This year I am writing a novel.
You might have read my post titled “Establishing Context” where I was talking a bit about whether I should write a prologue or not. Well, I decided to play around with it a bit and this week I was hoping for some feedback on my rough idea of it.
My goal is for it to be mysterious. Who and what become more clear once you, the reader, dig into the chapters that follow. Is it too vague? Is it too long or too short? Does it make you want to read on? Anything you would like to share in the way of constructive feedback would be greatly appreciated.
Prologue for constructive criticsism
Even with her limited magic she can feel the change. It is a subtle shift in the knowledge of the person she has placed the awareness charm on. Her skills in the healing magics are too advanced for even the most powerful of Spellbinders to detect without help. The only thing he is aware of at this point is the one thing that she hoped he would never find, but there is nothing to be done for that now. Her goal now is to conceal it long enough that her sister finds it first.
After she has ensured her kids are safely away she separates the two pieces and hides them in two different locations. She had wanted to separate the stones from each other but the danger of their instability when separated is too great. So, she did the best she could with her limited time.
She stands in her kitchen waiting. She thinks of her sister as she twists the branch of tropical bloodweed in her hands, the reddish-orange and yellow of the flowers calling to mind flames of fire. She can feel in her body that her time is getting shorter. He will be there soon. She is hyper aware of the faint smell of lavender that still clings to her fingers and the soft smudge of lead on her drawing hand.
They call him The Bringing of Sorrow and when he appears in the doorway alone she isn’t surprised. His brown eyes leers at her from the shadows of his face and she can see a suggestion of the dark handsomeness that he used to be known for. One side of his mouth pulls up while the other remains in place as he runs an aged hand through hair that is more salt then pepper. He is the same age her own father would have been, but he hides it well with his straight back and well-kept body.
She tucks the strand of bloodweed behind her ear with a chunk of her own ash brown hair as he raises he hands to very dramatically begin the weave that will start to breakdown and eventually penetrate her mental defenses. “I won’t tell you anything,” she whispers.
“I hoped you wouldn’t,” he says flatly.
She closes her eyes to wait for it to begin. A very soft sound gives away the movement of someone else in the house behind her and the smell in the air changes. She can smell faint notes of something earthy, sweet and spicy. She is aware that the smell is being wafted, likely to prevent this unknown person from being detected, so only hints of the scent reach her nose. She throws her eyes open to see The Bringer of Sorrow release his magic weave in her direction but the feeling of pain she expects it to cause never come. Instead her five foot frame bends in half unnaturally as it is yanked backwards in a vacuum like effect and everything goes black.
By Shari Marshall – 2021