I would love some input on this.
Posted: 13 Dec 2014, 21:51
I know that requesting an official review is prohibited, but I would love some of your opinions on this. It is the prologue to something I have had floating around in my mind for awhile. Basic back story: It is a fantasy world, similar to medieval Europe. The girl will be taken to a special convent, trained in warfare, potions/poisons/herbals, and taught a form of witch craft that is gifted by a goddess, but only to those girls and women who have proven themselves worthy. These women are not allowed to love, to experience passion or mother hood. She rebels against it and falls in love with the boy she is called to sacrifice once she has received the gift from the goddess. I am really struggling with how to write this without being cliche, over the top, or something that has been over done. I don't want it to be a love story, just want to include love as part of her story, the first defining moment in the rest of her life. I want action and adventure, mystery, growth and learning, maybe some betrayal. I am far from close to starting.
Basically..I have my prologue. What do ya'll think so far?
Prologue
The child looked around her, confusion plain on her pale face. Grey stones rose from the mists, like sentinels glaring down upon her. She raised her hand to catch a snowflake on her palm, and jumped, the small gray flake left a red welt. Ash. An acrid, horrid smell burnt its way into her lungs.
"Hello?" she asked in a trembling voice. It echoed eerily through the dark.
The girl started walking, meandering, really, through the tall stones. Silent tears streamed gritty tracks down her face. Small holes from wandering ash burnt through fabric to scald her tender skin.
Suddenly she stopped, her whole body quivering. The mist was changing, pulsating a pale, sickly green. A scream wrenched past her lips. The light had illuminated what the fog had hidden. The stones. Gravestones. Hundreds of them. Carved in circular patterns were strange runes. It was from these runes that the odd green light was emanating.
One marker, larger than the others, loomed before her. As the green light grew stronger, she could barely make out three shapes beneath it. The girl managed to take one step, then one more, before fainting.
At the base of the tombstone were the bodies of her family.
The girl had the same dream every night for two weeks. Then suddenly, it was gone. A night of peace and innocence. It would be her last.
When she woke, it was to a city pulsating with screams of terror and wails of panic. The word was whispered frantically among the rich, wrenched from the poor.
Plague.
Its destruction was swift and fierce. No home was left untouched. The girl’s father fell first, he managed to last two weeks. Her mother didn't last two days. The wracking coughs tore the babe from her belly long before his time.
She huddled in a corner, small fist pressed tight against her lips. The midwife worked frantically, trying to staunch the blood. Every time she managed to halt it, another fit of coughing would shake through her mother’s body, and the bleeding would begin again.
Eventually the midwife gave up. They all did. No one tried to fight the sickness, the carts stopped coming, and bodies lay where they fell. And one small girl knew the truth.
She had brought the epidemic.
Basically..I have my prologue. What do ya'll think so far?
Prologue
The child looked around her, confusion plain on her pale face. Grey stones rose from the mists, like sentinels glaring down upon her. She raised her hand to catch a snowflake on her palm, and jumped, the small gray flake left a red welt. Ash. An acrid, horrid smell burnt its way into her lungs.
"Hello?" she asked in a trembling voice. It echoed eerily through the dark.
The girl started walking, meandering, really, through the tall stones. Silent tears streamed gritty tracks down her face. Small holes from wandering ash burnt through fabric to scald her tender skin.
Suddenly she stopped, her whole body quivering. The mist was changing, pulsating a pale, sickly green. A scream wrenched past her lips. The light had illuminated what the fog had hidden. The stones. Gravestones. Hundreds of them. Carved in circular patterns were strange runes. It was from these runes that the odd green light was emanating.
One marker, larger than the others, loomed before her. As the green light grew stronger, she could barely make out three shapes beneath it. The girl managed to take one step, then one more, before fainting.
At the base of the tombstone were the bodies of her family.
The girl had the same dream every night for two weeks. Then suddenly, it was gone. A night of peace and innocence. It would be her last.
When she woke, it was to a city pulsating with screams of terror and wails of panic. The word was whispered frantically among the rich, wrenched from the poor.
Plague.
Its destruction was swift and fierce. No home was left untouched. The girl’s father fell first, he managed to last two weeks. Her mother didn't last two days. The wracking coughs tore the babe from her belly long before his time.
She huddled in a corner, small fist pressed tight against her lips. The midwife worked frantically, trying to staunch the blood. Every time she managed to halt it, another fit of coughing would shake through her mother’s body, and the bleeding would begin again.
Eventually the midwife gave up. They all did. No one tried to fight the sickness, the carts stopped coming, and bodies lay where they fell. And one small girl knew the truth.
She had brought the epidemic.