| Welcome to Budding Writers! If you're seeing this message, you are currently viewing the forum as a guest. You should register if you want to post. Unless you're a spam bot. Then you probably shouldn't. |
| Wretches and Kings; A prologue to a story of mine | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Wednesday, 12. December 2012, 05:57 (162 Views) | |
| Whoopy4 | Wednesday, 12. December 2012, 05:57 Post #1 |
|
Love sick fool
|
So, I've had an idea for a longer story floating around in my for the last while, and it's started to take a more solid shape. I don't know if I plan on sharing the story as I go along. I think I'm just gonna keep it to myself until it's finished. However, I will give you a glimpse into the fantasy world I've created with a prologue. This was the second scene I came up with when the story plotting started to come together. It stems from the first scene I created which occurs till later in the story and I shan't give away any details should I happen to post the story, but it deals with one of the characters below. Anyways, constructive criticism is always welcome, as well I'd like to know if this prologue could be an effective hook for a story. Stories told that all newborns are quiet in the cave. The amount of crying her babe had done the past couple weeks had given Miri serious doubts to that claim. She cradled the small bundle in her arms. A small black nose poked out from the thin cloth and his right hand reached for her face. Water dripped from the cave walls, echoing around her. Her child was quiet. Further ahead, lay the pool, illuminated by a single, lit torch on the wall. Beside it, the old crone stood, hunched over, staring into the water. In her ear, Miri heard a whisper, “come.” Taking a deep breath, and holding her child close to her breast, Miri started towards the pool. The babe’s small, dark skinned hand gripped some of her black hair that had fallen over her shoulder. The crone’s bone-white hand lightly dragged across the water, sending ripples only inches away before dying into a calm serenity. Miri was glad that the crone concealed her face. The elderly in the village had always been a disturbing sight for her. Women in the village claimed that the crone was several decades older than any one in the village. As well, Miri had only seen four people of noble skin in her life time. When Miri was several paces from the hunched pile of skin and bones, the skeletal hand lifted from the water. Slowly, the hand gripped her hood and let it slide from her head. The face was pale and drained of all colours. The skin was sagging toward the chin, grotesquely trying to stay attached in a few spots. Hair was sparse on her head, revealing further wrinkles and sagging. The remaining hair was thin and brittle, but had not been cut in many years. Everything was a chilling white. The crone did not even spare colour for her eyes. They were a dull grey, where Miri’s were a dark brown. There were no pupils. The crone’s unblinking, unseeing eyes stared directly at Miri. Unable to maintain eye contact, Miri began to feign interest in the pool beside them. A whispered voice saying, “give me the child,” brought Miri’s attention back to the crone. The babe in her arms began to grow restless at her voice, but still did not make a sound. Miri saw neither malice nor deceit in the crone’s eyes. She saw nothing. That frightened her far more than any alternative. Without any other choice, Miri knelt down and carefully placed her child in the waiting hands of the old woman in front of her. Miri’s hands held for a moment, unsure if the crone’s frail hands could support more than a cup of water, but the moment the crone had a hold of the child, he had stopped moving, and stared at her. Once Miri removed her hands, the crone no longer paid any attention to her presence. Holding the child away from her body, the crone turned towards the pool. Slowly, she lowered the child until he was lying on the water. The ripples he made went noticeably farther than those made by the crone’s hands. Removing one hand from the child, the crone scooped a handful of water and drained it on the child’s head. The hand followed the water as she stroked the child’s head. Miri watched uncomfortably, fearing that a hand could slip, and her child would fall helplessly into the clear water. Managing to break her gaze over her child, Miri looked at the crone for a moment. Her eyelids were fluttering at a rapid pace. Her face was unmoving, but focused on the child in her arms. The child had fallen asleep in her arms. The moment her eyes returned to their open state, the crone began to lift the child from the water. Miri did not hesitate to have the child in her arms again. He woke the moment she touched him. With her arms cradled around her child, Miri looked to the crone. Her hood had been drawn over her head and face again, but an outstretched hand offered a jagged stone. “Your child will live past your own life.” The whisper brought a slowly spreading smile to Miri’s face. Feeling elated, she softly set her child down on a large, smooth stone. Careful not to touch the winkled hands, Miri grabbed the stone. She reached behind her head and grasped her dark black hair as close to the skin as she could. With the rock in her other hand, she cut through the hair. It had never been cut, and at seventeen summers, had grown well down her back. She felt the last hairs give away, but did not let them fall. “What of the rest of my child’s future. The women in the village say that you can tell what they will be like as men.” Miri looked at her child, staring at the flickering torch. The crone did not look at Miri. Instead its head tilted forward and stared at the pool. The whisper seemed to come from the air in the cave, and not the old woman before her. “Not all children become men. And no future can be known. Not by you, not by me, not by The Father and The Mother.” Miri looked at the ground, both disappointed and feeling foolish for believing in the tales. Before she could release the hair in her hand, the whisper continued, “But glimpses can be seen. The child, he will give light to some who are in shadows.” The crone paused to stare at the pool. “But for every man in the light, ten more will fall into the shadow he casts upon himself.” Confused, Miri looked to her child. “What do you mean?” If the crone was going to answer, she was interrupted by the child as it started to whimper. Miri didn’t know why, but she knew that no more answers were here. She let the hair fall to the ground. The dripping water from the cave walls filled the silence. As she picked up her child, Miri turned to return home. Only she would return as a mother. A mother to a child that would outlive her. |
|
Thing a day - My blog about the trials and tribulations of writing a piece of literature every day for a year. Days completed: 7 A more professional signature coming at a later date | |
View Profile |
|
| Dekky | Wednesday, 12. December 2012, 08:09 Post #2 |
|
The Rock Raptor
|
Crones, darkness, clear water, seventeen summers... looks like a great prologue to me, monsieur! I notice you haven't used many adverbs, which is very good, because I've been told they're a mortal sin. Anyhow. There's just one thing. Why has Miri cut off her hair? I'm guessing this may be explained in a later segment but I thought it was a little strange. ![]() Please sir, may we have some more? |
|
This week: I am now taking requests! If you want me to model something for you on 'Art of Illusion,' just send me a message. If you'd like to see samples of my work, check out my Art Topic! (hint: it's in the Art forum) | |
View Profile |
|
| Whoopy4 | Wednesday, 12. December 2012, 14:02 Post #3 |
|
Love sick fool
|
Thankya kindly for the reply. Avoiding adverbs is still something I actively have to remind myself but I do think I managed it pretty well here. As for cutting her hair, it is something that comes up again but I couldn't decide if I wanted it explained now or later. It's not a big plot point or anything. Just a cultural difference. In their culture, women cut off their hair when they become mothers to symbolize starting a new life . I might put that in the prologue later, but for now it's a mystery to the reader. |
|
Thing a day - My blog about the trials and tribulations of writing a piece of literature every day for a year. Days completed: 7 A more professional signature coming at a later date | |
View Profile |
|
| Dekky | Thursday, 13. December 2012, 01:32 Post #4 |
|
The Rock Raptor
|
Oh, that makes sense. Cool stuff
|
|
This week: I am now taking requests! If you want me to model something for you on 'Art of Illusion,' just send me a message. If you'd like to see samples of my work, check out my Art Topic! (hint: it's in the Art forum) | |
View Profile |
|
| Warrior Poet | Sunday, 6. January 2013, 07:16 Post #5 |
|
If you lead me, I will go.
|
This is a great way to start a story. You establish the pacing, tone and setting immediately. The first few lines were perfect. A few lines after that, there are some redundancies (you mention the child's skin tone again, for instance. once is enough). I guess not much happened here, but it's a great starting point for more things to happen. The underused African-esque setting will be enjoyable if you decide to continue it. One more thing - I don't care that Miri cut her hair. I know I kind of have a thing for hair, but hear me out. If the act of cutting hair is going to have any emotional significance, it has to be important to the characters. Maybe it's a part of the local culture, or it's personally important to someone (usually the owner of the hair). So far we don't know anything about the culture and we don't know how Miri feels about her hair. Maybe it means something later in the story, but it seems trite and unnecessary from here. It also strikes me as odd that she cut it with a rock, but whatever. |
|
Look carefully. There's something wrong with this picture. | |
View Profile |
|
| Whoopy4 | Monday, 7. January 2013, 05:50 Post #6 |
|
Love sick fool
|
The hair thing sounded a bit better in my head. For the most part I'm really trying to deviate from standard cultures and tropes in other stories. I'll continue experimenting with what I like throughout the writing. And yes, the african-esque setting you mentioned was a fun idea I had. I often like to notice in stories how authors will only have a couple token minority characters, and I wanted to do something a bit different. I also wanted to set that tone hard at the beginning that most of the characters will be black with a couple exceptions. Whenever a black character comes into play in a story, the author has to state every time that the character is black/dark skinned/ whatever other synonym for black they can find. I want to get away from that and generally just accept that my main cast(like I said with a couple exceptions) will be black. |
|
Thing a day - My blog about the trials and tribulations of writing a piece of literature every day for a year. Days completed: 7 A more professional signature coming at a later date | |
View Profile |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Sci-Fi / Fantasy · Next Topic » |






Cool stuff
2:07 PM Jul 11