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.
So you basically just critique the person’s above yours prologue (in a positive way) and then share yours.
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.
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
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.
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.
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 as your thread seems more suited for that Club, I’ve gone ahead and moved it for you
Thank you for understanding!
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.
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.
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.
I lifted my leg.
I closed my eyes.
My foot slammed down onto the floor.
I turned towards the mirror.
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?
I like what I’m reading so far, it’s well worded and I always love a good cliffhanger to a prologue, makes you curious as to what will happen and raise the curiosity of people, leading them to wonder what will happen and continue to read the story. And honestly the characters are interesting and well thought out. A story I’d like to read.
The Prologue of my fantasy story: The Mark of Merric
“Crap! He’s going to get me! I better hide this before he finds me.” A young, fragile-looking but powerful man thought, as he held a blessed pure gold talisman, attached to a pure silver chain in his palm, running past the crowds, his silver hair glistening in the early morning light as he ran, violet eyes flicking around, as if he’s looking for someone.
A man bellowed, “Kristoph! Give me the mark! Or people will die!” Kristoph turned quickly, grasping the talisman in his hand, seeing that a far more able-bodied but brutish man holding a steel stave with a green crystal in his left hand as the man prepared to ignite an offensive against Kristoph. “I shall not, the Mark can not enter the hands of those who would misuse it! So I can not let you have this, Reginald!” Kristoph yelled. “Then you shall die!” Reginald had activated his stave and had motioned a sigil of defense and slammed his stave into the ground, activating it. Kristoph had pulled out a silver blade which glistened in the sunlight, and he had set it on fire. There was a moment of silence before either had moved, the tension was sharp as the blade Kristoph held.
Reginald moves forward, swinging the underside of his staff towards Kristoph’s head. Kristoph gave a quick dodge. Kristoph goes to cut open Reginald’s abdomen. Reginald was unaffected because of his defense sigil, and goes for a strong swing towards Kristoph’s gut.
“Urgh!” Kristoph gripped his stomach, the wind knocked out of him, coughing out some blood, the metallic scent noticeable by Kristoph, and no one else, but pushed on. He put his sword away, and uttered a sigil, and sends a shot of magic energy at his opponent, yet it dissipated. Reginald laughed, “You think your puny magic can stop me?! You idiot!” “Puny?”, Kristoph said darkly, “What is puny about this?!” Kristoph yelled, sending a blast of sunfire with overwhelming force at Reginald. Reginald had buckled down to the ground, hanging on by a thread of his life, not expecting that powerful of a blast from such a sickly looking man, “How?! You are a novice compared to me, how can you do that?!” Reginald yelled. “I have the near infinite power of the Mark at my disposal and I am not a novice, you maybe older than me, Reginald, but I am wiser!” Kristoph yelled.
Reginald had gotten up quickly by muttering a healing sigil and had gotten up and ran towards Kristoph, with his staff, and hit him squarely in his stomach, and pulled it out. Kristoph grabbed his stomach, feeling something flowing out of him. “Shit. I have to get out here, now”, Kristoph muttered quietly. Kristoph quickly got up, and started running away from Reginald. “Hey! Get back here, you spineless bastard!” Reginald shouted at Kristoph.
Kristoph has just kept on running until his legs could carry him no more, when he fell to the ground, in incredible pain as he was bleeding out from his stomach, in front of a small coffee shop with an almost 17 year old man sitting at the window, watching everything he could be able to see as it happened…
And that’s where the adventure began that would change both the teenager’s and Kristoph’s lives forever.
Your story starts in media res, which I like. It draws the reader in and makes them wonder what happened before that led to these events. However, there are some things you should pay attention too.
First of all, I would just leave this out. There is no need to mention this explicitly, because it will be explained that this is the start of the story in the next few chapters. Second, if this is really where your story started and both people are your main characters, then is it really necessary to write a prologue? Couldn’t you just write this in the first chapter instead? It was just something I was wondering.
This is a really long sentence and it seems run-on to me. This is not the only time you write long sentences, and I wanted to point this out to you because long sentences make a text difficult to read. By the end of the sentence above, I had already forgotten some of the things that were told at the beginning. Try to split up your sentences to improve readability.
Every time a new speaker takes turn in the conversation, you should start a new paragraph. Otherwise it gets really confusing as to make out who is talking at the moment.
I hope I was able to offer you some constructive criticism! I want you to know that I think your story has potential by the looks of what you’ve written here, and the comments I gave are there to help you polish it.
Here is the prologue of my story “Inheritance”.
The Book of Witchcraft & Sorcery: Chapter XVIII, Section III
The Dark Sorcerers
There is no Light without the Dark.
The first Dark Child was born many centuries ago. At first sight, it looked like any other child. However, already after a few weeks, peculiar things started to happen around it. Animals acted as if they had rabies, attacking anyone who came close and eyes rolling in their sockets. Freshly picked flowers withered within one day; lovely and colorful in the morning, flaccid and dead in the evening. The people who came near the child turned sad and quiet, or angry and irritable, picking a fight with each other over nothing.
The local shaman was the first to notice the dark energy that surrounded the child. He called for a council with the shamans of the neighboring villages to discuss the child’s mysterious powers. Considering the increasing severity of the accidents that had been caused by the child, the shamans decided that it had to be killed. Yet, the child’s mother did not accept the shamans’ decision and refused to give up the child. Therefore, the shamans agreed to carry out their plan at night, when the mother was asleep. That same night they entered the house, but when they hadn’t returned the next morning, a group of brave villagers went to look for them. They found the shamans in a circle around the child’s cot, dead eyes looking up at the ceiling. No visible harm seemed to have been done to them, but they were dead nonetheless. Both the child and his mother were nowhere to be found, seemingly having vanished into thin air.
Since the child was gone, the village became quiet and peaceful once more, and remained so for the years to follow.
Some thirty years later, a stranger arrived in the village. Nobody in the neighborhood had ever seen him before, but passing travelers were not uncommon in the region. However, not long after the stranger’s arrival, people started quarreling again and the animals became wild and slaughtered each other in their rage. The villagers watched the stranger with suspicion, fearing that he might be the child that brought death to their hometown all those years ago.
About a week after the stranger showed up, during a full moon, the villagers woke up in the middle of the night due to strange, inhuman sounds. Assuming it was just animals, the men went outside to hunt it. They followed the noise to the cemetery, which was located at the edge of the forest that surrounded the village, and there they witnessed the most horrible scene: the shamans who were killed in that cursed house thirty years ago were crawling out of their graves, groping at the men’s feet and legs, their white skulls grinning sinisterly at them. Amidst the wriggling skeletons stood the stranger, baring his teeth, his eyes blazing with fire.
After that night, nothing was left of that village, and many more villages were to follow in the centuries to come. More Dark Sorcerers were born, each one possessing the power to control Darkness and Death. It was they who brought the Dark to this world, chasing away the Light and leaving only destruction in their wake. They cannot be defeated but by one of their own, though not one of them has ever opposed the others. The Dark is so much a part of them that the Light does not seem to stand any chance at all.
The balance between Light and Dark in our world is now tilting as the Darkness slowly swallows up the Light. Strange creatures have been reported to roam the lands, and the dead are crawling out of their graves at night. Will there ever come a time when the Light regains the upper hand, or will all be consumed by Darkness, the world as we know it lost to us forever?
Thanks! I’ll use that advice, it helped me out a lot!
I’m glad to hear that!