The Dragon Tales

The Dragon Tales

Growing up in Europe means reconnoitring the most beautiful places on earth. And it was my turn. It was my first time out of Stockholm. I went on our first trip to Barcelona. Alejandro's family lived in Barcelona. Also at that time we were enjoying the winter holidays at our Franska Skolan Ecole Fransaise school. The winter in Barcelona was far less stronger than that of Stockholm. All accoutred in the winter wears we were all set to take off to the lands of dreams and magic.

Alejandro's family lived in an apartment in Calle Montsió street. He had a big house. Much bigger than the one I lived in. The floor looked like an endless loop of chess board pattern. The doors were highly glossed wooden masterpieces, carved on them were arts which my mind refused to recognise. I received unending and unconfined love from his mother for being his only friend at Stockholm.

For the first three days we covered visiting Catalonia's architectural wonders designed by Gaudí, the Geniuses of Art. We started with the unfinished mästerverk; Casa Milá aka La Pedrera. Followed by Chinese touched work of Casa El Capricho; the highly iron finished work of The Güell Palace; the towering pillars of The Sagrada Familia Church; the slanting and brutally styled pillars of the Güell colony; the trefoil shaped balconies of Casa Batlló; and not forgetting the Greco-Roman works of the Güell Park. The last place we visited was the modernised Güell Wine Cellars, which was build just before Charles Rennie Mackintosh undertook a similar looking work in Scotland. There we tasted one of the finest wines.

We roamed across the streets eating Pinchitos, Empanada and Bocadillo. We stood in the middle of the La Salut, in front of the Güell Stables. My eyes couldn't find a way out of that dragon ironwork at the gates. The jet black dragon rested on the gate, spreading it's wings, with a wide opened mouth that clearly showed it's dissected tongue. It represented evil, horror and dreadfulness of the dark side of man. I couldn't help myself but imagine what if it existed in reality.

We returned back to Calle Montsió by night fall. We both couldn't sleep. We were too excited to explore the medieval structures at Peratallada, a small village near Barcelona. The night was freezing but that couldn't freeze my imaginations. Deep inside the warm sheets, I took myself back to the days when Spain was just building up.

We took the morning's first bus at six to Peratallada. The city shone by the thin white blanket which was starting to cover it up. Our flesh became tight by that two hours drive. We reached Peratallada by eight. There we stopped by at café named Ele Quatre Gats. It was situated on a narrow street and was an open place. The entire place was brick made, with flaked off paint and each building aroud it had a protruded black railed balcony. The gates of the buildings were petal shaped, each decorated with tiny dragons' heads and bodies. The place was nothing different from what I read in George Orwell's Homage to Catalonia. The fragrance of the beauty asked me not to leave it.

"Vincent you should try our coffee. It's completely different. Ever heard of rum in coffee?" Alejandro ordered us Spanish special coffee and plate full of Filipino. We were monstrously gulping our food when a loud voice dragged all our attention. At the door a old man, a pale looking old man dressed in rages was shouting at a man. This other man was dressed like us. The old man was ragging with fire.
"Gorn will come tonight! Gorn will come! He will burn the city. He'll burn all you. Burn all his disbelievers. The dark souls of the city shall turn into Ashes. Blood moon will take its revenge!"
For a moment I completely took myself as an outlander. I understood nothing. Gorn? Blood moon? I did nothing other than watching Alejandro's face without an expression.
"Sorry Vincent I nearly forgot to mention this to you. Tonight is Luna de sangre, I mean blood moon's night. It is believed by the people that Gorn, a medieval period dragon has been protecting Barcelona. He has been caged in the land of Celts. On every Blood Moon's night he frees himself to save the city from the dark souls. The blood moon night is the night when sun turns into darkness and moon into the Blood..."
I felt Alejandro was building himself a
chimera by saying all these. Everything was like a fantasy but I didn't stop him. Somewhere I was enjoying it. My interestedness in myths gained back it's life.

The old man kept shouting with periodic coughing at the disbelievers of Gorn. Between all that brawling and shoutings I caught a sight of a kid. A half naked kid hiding behind the Old man's ragged clothes. He was continuously gazing at our plate filled with Filipino. The watering mouth gave out saliva which he didn't care to smudge. I went to the counter and bought another plate of Filipino. As I took the seat, to keep myself out of the sight of the irate man, I gestured at the kid to come along. But he refused and hid further deeper behind the old man showing me only one eye. Then I held the plate of bread all gestured him again. Like a furious bull he rushed at me and snatched as much breads his hands could hold and ran away. He didn't bother to say a thank you. He ran away and hid completely behind the blazing man.

The other man, the moderately dressed man irritated him by saying; "Old man what do you know of science, eh? Blood moon is a science effect there's no Smaug coming in here!"
The crowd outside the stall grew terribly. The owner requested them to empty the place if they had no plans for eating or buying anything.

All these fuss didn't alter our plans to visit Peratallada wall and moat, Portal de la virgen and Plaza de Les Voltes. We wandered across the streets buying, eating, drinking and capturing as many moments we could. The town kept all its old feudal looks and from every corner one could see the fortress around the town. The village seemed to have been taken out from a fairy tale. It still preserved its medieval streets, pebbles in the floor, stone houses with beautiful flowers and plants decorating the façades. The market sold varieties of paper toys, one of which included the Gorn the dragon's balloon. In Alejandro's absence I bought myself one of those.
That day they had no snow but the chilling winter gave everything a vintage look.

Night fell when we reached our lodge El cau del papibou. My feet refused to walk or move a distance further. I laid flat on the bed. We both had one window at our side. I turned my head towards the window trying to see though the dense mist and fog. I felt I was hallucinating. Something was rising between the thick blanket of fog. It was encircling. I couldn't see anything other than a silhouette of something flying in a low sky. My eyes gave way. My legs regained it's strength. I rushed at the window and hurriedly lifted it.
"Fire! Fire! Fire broke out in the thugs' streets! Bless Gorn! Bless him!"
A man ran shouting saying the same lines again and again.

Alejandro and I like other villagers ran out into the open fields to get a glance of the myth. Voices echoes all around. People talked so much. Fear, terror, excitement filled people's lungs. Many began to cook up their own tales.
"Fire, another fire broke out in the next street. The politician house is burning! The coward house is burning!"
Another man came back with news running across streets to streets. The silhouette didn't change its direction and was going on encircling in an infinite loop.

A shrill cry dragged out attention. A little girl was vigorously crying. She was lost I thought. Alejandro took the responsibility of finding her parent and asked me to wait.
As the night got more freezing the moon tore the clouds and showed itself. Red as my blood. It gave out red luminescence and through the arms of the fog it glowed like a shining bulb. Suddenly I fell on the ground. For a moment I thought the dragon pushed me. I widened my pupils to see through. They were two men, covering their faces and were running. They were in a great hurry. I'd hurt my elbow by the fall and I wanted them to confess. I ran after them. They made me pass through extremely narrow passages that existed in that village. The place was stinking my nose. I was taken to the moth-eaten part of Barcelona. The houses were built of rotten wood. It gave away a smell of dampness. Beyond me there was a small open ground which was guarded by the flickering glass lamps. Kids with naked torso, shivering with cold played on the ground with a mud colored football. I stood there relentless, without moving a foot veiled in the shadows. I felt a jerk when I saw the cake boy running on the play ground with his mates. The boy I met in the cafe. His nose continuously gave out thick fluid which he didn't care to wipe. He played cheerfully. At the same time one of those men who covered their faces lifted the cake boy and held him tight in his arms. The boy giggled. The kid removed his mask and giggled again. I felt like I fell down from a cloud. He was the old man in the cafe. The ragging old man. But I was shocked to see his new avatar. He cheerfully played with the child without shouting or howling at anyone. A mark of peace outlined his face. At his leg was a white jar which he'd put down to lift the kid up.
"Bring the drinks! Men, Let's celebrate the moment! In the name of Gorn. Retribution is done!"
He screamed in his cough filled voice. The men around that area set up a table and started drinking. The women accompanied them in dance. He enjoyed the very moment laughing and drinking. I smiled at myself by thinking how these people tried to find happiness in every little thing.

I didn't wanted to get caught. I immediately emptied the place and went back.

"Vincent where on earth had you been?"
"I wanted to see to dragon a little closer.."
"Anyways, the cops figured the men who set the fire. Unfortunately they ran away."
"Men?" I gave him an invalid expression.
"The fire in the street were made intentionally. Cops doubt this is the work of slum people. Two men were seen running away. Unfortunately cops couldn't see their faces. They were holding jars of flammatory in white jars."
I knew I'd all kind of answer to every questions of Alejandro. But something stopped me from revealing a word. But my ghost face made him ask further more questions.
"Are you all right, Vincent?"
"Yes. Yes. I mean no. I dropped my phone somewhere. Do one thing, go back to the lodge, I'll be back in minutes."
"You sure?"
"Yes you go."
I just wanted to go back there once again. I wanted to see what that blackout thing circling in the sky was. I passed again through the narrow streets and again stood at the same spot, hiding behind the darkness. All the men of the compound were standing in a line. Standing at the front was a tall man, dressed in fine clothes. Every men left the line after receiving a thing. Two euros. In the beginning I didn't understand a thing. Moments later something was being got down. Four men were lowering strings or roops. When the object finally got down my blood dried. It was the dragon. A kite like thing which was made to look like a dragon. Those men folded it and put that thing back in a box. For the next blood moon night I thought. I finally gained my common sense. Those men in the line were getting paid. Paid for breaking the fire and bringing the fool out of people. I didn't understand what was this thing for. For revenge of the poors from the rich? For retribution or for preservation of the myths stored in their books and hearts? I knew the thing they did was wide of the mark. But at the same time the sufferings and misery of these people sealed my mouth. The rich man bought everyone of them for two euros. And they had no complains. He drove away in his luxurious car and the sweeter missing kids ran after it until it vanished in the city lights.

Darkness enveloped all of us in the shadows as the night gained it's fresh snow flakes. The oldman looked pale and fragile. He handed the cake boy a dragon balloon, a similar one which I owned and carried him on his shoulders. The wrinkles of strains on his faces revealed his weakness. The cake boy bounced it, swirled it in the slow moving wind. The old man kissed his leg and faded into their warm hut. The blood moon was woken up by the crispy chilling weather, so was I. I traced my footsteps back into the imposter world.