Prologue

This is a 7 year story in the making and now I will finally tell it. Please give your thoughts and opinions. Thank You for reading!

Prologue

 

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The sound of something so fragile breaking over and over. The facial dents streaming with frigid air circulating past the numb ears. The oddly fresh flood of air racing past even more leaving you loose like chains have been unshackled. The chilly current flowing with sound of the hazel leaves dancing with life. The moon showering its light through the dusk lingering around the stage floor, leading it all into the final act. And yet, the harder you listen there is a noise yet to be heard.

BEEP. “GET THE HELL OFF THE STREET, DUMBASS". A man roared from his Jeep. I swiftly moved as he zoomed off. Left with a gust of cold air breezing past as I watch his rear lights fade away. The echo withering throughout the still streets towered by the dead wood. Creaking and clanking with every wave of wind setting a string of methodical noises. Something so lively produced without a soul in sight. A language only meant to be heard not understood.

I move on with a light pace to my destination passing multiple blocks until seeing a bright glow emitting like its defending off the surrounding hordes of darkness. A pillar standing tall holding a beacon for the neighborhood with the name Convenient. Not the most creative name, but it does hold its name dearly. Occupying a range of items that are well renowned and home to more things that only seem like a dream on the outside of town. The Convenience Store now in view beaming with rays of light. Showing as if the store doesn't belong there with the low poverty surrounding the establishment. Theft and robbery being very common in these areas, but as of recently Convenient has become the new McDonalds for convenient stores. Becoming a rival for most big brand businesses with no explanation of where they came from.

Walking into the vacant parking lot, I see the appointed night guard who is sitting on the curb keeping watch as he usually does. He notices me and waves saying hi. I go inside to hear the blaring ring as you pass the sensor. A TV hanging from the ceiling giving the daily news on recent events. “It has been 2 days since the recent asteroid has made contact with the city Ginic in northern Holloway. With this being our 7^th meteor scientists have confirmed we are expecting another two to be arriving within the next two weeks. With surrounding help from neighboring cities, Firefighters have been working tirelessly to find the remaining survivors. Right now you can support four cities with the help of your donation by-"

The anchor’s voice fades with shrouded thoughts. ‘Why is this reality? Innocence ruined by inconvenience. It pains me to see such loss and despair.’

“Hey, you gonna buy something hun?” I turn to see the cashier leaning against the counter with a smug look. I nod and make my way to the restrooms at the very back of the store.

A hum buzzes from the light switch, revealing a person. A man covered with ragged clothes and worn-out shoes. Hood over the head almost hiding his soul-less eyes. A stare that would be considered bad news for anyone. It seems even his face is frozen in the same expression as sorrow. A war-torn of a human being, disfigured and rusted with no function left.

‘I can hardly recognize myself.’ I look away from the mirror and start washing my battered hands. The water flows through my scraps and scars like its reliving my past. Seeing each bruise shows a fragment of my pain. The hardships to get to this point. ‘And for what. What happens next after this. What’s the point. Everywhere I go. Everything I do. Everything is against me. I lived a life full of hate and sadness and yet, I cant find the reason why I’m here.’

The blaring ring goes off once again. I snap from my clouded mindset and begin to finish up. Taking one last look at myself, looking for something that isn't there. I bust out and head for the front doors, but a screeching yell erupts.

An alarming smell of burning and smoke follow suit. A young man is hovering over what seems like the cashier. Her body in flames as its taking the color out of her. Black rapidly spreading throughout her figure till she is enveloped in ash. My eyes snap straight as he's now looking at me.

A standstill is at motion as his eyes tell a different tale. A sensation of purpose lives within him. I don’t see someone in remorse or filled with wicked intent, but a will to carry out. He sweeps his arm sideways and engulfs the only exit with roaring flames. A series of panicking and confusion leads me into the same restroom as the glow is etched into the edges of the door. More flames erupt from the door as it spreads wide and large throughout the room. A light blaring brighter and brighter with a shine of such magnitude, the heat dies and so with my emotions. The tense situation turns calm, as a silhouette glows from the light. The more I look the more I see clearly of not the person, but of what’s happening.

‘I'm dead.’

“Indeed”

The silhouette responds to my thoughts and proceeds to extend their hand. I meet halfway and grab.

“A faith born from the abyss, enveloped in darkness, casted from the blinding light to consume the eternal wicked…………….I, The Deity of Mortality, Samael bestow my wisdom and give absolute purpose.

And like that the light fades. Mixing. Morphing. Till my surroundings change into shapes and colors. My senses emerging with greater awareness as I’m completely in focus. My surroundings have changed from the bathroom to a more crowded area.

I hear chants ringing from the streets, curving along the buildings.

PYRONITE PYRONITE PYRONITE

I can see clear as day. It was him.

Reviews

[Spamalot]

Well, you did ask... I hesitated in writing this because you said you’ve been working on it for seven years, and what I have to say willn't be easy to hear. But given that you have been working on it, and the problems I see preclude acceptance by an agent or publisher—and are fixable, I thought you’d want to know.

What you face is the result of what I call, The Great Misunderstanding. Like everyone else, you spent your school years sharpening the skill you call writing by completing assignments for reports and essays, over and over. But here’s the problem with that: Those are nonfiction applications, and are written with nonfiction writing techniques that focus on informing the reader. Using them, the author reports and explains, in a voice that, for the reader, contains little of the emotion you might put into the reading.

Why? Because, in all the world, only you know how you intend the words to be read. And only you know the meaning you intend the reader to take.

But more than that, our goal of fiction writers is to emotionally move the reader. Using nonfiction techniques we tell the reader that it's raining. The fiction writer make the reader feel the rain droplets stinging. their cheeks. And using nonfiction techniques, because our focus is explaining, and we already know the scene so well, we tend to leave out detail the reader needs, and not notice, because for us, it's not missing

A perfect example is the opening.

• Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

You tell the reader that three crunches occurred, but… Crunches, as in chewing shredded wheat? As in a car crusher in operation? As in walking on dead leaves? You know, but no one else does. So first, the reader gets meaningless words, and then, you clarify? That can’t work.

• The sound of something so fragile breaking over and over.

Look at this, not as the author who knows what’s happening, but as the reader, who doesn’t know where we are, what’s going on, or who we are. The sound of “something?” Why not make them know what’s breaking. And, is your intent that the unknown something is breaking over and over, or that it’s individual somethings breaking, after another? The words could mean either. You know what it is. The people on the scene know. Shouldn’t the one you wrote it for know?

• The facial dents streaming with frigid air circulating past the numb ears

This makes perfect sense to you because you have intent as to how the words are to be taken. But the reader has no access to that knowledge. I looked up “facial dents,” and found only references to sunken cheeks and pockmarks, so why these dents are passing “frigid air” is impossible to know—especially given that I don’t know where in the planet (or even if we are on Earth) this takes place. We could be in a walk-in cooler in a restaurant, or the arctic. We could be in a forest in winter, and the crunches the snow underfoot. Explaining and clarifying, later, helps not at all, because the reader needs context as-they-read. There is no second-first impression.

Bottom line: You’re trying to tell the reader a story by talking about what’s happening. It works for you because you have context for the situation. So for you the words are pointers to images, memories, and plot detail that’s stored in your mind.

For the reader? For them, the words are pointers to images, memories, and plot detail that’s stored in *YOUR* mind. But with you not there to clarify when it’s read…

Here’s the deal: Fiction-Writing is a profession, and like all professions, the specialized knowledge and skills are acquired IN ADDITION to the general skills we’re given in our school-days. They’re not all that hard to learn, but they must be learned. There's no way around that. We no more learn them by reading fiction than we become a chef by eating. And, since we all leave our schooldays not knowing this, you have a LOT of company…including me, when I turned to writing. Remember, they have degree programs in Commercial Fiction-Writing. You have to figure that at least some of what’s taught is necessary, right?

The library’s fiction-writing section is a great resource. In it, you’ll find the views of successful people in publishing, writing, and teaching. And for a quick start, the best book I’ve found in many years of looking, is available for free download at the address just below this paragraph. And it’s not my opinion. The book has over 200 5-star reviews on Amazon, more than a few from people like me, who would never have been offered a publishing contract without its help. So grab a copy before they change their mind.

https://archive.org/details/TechniquesOfTheSellingWriterCUsersvenkatmGoogleDrive4FilmMakingBsc_ChennaiFilmSchoolPractice_Others

For what it might be worth, many of the articles in my WordPress writing blog are based on the teaching to be found in that book.

So grab the book and dig in. And while you work on it, hang in there, and keep-on-writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/

[Raymond]

I am in your debt. Thank You for your constructive criticism. I really needed this. Do I have any strengths in this prologue?

[Spamalot]

You're thinking in terms of plot. In effect: did I like the plot?

But plot can only be evaluated in retrospect. If the reader turns away because the act of reading, in and of itself, didn't please them, the best plot ever conceived will never be seen because the reader turned away before seeing more than a page.

There's nothing wrong with your writing skills. And your talent isn't in question. And given that it's something you share with most hopeful writers, it's not even your fault. It's the nonfiction approach to presenting the story that's the problem.

Not knowing the three things we must address, quickly, on entering any scene, you didn't. Because no one explained the function of the short-term scene-goal you didn't make use of it. And because you saw that the writing wasn't what you hoped it would be you tried to brighten up the language with a "literary approach." But that's like applying whipped cream. As Mark Twain put it: “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”