Hello, lovely readers~! This is the first chapter of a new story I am working on.. mainly because I can't figure out how to continue any of my other stories quite yet.. eheheh.. ." Anywho, I apologize for the long paragraphs, I just got bored yesterday when we were eating Chinese, so we'll just see how this turns out~! And for the record, I'd say this is more of just background information before I get to the actual story.. Okey, I'll stop talking so you can just read the story.
Arthur ran as far as he could from the village into the thick foliage of the forest, his worn-out dark green cloak and small figure camouflaging him well enough as to not be found be the superstitious villagers that have been known to try to run after him with pitchforks in hand several times. Once he felt as though he was far enough to be safe from the horrid townspeople, he slowed down, though taking the precaution of climbing a tree just for extra distance if they had chosen to follow. Looking down at the torn loaf of bread he had managed to get away with, the child saw the condition he was in; his clothes were dirty and worn, the fabric weathered from the constant abuse inflicted on it by the seasons and often chases, and his skin was grungy with dirt and scraped and bruised. Scabs had been reopened from his recent encounter and another bruise was starting to form on his arm from where the baker had striked him for trying to steal the stale loaf. He had a few other superficial wounds from where other villagers had angrily kicked him as he dashed back into the shadows of his sanctuary. His dirty-blond hair was a tangled rats' nest which hadn't been washed for nearly months on end, and a small cut had been bleeding on his cheek almost directly underneath his weary emerald eyes.
The child glared at nothing in particular, tears threatening to fall down his face. Keeping quiet, other than, perhaps, the small sniffle, Arthur nibbled on the stale baked good before mumbling to no one but himself, "Stupid people. They won't even let me have a bloody piece of bread without trying to kill me!"
You see, the townspeople were that of a very naïve, superstitious village. They had heard of a small child, often wearing a cloak to shroud him with mystery, and a chilling glare that sent daggers with their cold, serpent-like touch, would curse all of those who came across his path. Over decades, he never grew, and, as the local folklore put it, he was a very strong sorcerer with almost as much darkness about him as Lucifer himself. And he was just as mad.
However, the legends grew more and absurd through their often gossip from gathering wives to stories told in the pub to the curious children, always excited for a new scare. Arthur was nothing near the devil; He was just a boy...well, actually, he was a nation personification ((oh hey, those two words rhymed! :D)). He was the country of England in the body of a human. No one truly knows why or how nations could possibly be human, but somehow, it was possible. He did not grow as a human grew in age, annually becoming older and older, but he grew as his nation grew and became stronger as his nation was built up. During the time these legends continued to manifest was a time when Arthur was still a young country, the people did not want to particularly spread out and conquer. Instead, they wished to remain in their own isles with Arthur's brothers, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. That was the main reason he seemed not to grow over the decades (though, he had grown a couple of inches taller, mind you!). The other rumours started about his curses and such were just as turned around as any other rumour one would hear passed around, as he did not know how to use much magic, though, if he could, he'd curse all of those blasted people who hurt him. Instead, he could see certain creatures of legend and folktale that were unseen by most. From faeries to dragons to trolls and anything in between, the boy could see, and was thought as mad because of it.
Now, by this time, the child had stated to grow tired. He had finished his small meal and was starting to climb down the tree, for sleeping on a branch would be rather dangerous if he were to turn in his sleep. Arthur jumped from the lowest branch, landing on the forest-floor with a small thud as his old, worn leather shoes his the ground. He walked slowly through the forest, as it had been his home for quite a while now, and made his way to the area he usually slept. Some of the kinder faeries and sprites kept the site hidden and as well-kept as could be for a small hideout in the wood, and Arthur was always thankful for their assistance. Yawning softly, Arthur went over to the spot he slept in and curled in a ball for warmth as he did every night. A couple of the faeries that kept a watchful gaze over the child smiled tenderly before covering him with a small, ragged blanket. Soon enough, the boy had drifted to sleep where his dreams eagerly awaited him.
Well~? How's that for a sort of prologue? Any words I've missed or grammar I need to correct? So far, good, bad, getting fairly interested in it or not? I'd love to hear feedback, and if you guys have any ideas for things that could happen, I'd love to hear! Also, anyone have ideas for what the other UK brothers' names are? I do believe Scotland's usually known as either Allistor or William, but there are A LOT of fan-names for Wales and Ireland, so I'm not quite sure what I should use.. ;-; Quite possibly be inserting them in the story fairly soon~
Bluh, since I'm being piled with homework, I won't have much time to work on this story, but I'll try to update it once a week or so.
Hope you guys have a lovely day, thank you so very much for taking time to read this~! ^^