that he hadn’t had to process for a long time (after all, he was a country), and it took every will in his body to move away from the doorway and towards you with light footsteps; as if any loud racket would jolt you back up like a vengeful spirit.

“(Y-Your name)…?” America mumbled in disbelief, “B-but… How…?”


He couldn’t hold himself up any longer. He fell to his knees. With a shaky hand, he grazed your cheek, which was cold and icy as if Death had stolen you away to take you to lands vast with frozen wastelands and chilly weather.  The flapping of the curtains had grown more violently, and were the only noise besides America’s whimpering. America was a tough nation; he had forced himself to grow to be one, but you… Not you.

The room was dark and the westerner could just feel the taste of cheeseburgers and a milkshake threatening to burst out of his mouth like a shower. America wanted to beg for you to wake up, to get up and say ‘just kidding!’, but he couldn’t form the right words in the right order to spit out of him.

Instead, the only reaction he could do was allow his eyes to impersonate waterfalls as the caverns of his face curved its rocky cliff for the water to pour in a dramatic frenzy, trailing to the thirsty mouth at the bottom.


“(Y-Your name)’s dead…” it was the only thing he could think of. The only thing he could repeat.

America leaned down: towards your eyes, towards your face, towards your lips. He tried to find amusement that you still managed to stay beautiful, despite your expression, but instead all but a shaky smile could form from his foolish thinking.

He wasn’t ready for this. Halloween’s not like this anymore, it’s full of children, happy children, who trick and treat and try to get as many sweeties they can carry, for adults to dress up their children with fun costumes, for people to play silly pranks and throw stupid parties for the hell of it. Not this. Not this fucking mess.

His mind wasn’t in the right state. He knew that, and maybe it was his hallucination, or maybe he really had heard it but he swear on his life he heard a simple phrase…


“Boo.”

Instinct won first place rather than logic, and America didn’t even bother to hide the outburst of surprise as he quickly got up and ran out the room. His mentality at the moment was shaken, and he did not want to be around anything that wasn’t supposed to even be talking in the first place, whether or not his imagination had made it up. No offence.

However, if America had stayed, maybe he would have heard the rather giddy chortles that had now turn into full blown laughter.

A figure crawled into the room from the window, though it was proving hard since he couldn’t calm down his obsessive laughter, his eyes nearly watering just from how much breath his body was demanding back.

“That was priceless.” England stated, emerald eyes glimmering with amusement, “Did you see his face (Your name)? He looked so-“

England stopped midsentence as he noticed something particularly odd.

Why weren’t you saying anything?


He moved his attention towards you, where you still laid face up on the floor, not even a twitch moving your body.

Raising an eyebrow, England was confused by the lack of action. Despite the fact that he had come a minute later than he had wanted to, so only arriving just as America had found you, he already knew the whole plan of why you were really on the floor. After all, he was the mastermind behind it: make America ask you to help him with his prank, hide in the room and pretend to be dead. Simple plan, but all Arthur needed was a simple plan if he was to fool the gullible American he once called a brother long ago.

“Love?” England announced louder than before, thinking that maybe you just hadn’t heard him. “You can get up now, America’s gone.”


When he still got no response, he started to knit his caterpillar eyebrows together in a frown.


“(Your name)? Are you even listening to me?” England questioned in agitation as he walked towards your unmoving body with a huff, “You better not be playing one of your teasing games again, I’ve had enough of them for one day.”


As he approached your body, he watched as every part of you looked a lot sicker than usual. In fact, he couldn’t help but find this all a bit odd, since you were the sort of person to always respond as long as it wasn’t about anything stupid – after all, you were a rather talkative person. Knowing you though, you’d be giggling inside to prank him like this for, as you quoted, ‘the Halloween spirit’.

England glared at you. “(Your name), this is getting ridiculous, now get up already.”

He leaned down and grabbed your hand, but quickly dropped it as he was surprised by how limp and lifeless it felt.

Clutching his own hand, England stared at the hand he had just picked up, at the ‘fake’ blood spilled across his boots that was starting to look a lot more authentic than he had first identified, at the knife that looked like it was very deeply stuck in your chest, at the expression on your features and how it seemed very, very permanent.

England kneeled down gently, and was surprised by how warm the red liquid around him felt.

His heart dropped at the sudden realisation.


“(Your name)…?”