Prologue

The prologue...basically setting the scene and whatnot. The story will base off of this.

            If a curious traveler were to stroll down Dempsey Road on an overbearingly humid summer night, not unlike most near the sea coast, his attention would undoubtedly be captivated by the engaging relationship between sea and sky. The similar black hues shared by both entities had given the horizon a never-ending appearance hours earlier, but now, as the low mist began its ghostly descent upon the town, it created a sort of milky way divide between water and air. This strange relationship, as well as the the moonlight, like a single unblinking eye strewn on a backdrop of the blue, forged a strange silhouette upon the waves of both the ocean and the isolated pathway through the town. The traveler, however, would remain impartial to the variously colored stones upon the path, or how the perfectly angled rooftops of the passing houses created an diagonal puzzle upon the ground.

 

            Even these seemingly insignificant things, the common architecture and setting of the coastal town, may have been noticed by a foreign passerby. However, a pair of intent eyes gazing through a certain fluttering window curtain, or even the source of noise at which they were directed at, would be overlooked by all but the inhabitants of the town.

            Perhaps little offenses such as these were common in other towns at this time of night.

            Perhaps they were even welcomed.

           However, on this particular evening, in this particular town, beneath the light of a single aged lamppost, stood two hooded figures. The mumbling emitted from behind their long cloaks was not the source of the disturbance. Nor was the way in which their heads leaned toward one another, suggesting, perhaps, a heated conversation twirled around some sort of unsurpassed, surprising event. Their mere presence on this isolated road, at this time of night, suggested a sort of disorder. An tear in the fine threads of the society. An interruption.

            But alas, a traveler is only a passerby, a sole whisper stumbling upon hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of well thought out stories. After all, one is forced to notice that which he is unaccustomed to.

Author's Note

once again, rip it up and give me your criticisms :)