Era and the Lost Child

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I placed this in the fantasy section as well because im honestly debating where to put it.

This is only part 1/3 of the prologue to the story. Its a story that has a lot of detailed writing in the beginning prologue, but during chapters, picks up pace a lot faster. Thanks for the help! enjoy




Prologue

It was a miserable evening. Rain fought its way through a cracked sky, lined with hazy, dark clouds that blocked out all forms of light. The moon, hidden behind clouds as thick as mud, battled to shine light onto the world below. The rain was light yet quick, and stung the eyes of those that stood against the wind. The water had been calm for days, resting, waiting for this storm. Waves reached high and hit the sandy shore hard. In this storm, there was one difference; a hulking vessel was on the waves, being rocked to and fro by the pounding beats of black water that banged the sides of the boat. This great battle between boat and water, man and sea, was over. The sea had come out victorious over the weakened ship. The mast was cracked, the sides were torn. Entering the boat unannounced, water took the passengers by surprise. Fear now entered the hearts of men and women alike that shared the same fate, doomed to the depths of the hideous ocean below. Over the wind and rain, a faint cry of pain and sorrow could be heard. Women gripped their children and wept loudly. Too scared to cry, the children only closed their eyes, hoping for it all to end. Their wishes were given to them in full. A monstrous wave crashed the rear of the wooden crafted boat, tipping it over. All went grey.

Waves struck the beach with what seemed like a never-ending assault. Wood bits began to wash up from the shore from the destroyed vessel harbored among deadly rocks less then a mile offshore. The sea looked like a force set against the world. With its victory over the ship, the sea seemed to roar with delight, launching yet more waves to rattle the shoreline. Sand on the shore turned from its crisp, calm light brown to a deep shade of brown. On the rocks, the ship dangled, helpless. Through the waves, a beaten shape arose from the water on the sea. This shape was a man. Pushing hard against the ocean for his last chance to survive what seemed like the doomed, he dragged himself onto the shore. Carrying himself on his hands and knees, he gasped for air. His bloodshot green eyes blinked rapidly, trying to regain focus in the darkness. Cold wind stabbed at his pale skin through his soaked, worn white shirt. His heart beat louder then the wind on his cheeks and faster then that waves the ushered him back into the dark sea. But he would did not falter, but pushed on, claiming more ground with every groan. Feeling his body begin to give in to the physical pressures of the surrounding environment, he knew that his time was near. he reached his air out and grasped a hand full of sand, choked out a cough, and stopped. The last thing that he saw before losing consciousness was a figure running towards him.

In the darkness of sleep, a past vision haunted the boy. He found no shelter from the horrors that had filled his life. He stood now on a beaten path, in front of a thatched cottage. He knew this dream. He walked slowly towards the chipped wooden door that he knew wouldn’t be closed. It was open just an inch, enough to see only the light within it. He reached out, placed his palm upon the spot where he had placed it every time. Creaking the door open, he saw it once again. Thick, red blood bathed the room. He ventured slowly onwards. The dirt floor was soaked in crimson. Turning to the left of him, as he knew he would see, was he slain younger brother. The boy had been pierced through the heart, and left to rot against the wall we he sat. Soft brown eyes stared out from the dead boy towards the young man now holding back tears. He breathed deeply in. He knew he had to go on. He walked further into the room towards the door directly in front of him. Knowing what he would see, but also knowing that it was the only way for him to wake himself up, he struggled on. Letting out a long breath, he opened the final door in his journey. Almost instantly, he turned away from the horrific sight. Crying now, he turned and peered through tear-filled eyes at the mutilated bodies of his mother and father. Before he had time to do anything else, the images turned dark and the world around him began to take shape.

Some say that men that have lost everything in their lives have the ability to accept anything under any odds or measures as long as it will keep them sane enough to live. Waking up for this certain young man made him realize that the end had finally come. He blinked open his eyes and observed the room around him. Usually, after the sickly dream that he experienced commonly, he would wake up roughly, coughing and having a slight headache. He was lying in a bed, twice the size of any bed he had ever seen. Light shown through an open doorway in front of the bed, and then a cloud covered the sky. It was unlike the clouds of the evening before; it was peaceful and soothing. The room he was sitting in looked much like his old home, miles away, across the now calmed ocean. He began to take note of his surroundings. The soaked rags he had been wearing were on the back of a chair feet from him, and he was clothed in a clean material that felt like silk but looked like cotton. The sheets were of the same material and they felt very warm and comfortable against the young man. Pulling the sheets back, he placed his feet on a cold wooden floor and then doubled over. The pain from the wreck and the rough sea had left its mark on the young man. He took a few seconds to let the breath enter into his system once more and then he noticed a figure standing in the doorway.


More to come. Jadix




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It was a miserable evening. Rain fought its way through a cracked sky (omit comma) lined with hazy, dark clouds that blocked out all forms of light. The moon, hidden behind clouds as thick as mud, battled to shine light onto the world below. The rain was light yet quick (omit comma) and stung the eyes of those that stood against the wind.

(New paragraph)The water had been calm for days, resting, waiting for this storm. Waves reached high and hit the sandy shore hard (maybe find a stronger descriptor). In this storm, there was one difference; a hulking vessel was on the waves (omit comma) being rocked (if a boat is being cast on harsh waters, I don't think it's being rocked) to and fro by the pounding beats of black water that banged the sides of the boat.

(New paragraph)This great battle between boat and water, man and sea, was over. The sea had come out victorious over the weakened ship. The mast was cracked, the sides were torn. Entering the boat unannounced, water took the passengers by surprise. Fear now entered the hearts of men and women alike that shared the same fate, doomed to the depths of the hideous (perhaps mysterious) ocean below. Over the wind and rain, a faint cry of pain and sorrow could be heard. Women gripped their children and wept loudly. Too scared to cry, the children only closed their eyes, hoping for it all to end. (maybe switch these as children would be more likely to cry than their mothers) Their wishes were given to them in full. A monstrous wave crashed the rear of the wooden crafted boat, tipping it over. All went grey.

Waves struck the beach with what seemed like a never-ending assault. Wood bits (bits of wood and debris, maybe) began to wash up from the shore from the destroyed vessel harbored among deadly rocks less then (than) a mile offshore. The sea looked like a force set against the world. With its victory over the ship, the sea seemed to roar with delight, launching yet more waves to rattle the shoreline. (you use 'the sea' an awful lot. Look for another phrase or word to describe the ocean) Sand on the shore turned from its crisp, calm light brown to a deep shade of brown (new word).

(New paragraph)On the rocks, the ship dangled (omit comma) helpless(ly). Through the waves, a beaten shape arose from the water on the sea. This shape (maybe use 'it') was a man. Pushing hard against the ocean for his last chance to survive what seemed like the doomed (awkward sentence, consider revising or ommitting), he dragged himself onto the shore. Carrying himself on his hands and knees, he gasped for air. His bloodshot green eyes blinked rapidly (omit comma) trying to regain focus in the darkness.

(new paragraph)Cold wind stabbed at his pale skin through his soaked, worn white shirt. His heart beat louder then (than) the wind on his cheeks and faster then (than) the waves that ushered him back into the dark sea. (omit But) He would did (omit either 'would' or 'did) not falter, but pushed on, claiming more ground with every groan. Feeling his body begin to give in to the physical pressures of the surrounding environment, he knew that his time was near.

(new paragraph) He reached his air (I think you meant hand) out and grasped a hand full (handful is one word) of sand, choked out a cough, and stopped. The last thing that he saw before losing consciousness was a figure running towards him.

In the darkness of sleep, a past vision haunted the boy. He found no shelter from the horrors that had filled his life. He stood now on a beaten path, in front of a thatched cottage. He knew this dream. He walked slowly towards the chipped wooden door that he knew wouldn’t be closed. (Unless for dramatic effect, try not to being so many sentences with a pronoun like 'he') It was open just an inch, enough to see only the light within it. He reached out, placed his palm upon the spot where he had placed it every time. Other than the vague mention that it's a cottage, I don't know it's a cottage)

(new paragraph)Creaking the door open, he saw it once again (maybe use a semi-colon or colon here) thick (omit comma) red blood bathed the room. He ventured slowly onwards. The dirt floor was soaked in crimson. Turning to the left of him (not needed), as he knew he would see, was he (maybe you meant his?) slain younger brother (wording it like this makes it seem unimportant).

(New paragraph)The boy had been pierced through the heart (omit comma) and left to rot against the wall (upon which he leant, maybe?) we he sat. Soft brown eyes stared out from the dead boy towards the young man now holding back tears. He breathed deeply in (in deeply). He knew he had to go on. He walked further into the room towards the door directly in front of him. Knowing what he would see (you already used this phrase, try using another), but also knowing that it was the only way for him to wake himself up, he struggled on.

(new paragraph)Letting out a long breath, he opened the final door in his journey. Almost instantly, he turned away from the horrific sight. Crying now, he turned and peered through tear-filled eyes at the mutilated bodies of his mother and father. Before he had time to do anything else, the images turned dark and the world around him began to take shape. (You have a lot of very short, clipped sentences. Those are normally used for dramatic and intense scenes where a lot needs to happen in a short time. This scene doesn't appear to be like that. Try lengthening your sentences and drawing it out. Describe the rooms since it seems like this guy has been there. The whole thing seems like a mannequin moving through a cardboard diorama.)

Some say that men that (who) have lost everything in their lives have the ability to accept anything under any odds or measures as long as it will keep them sane enough to live. (Rather awkward wording here. Maybe try to clean it up. Condense it.) Waking up for this certain young man made him realize that the end had finally come.

(new paragraph)He blinked open his eyes and observed the room around him. Usually, after the sickly dream that he experienced commonly, he would wake up roughly, coughing and having a slight headache. (again an awkward sentence. Too many -ly words) He was lying in a bed (omit comma) twice the size of any bed (we know it's a bed, so you don't need this) he had ever seen. Light shown (I think you meant shone, which is illuminated) through an open doorway in front of the bed, and then a cloud covered the sky. It was unlike the clouds of the evening before; it was peaceful and soothing.

(new paragraph)The room he was sitting in (in which he was sitting) looked much like his old home, miles away, across the now calmed ocean. He began to take note of his surroundings. The soaked rags he had been wearing were on the back of a chair feet from him, and he was clothed in a clean material that felt like silk but looked like cotton. The sheets were of the same material and they felt very warm and comfortable against the young man.

(new paragraph)Pulling the sheets back, he placed his feet on a cold wooden floor and then doubled over. The pain from the wreck and the rough sea had left its mark on the young man. He took a few seconds to let the breath enter into his system once more and then he noticed a figure standing in the doorway.


--
All in all, I don't think I'd read anymore of the story. The character, the man, is rather flat. There's nothing to him, not even a name. I think at this juncture a name would be very beneficial. It all seems very impersonal and didn't really take me into the story at all.

The writing was very choppy and didn't flow well for me. I was taken through the storm and into a dream without any sort of segue into it. You use words like "the man", "the boy", "a figure" trying to accomplish a sense of anonymity. Instead, for me, it just makes you seem like you're laughing behind your hand as I stumble through a forest of nameless faces.
Write from the heart and nothing can go wrong. It's when you write from the wallet that the feeling goes away.




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Over the wind and rain, a faint cry of pain and sorrow could be heard.

A faint cry of pain and sorrow could be heard over the wind and rain.

Too scared to cry, the children only closed their eyes, hoping for it all to end.

Why would children be too scared to cry? Also say a more harsh word, like terrifed or petrified,


less then a mile offshore

This is a stupid question, but what is offshore? The wood bits, or the ship?

what seemed like the doomed
Just put "the doomed".

Too many same-sentence-structure. "He fought his way through the water, his shirt blah. Blah blah boo, pee poo doo. The computer is very slow, like a slug." This is in the end of the second paragraph, and I am starting to lose the bang that you started with in the first.

I didn't really understand what was going on in the dream. Separate those big paragraph into smaller ones, please.

Many spelling mistakes.

Okay, here's for the big stuff:

Is the man the main character? Because it doesn't seem like it, Make him more more personal. So what if he has a dream, WE DON'T CARE! Make the dream emotional, make it flowing and metaphorical, symbolic and full of sentiments. Dreams aren't fluff. They are quirky, they are repetitive, and they are original.

Your piece doesn't flow. Sorry. Make sure to edit each and every sentence (wll no, just read it and make sure) that it gushes into the next sentence nicely.

I want to see what happens next, but I want it to be more packed with some details that aren't over-the-top, unbelievable, and please make it more imaginitative.

What I liked here inthe first paragraph. I loved it. It seemed very cliche, but an original clice. ( :) )

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it is so far away



Despite everything, it's still you.
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