The Fight for Survival

2. The old folk legend.

~~~~~~~~~~Tom P.O.V~~~~~~~~~

As I walked towards the White Gate, our small villages popular pub, I felt a small ripple of ice shiver up my spine. It was my strange sense, again. You see, every so often, I had my little "senses" or bad feelings, you could call them. Whenever one occurred, something horrible or morbid always followed, usually falling upon me and my usual bad luck.

But I just shrugged it off and continued off towards the pub.

I pressed my hands to the old wood of the large door and pushed it open, warm air welcoming me. My heart sank as everyone seemed to stop and stare at me, all icy and hostile glares set on me. I could feel daggers been thrown at me, hard, snarling faces circling me. I cast my eyes down to the floor and walked quickly up to the bar, pulled out a stool and sat.

I cleared my throat and ordered a coke from the stone faced bar man, he replied with a grunt and stomped away to get my drink. I felt eyes boring into the back of my head. I'd had about enough.

I was new in the village you see. Me and my mother moved here only a month back. Lets just say the locals didn't welcome newcomers with open arms.

I turned on my stool and caught sight of a small white haired women shooting frozen daggers at me, her cold brown eyes slicing into mine. I threw them right back, earning me a roll of the eyes and her back.

I know, I know. You must be thinking, surely all this hostility is a little too much just because we are new? Well yes. Yes it is. To be totally honest it isn't the only reason the locals aren't warm towards us. My mother and father used to live here as children and didn't exactly get on fondly with the rest of the village. So when my mother returned with fresh new meat to pound-- Sorry, I mean a son: Namely me, well, the villagers couldn't wait to rip into me.

I turned and let out a heavy breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, and as I did so I felt something... click, inside me. At fist I mistook it for the loud thud of the front door being opened and closed, but now I look back, it was definitely something being unlocked, opening a new bucket load of hell, just for me.

I took a sip of my drink, nearly spitting it all over the shining wooden bar as a cold breath washed over the back of my neck. I smashed my glass down on the bar and turned quickly, only to be face to face with a tall, wrinkled mysterious old man.

His wrinkled lips parted into a thin smile. He drew in a sharp breath, pulled out the stool next to me and sat, his mysterious blue eyes never leaving mine.

He opened his mouth to speak, his voice unexpectedly warm.

"You're Tom. aren't you?"

I was momentarily dazed, then thought through my options: Answer truthfully and say yes, or make this strange old man leave me the hell alone and hiss no.

"Uh... Yeah."

I offered, narrowing my eyes curiously. He nodded and smiled, like he already knew the answer was yes. For whatever strange reason, I somehow knew, that I had just became a part of something. Something strange, old, not quite right. I didn't like it. I wanted to grab my words and stuff them back in my mouth, hiss a no and make him leave.

His wrinkled lips parted once more, his eyes seemed a little softer.

"I have a story to tell you."

He mumbled simply. I did a double take, blinking rapidly at him, trying to make sense of what he'd just said.

A story? Yeah, more like an old folk legend. And why in hell would a complete stranger want to tell me a bloody story? I felt I was being played. But two could play his little game.

"Continue.."

I muttered, my tone bored.

"Long ago, the world was once peaceful and full of magic. It was ruled by the mighty dragons, the most powerful were the royal 5. Their names were--"

His voice cut short, and a small, sneaky smile spread across his face. He looked at me and shook his head, the smile lingering.

"Well, you'll find that out soon enough. But for now, back to the old world. So the 5 dragons stood for the pillars that held all time and space, ruled over the land and kept the balance. Their colours stood for each of the individual dragons powers: Red, blue, Green, Yellow. They were well respected and considered royalty in the old world. They-"

I frowned and rudely interrupted him.

"You only said four. You said there were 5 dragons which ruled over this... this old world. You only said, red, blue, green and yellow."

I grumbled to him, counting the four colours off on my fingers. He smirked and winked.

"Ah, Tom. As sharp as you were destined to be."

My sense niggled deep in the pit of my stomach, it rumbled up my throat, cold and clammy.

"Yes, the fifth dragon was purple. They were well respected and ruled, keeping harmony with their Elemental powers, watching over the land of mythical creatures. Then the humans came and began to des--"

Once again he stopped dead in his story, his eyes swimming with sorrow and loss. I leaned away from him. He really unnerved me. A lot. His mood changed quicker than me and my mother moving from town to town.

He stood, smiled at me thankfully and nodded.

"Thank you for you're time. You shall hear more when you're time comes."

And with that he turned on his heels, and calm as you like, walked from the bar.