Untitled

This is the prologue to a book that I'm currently working on. (This is the rough draft, not the revised edition).

Prologue

My fingers gently caressed the faded white keys, pressing  gently against the cracked surfaces. A single tune, a single tale, emitted from it’s bold structure, with each note. The hum seemed to seep through the air and form layers of protection and memories all around me. Vibrations comforted my bones, sending trembling shivers throughout my being. And although the once black surface of the grand piano sit coated with dust, I had no temptation to wipe clear the cloak of memories. I took comfort in that old, dusty house. The one on Maine Street that everyone passed without a glance. Our homes are supposed to be a place to which we can always return, but all I see when I return here is an empty, forgotten realm.

My calloused feet left drag marks across the chipped, wooden birch. I knew I should turn back, I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be trying to solve a case that wasn’t solvable, that hasn’t been solvable for 13 years and 12 days. But no matter how hard I tried to stay away, there was always a current that dragged me back into this abyss, and it cradled me in it’s arms until I was buried alive beneath an ocean full of temptation. Would I ever be able to let go? Or would the world just keep spinning, and I, just keep stopping. So many questions live in my mind and so many of them are unanswered. So many questions keeping me a hostage in this town composed of burden. Memories haunted my mind and no matter how loud I screamed, nothing would scare them away. I needed help, I know that now, but I have no clue where to begin searching for something that runs away each time I near it.

The thunder outside seemed to diminish into the air, dimmed in comparison to the bright yellow police tape, trudged on and teared apart by intruders searching for adventure within a nightmare. Yellow, a color too cheerful, too agonizingly painful to be a captive within my broken frame.

It has been 13 years since my mother’s life was stolen by the hand of a monster with a trigger-happy grin, and a lifeless heart. Inside I am numb, I feel nothing. Even the desire for revenge has seemed to fade, and a dark fog followed the rhythm of my footsteps, we have become great acquaintances.

The fog slowly reaches it’s nimble fingers out to mine, and it’s touch seems to be my only release, as it encases me in a shield, transparent to nobody but me. I’ve become a monster, while searching for another monster. My closest friends no longer recognize the stranger that has inhabited my being. Neither do I. It’s no surprise to me when the house bursts into screeching flames, and I leave the matches to burn behind my wake.

Author's Note

Give me as many criticisms as you can. :) Also, is it too much? Sometimes I get lost in detail. Thanks for reading! :) If you don't have any criticisms, I would appreciate letting me know how you felt while reading this, I'm not really sure what kind of reaction I'm going for but I'm hoping I get some ideas of how to develop the character based on how you guys reacted to this, just in general. :)