Share your Prologues

So you basically just critique the person’s above yours prologue (in a positive way) and then share yours.
Someone will give you feedback on yours and so on.

Prologue

I couldn’t be here. Not again.

This was the place of my worst nightmares, the sister to Hell.

I think I was drowning. I couldn’t be sure. All I could think was not again, not again, not again.

I try to take a breath but water – or maybe not – fills my lungs stars dance in my vision, not that I can see much.

Not again .

The dark liquid fills me, seeps into my soul and turns my life to dust. I can see and feel everything I love dying in this damned place like it did the first time. This time is just like the first. The pain, the water, the death is all the same as before.

Not again.

Not again.

Not again.

But, of course, I have to watch them die, the pain I once felt being born anew.

Or you can do your prologue, same different

This excerpt was very nice. No real grammatical or spelling errors that I could spot and the writing was relatively engaging. The only thing I would recommend is considering whether you need as many commas as you do. Maybe shorter sentences would be better to incorporate a jarring feel to the text - which may mimic the fear of the character?

The first 100 words of my prologue

ATTENTION.

ATTENTION.

This is the Emergency Broadcast System. Take shelter immediately. Do not leave your home. This is not a drill.

Repeat: This is not a drill. A government facility has been breached. Take shelter immediately and stay connected to this frequency for further instructions.

The message was repeated three times. Then total radio silence.

Mass panic erupted across the nation. People ran from their workplaces; taking shelter in the comfort of their homes. Some called their children and cried when they received no answer.

Twelve hundred missed calls later and a sinking feeling in their gut. Generation Z would never leave their phone unattended. Especially not in a time like this. Not unless they were dead.

Excerpt

Walk, keep walking it told her. Its therapy, it will help to soothe the pain you feel inside. Focus on nature, the passing cars, the sunset, the hustle and bustle that you are not part of and forget. Feel the worries slip away from you and just relax.

She started to feel more distanced from what was around her as she set on a lazy stroll along the sidewalks, moving slowly with the summer breeze. Yes, this is peace. Her mind was clear and for once in that busy, tiring day she thought of nothing.

Hello !:smile:

The #story-services:critiques-and-feedback category is only for critics to advertise their services. The Character and Story Games Club is for character and writing games :smile: as your thread seems more suited for that Club, I’ve gone ahead and moved it for you :smile:

Thank you for understanding! :yellow_heart:

Irena

Community Ambassador

Wow, it’s really good. The only thing is when you say taking shelter in the comfort of their homes. If they are taking shelter, running from whatever they are running from,then is it really comfortable. Also when you wrote Twelve hundred missed calls later and a sinking feeling in their gut. Generation Z would never leave their phone unattended I had to read it a few times to relize that the parents were calling their kids and that their kids would never leave their phone. Maybe try writing maybe something more like, this day and age no child would leave their phone unattended.
I liked the way it ended, it was like wow OK maybe their all dead. wow.

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ok thanks

Its therapy. I will help soothe the pain.
Try that maybe.
Maybe just try having more spacing for effect.
She started to feel more distanced from what was around her as she set on a lazy stroll along the sidewalks, moving slowly with the summer breeze.
Yes, this is peace.
Her mind was clear and for once in that busy, tiring day she thought of nothing.
Otherwise I love it, it really draws the reader in.

Thanks :smiley:

The reason for stating that the pain was inside (emotional pain) was so that the reader does not confuse the pain with physical pain

Ah I get it, thats cool then

Um, who’s the person above me?

Prologue (this one’s a bit long):

~Unknown Point Of View~

I crept quietly into the chilled bathroom, slamming the door behind me with no thought of who would hear. I had no tears left to cry, my eyes were parched, I should be crying but I wasn’t. Tears were not going to fix this, I told myself sternly.

What I need is vengeance.

I needed to forget the control that seemed embedded in me; to reconnect with a part of myself that I had tried so hard to ignore.

I swung open the cabinet and surveyed the contents for my target. Grabbing the white container without the slightest bit of hesitation, I opened the bottle and poured out its contents. Pills fell like stones in water as I dropped the bottle on the ground, letting it slide from my grip.

A moment of panic filled me as I thought about what would happen if I crushed my medication. All the symptoms of my disease that I fought so hard to conceal would come out with no suppressant to stop them.

Then again, isn’t that precisely what I want?

I thought about every person who pushed me, who stepped on me, who tried to shove me into the dirt. Every person who walked by when I was hurting all over and didn’t hesitate to attack me when I wasn’t strong enough to defend myself. Every single person who wanted a reaction, who wanted to say that they had gotten to me and broken through my impenetrable wall.

You want to see me angry? Fine.

You want to see the ‘real me’? Fine

Get ready for your countdown to hell.

I’m about to blow the roof off this goddamned school.

Five…

I lifted my leg.

Four…

I closed my eyes.

Three…

My foot slammed down onto the floor.

Two…

I turned towards the mirror.

One…

"Game on.”

I think you’ve got a pretty solid prologue on your hands. It introduces the theme and the tone and all that jazz as well as not giving too much away. It’s also effectively structured and well worded. The only thing that I could say I wasn’t really feeling was the dramatics of it? Maybe it works with rest of your story, but I feel like bit more subtly could do your prologue wonders here. (And I wonder about the feasibility of smashing pills with your foot. Wouldn’t they scatter across the floor? I think a flushing would be more realistic, but that’s really nit picky)

Anyways, heres mine from The Bound

The day was bright and clear. The god of charms willed it so. He stood alone this time, his usual companion blissfully unaware of the ceremony that was about to take place. He would know in the morning, the god of charms was unable to keep secrets from his husband, but it was easier to focus without the god of children constantly jabbering. So for now, he was in the dark.

In the light, before the god stood an array of people, the majority of them some flavor of demicreature. But the most important guests were the lone five humans who would not meet the god’s eye, out of respect. This was good, Heillar knew. Respect wasn’t something he valued too highly, but he understood that matters as serious as these required it.

Stood in front of him were two of his most devout students and their young child, no more than three, who clung to the leg of her father. Beside them, but separate, was another one of Heillar’s students. Ali. She was not the same kind of student that the other two were, and this was a great mark of shame. Still, she stood as tall as she might, in her arms holding a bundle that mirrored the bundle in the hands of the mother she stood beside.

It is often asked whether or not the mothers gave their children willingly. Obviously, they stood before him now, with smiles on their faces, placing their newborn infants on a table before him as if they were offerings of gold or silver. And yes, afterwards they stood back with their hands clasped behind their backs waiting expectantly for an outcome they hadn’t the slightest clue of.

But the god of charms was very aptly named. He had an effect to him that made no’s in his presence almost impossible to deliver. And even before that, there were prophetic whispers of this day, of this event, of the magic that was about to take place.

If fate is what drew them to the dias, was it their feet that carried them there? Does anyone do anything willingly?

If an action is known, it becomes inescapable.

So these questions remain unanswered in an attempt to escape the unwanted answer. It could be true that they gave up their children of their own volition, and it could be true that all choices are ours to make. But if we ask what if, we might find that answer is no.

And what if?