Prologue and first chapters to my book (THIRD drafts)

Prologue

It was over, job done. He had the creature safely contained inside the chest and he had lugged it into the boat. Now, he could sit back and relax, and savour his time on Earth, which came few and far between. He had to meet at the agreed point in three hours time in order to hand over to the experts, so there was a chance for a lazy journey down the river.

Johannes gazed over the side of his wooden rowing boat that was small and unremarkable and attempted in vain to access some of his memories of Earth, but deep inside he knew it was useless. The memories from before his activation were locked away somewhere in his brain, inaccessible until he finally returned for good. Of course, returning would be ludicrous now, when he was finally beginning to unravel the mysteries that had plagued the Clan for so many hundreds of years.

There were woods on his left and his right. He sighed as he watched the wildlife scurrying through them, wondering what it would be like to be free and not trapped inside a world full of misrepresentation, mysteries and mistrust. It seemed now, as his understanding increased, that the task ahead was more impossible than ever. Manipulating the very building blocks of existence, just to save a single race? Surely there must be something else behind the rapid gene mutation; it couldn’t be the Ruling Being’s bricks of creation faltering. If only he had a lead to work on…

And now, this latest disaster. How had this creature managed to breach the impenetrable defences of Earth? It was a modest thing, not much bigger than his head, and it just symbolised the desperation of the mutation situation. If it couldn’t be stopped, slowed or controlled, then it was a matter of time before the defences fell for good.

Lost in his dreams, he was awoken by a sudden knocking noise coming from the chest. But the creature was dead! Surely, surely he had killed it? Or perhaps this was another side effect of the rapid gene mutation, a creature that could not only penetrate Earth’s defences but was also immune to death? No, he thought, the mutation hasn’t come on that far; there is no way that anything can have developed immunity to death.

He tentatively stepped towards the box, and put his ear against it. He knew the beat of the knocking, he had heard it somewhere before. If he could only just remember it…


He carefully unbolted the chest, still holding it down. He may have not killed it, but it would be weak, and he would be ready for it. With his harpoon in one hand, he took a deep breath, and flung the lid open.

Immediately, he regretted his decision, as the creature was ready and struck him across the face, temporarily blinding him. The harpoon fell from his hand and clattered uselessly across the floor. He flailed and jumped on the box of the lid but was unable to bring it down upon the creature. All the while he bore in mind that he mustn’t look in its eyes. The fight would be lost instantaneously and the mission failed, not to mention Johannes himself, who would be left fighting for his life.

He reopened his eyes, no longer stinging from the initial blow, and quickly considered his options. There was no way he could make a grab for his harpoon, because the creature would jump out. On the other hand, he couldn’t hold the lid down on the ever-strong creature much longer before his strength gave out. So he used a classic schoolboy trick, and quickly lifted the lid up, taking the creature by surprise.

Harnessing that split second of surprise he flung it back down again, but as he did that, his eyes made the smallest of contact with the creature’s eyes, and he felt the life rapidly drain from his body. With the last of his energy, he thrust the bolt back across the chest, locking it. He had succeeded in saving the Earth, but as everything went black and the splitting pain that meant the creature was starting to attack his mind took over, he pondered whether he would succeed in saving himself.

Chapter 1

Chad took one last look, before he turned tail and ran. He was sick to death of the torment, and as he ran he told himself stubbornly that he would never head back in there again. He didn’t understand why people could get a kick out of upsetting others, almost as if they thought if they bullied the joy out of one person, they could have that joy themselves.

It had started three months ago, and began with a few nasty words here and there, a bit of tension between some certain individuals, but nothing beyond control. If it had been stopped then, nothing would have come of it but a few small arguments. Of course though, Chad had felt it useless telling his parents and as such did not. The teasing grew; what began as a joke had spiralled uncontrollably into an abyss of anguish for him, from which he could see no way out. He had tried trying reasoning with the bullies, tried throwing a punch to shut them up, but instead he had fed them the bait to carry on.

He was an average thirteen-year-old boy, of an average height, with long brown hair that looked uncared for and spots that had begun to sprout up over his face. There was one feature that looked out of place, however, his glasses. They looked out of place because they were his father’s old ones. Of course when he had first been prescribed with glasses, he had requested the modern, designer pair advertised on TV but his father had insisted that there were some spare ones at home that looked similar. Chad had protested but had no choice and when he arrived home, he was greeted by a pair of round-rimmed spectacles that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a 1980s schoolteacher. Disgusted, he had refused to go into school the next day but when he was eventually forced to, he entered the room to the sound of laughter ringing in his ears.

After that, he had tried every possible way to dispose of them: he pretended he had lost them, he tried smashing them, he tried leaving them on the bus, but they were always found or fixed. The bullying had been terrible, with Chad trying anything not to give in and let the pressure show. But inevitably he had snapped, and now he was running, away from it all.

He knew where he was heading: the river on the grounds of his house. Isolated in the middle of a forest it was his favourite place to relax and get away from the rigours of day-to-day school life. But on this particular day, he wanted to get away from his school life for good.

As he made his escape, he attempted to make himself look inconspicuous, fully aware that one wrong move could see him sent back to that place, Chad’s idea of hell. He slowed his run to a brisk walk as he reached the high street, several miles from his home out of town. He couldn’t take the bus, as he would be easily spotted. Or could he? He quickly pondered his options: he would stick out more walking along the grass kerb towards his house than if he didn’t take the bus. However, the school would probably know of his absence by now and would have notified the bus staff to look out for a boy of his description.

But in the end he realised that he was already in enough trouble as it was, and if he put his hood down, he would be very hard to spot. Although not normally one for taking risks, there was no use running away from school and then turning himself in; he had to get somewhere, and the quicker, the better. So he made his way towards the bus stop, a small, wooden thing clothed in graffiti. He knew which bus he should be on: the 97, which he took home from school every day. At least, every day that the bullies allowed him. They often would take their time as much as possible or block the doorway so that Chad would have to walk the three miles. It was maddening, upsetting, and utterly pointless.

The bus arrived ten minutes later, and Chad sighed as he boarded it. The bus was typical of this town: grey with no advertising for some reason, never early and never late, so dull and unremarkable that it fitted in well with the backdrop of office blocks and run-down MacDonald’s burger houses. This town, in the outskirts of London, was, as his parents used to say, a cross between urban and rural but without the good bits. Lots of buildings but no interesting shops, lots of fields but no peace and quiet.

The queue shuffled onwards, mainly old ladies with their shopping bags. When Chad reached the front, he presented his bus card without looking up, so that he would not show his face. He was nervous but attempted to hide it. He twitched his hands impatiently, willing this godforsaken bus driver to hurry up. Surely it didn’t take this long to check his card. He began to move away, hoping that this might make his intentions to be quick obvious. Just when he thought the driver was finally going to hand back the card, she said,

“’Ang on! Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Chad snapped back to reality, his senses heightened. He was going to have to run for it. Looking behind himself he considered his options, and decided that he would go back from where he came, because by the time he reached the door at the back the driver would have pressed the button to close the doors, and he would be trapped. He mentally counted down, but before he could finish, the woman piped up again:

“Yeah, you’re that boy what was in the paper, at the school! Charlie, that’s your name, wunnit?”

A huge wave of relief swept over Chad. This woman hadn’t recognised him as the boy on the run, presumably because he was about seven when he had his photo taken for that card. Trying to mask his gladness, he mumbled from beneath his hood,

“It’s Chad, not Charlie,” and snatched his card from her in such a way that she would think twice about trying to engage in conversation with him again. He went to take a seat, as close to the door as possible, just in case anyone else noticed whom he was.

Chapter 2

The bus journey crawled by while Chad envisaged what might happen if he was caught. He considered his parents’ reactions, but even those would probably dwarfed by the bullies, who would never let him forget his attempt to escape his ordeal. He imagined that the physical bullying would grow, and that he would retaliate, do something stupid in the heat of the moment and then live to regret it for the rest of his life. Of course, that was a bit drastic, but Chad couldn’t see any other way back than to escape or to strike back so hard that the bullies wouldn’t go near him again. However, he knew that he was probably far too weak for that, so running was the only realistic option.

Chad knew what his parents would say if he told them about the bullying. They would say that the bullies were just jealous of him, and tell him to rise above it. But it wasn’t that easy, because even if he closed his outer shell and ignored it, the words somehow had a deep psychological effect that penetrated that shell and upset him underneath. Why was it bad to be intelligent? Why was it laughed at to gain good marks? If there were one thing Chad thought he would never understand, it was why the bullies hated him for being bright.

The bus stopped with a jolt, awaking Chad and filling him with an unfamiliar sense of adrenaline. Adventure was sparse in his life and for a change, he was doing something out of the ordinary. He leaped off the bus and sprinted towards the wall that governed the boundary of his grounds. The bus stop was five hundred yards from the entrance, but Chad didn’t want to risk being seen so he climbed the wall, using conveniently weathered bricks as footholds. Once at the top he jumped into a pile of leaves and rolled, so as not to hurt himself.

He quickly took in his surroundings and once he had his bearings he headed in the direction of the river, where he intended to gather his thoughts and plan his next move. He couldn’t spend too long around here, but on the other hand his parents surely wouldn’t search their own grounds if the house was miles away from the school. They would probably be searching the town, far away from his scent so he would have maybe a night to spend by the river, under the cover of the bordering trees.

Chad was usually a deft hand at navigating the woods on his country estate, but on this chilly afternoon, as the sun was setting he tried to convince himself that he was not hopelessly lost. If he could find his way back to the wall, he could follow it towards the river and then head downstream.

Instead, moments later he found himself stumbling through some thick bushes and out into the relative daylight of the riverbank. He praised the heavens for bringing him out where he needed to be and headed towards the bridge and the mini-jetty he had erected over the river in the previous summer. He could start a small campfire here, and then move into the woods for the night before moving in the morning.

Living in such surroundings, Chad had often been camping on the grounds and as such had over time picked up some basic methods of survival, like making a fire without a match and building a shelter in the woods. So it wasn’t long before he had a fire going, and was feasting on stolen biscuits from his rucksack. The fire was just for heat; he didn’t have anything to cook. The heat made him drowsy, and as he lay back he considered just sleeping where he was. His thoughts drifted away and began to manifest themselves as dreams while sleep took Chad in its wonderful embrace.

He slept no more than fifteen minutes before he was rudely awoken by a crash and splintering of wood. Immediately he jumped up and readied himself to escape, but instead he was faced with a small wooden rowing boat with nobody distinguishable manning it. It was heading towards the mini-jetty where Chad moored his own boat, albeit on the other side.

Wood struck wood, sending a shiver through the planks beneath Chad’s feet. The boat came to rest with its flank against the wooden ladder that descended to the riverbed, as if inviting him to climb down and board it

It was still now, but not silent. On the deck lay a long box of wine-red wood, studded with tiny, tarnished mirrors. From within came a soft but insistent knocking.

Ignoring this strangely rhythmic knocking, Chad noticed with surprise that the boat was not in fact unmanned. Behind the chest lay a young man, clothed in sopping wet rags. It became apparent that he was dead, and upon further inspection he guessed that the man had drowned. As he examined the ghostly white body, carefully peeling off the rags, he saw a large burn mark over the corpse’s chest that appeared to be made up of hundreds of tiny letters. Looking still closer it seemed that the letters were swimming around, like diminutive fish confined to this body, reorganizing themselves, and they finally settled to form words. The message, Chad could see, was short but sharp: “Great danger awaits. Leave this boat and never turn back.”

He couldn’t work out what had given this warning. Was this ‘man’ still alive? Was he some sort of strange, unknown alien? Or was this mysterious creature that continued to knock in an uncanny beat the cause of all this? At least, Chad presumed it was a creature, as he couldn’t imagine a knocking just occurring out of the blue. Perhaps the knocking meant something; it followed a strange beat. Chad scoured his brain for what it could signify. Perhaps it was Morse code? Whatever it was, he could not understand. He began to step out of the boat and leave this surreal scene, returning to the comfort of his home, when the knocking turned into a low pitched whine, which grew louder and louder until it was almost unbearable. The box was rocking side to side manically. It was clear that whatever was in there was desperate to escape from its wooden incarceration. Chad began to ponder the thought that this dead ‘man’ had possibly been killed by whatever was in this box. He held his ears and fell to the ground, huddled up in a ball, as the low-pitched whine became a high-pitched screech.

Chapter 3

It was breaking out. The creature was pounding at it wooden confinement and the chest would not survive much longer. The mirrors that studded the box one by one began to shatter as the screech reached just the right pitch. It was now only a matter of seconds before the wood would splinter and Chad would be as dead as the ‘man’, lying there in his drenched rags. His mind screamed out, ‘RUN!’ but his body, frozen by fear, remained static.

He frantically searched around for something that he could use against whatever this monster was. The problem was that trying to move his legs was like trying to sprint the hundred metres through treacle. In his frenzy to either escape or find a weapon, Chad nearly missed the dead ‘man’s’ chest starting to glow, the burn mark illuminating to such intense brightness it became impossible for him to look at it. The ‘man’ started to speak, but in a spooky way. His lips were moving but the rest of his body remained eerily motionless and you could be forgiven for thinking that a dead man was talking.

Indeed, that was what was happening. He spoke in a harsh tone, as though possessed by some demon.

“Give up your fight now, foolish Slayer! I have already pushed your soul to the edge of its confines and soon -” Suddenly, the voice was cut off and replaced by a barely audible whisper that sounded pained and full of effort.

“You will not possess me! I shall f…fi…fight!” Whoever was speaking was trying to sound affirmative, but it was clear that they were losing this battle. As the anomalous burn mark began to stop glowing, the letters quickly spelled out another message: ‘Help me! You can stop the demon by attacking the creature in the chest! Use the harpoon!’

As if the message epitomized a call to arms, Chad’s body sprang to life and he instantly located the aforementioned harpoon. He clutched it, feeling its weight and power. He knew that saving this ‘man’s’ life would rely on his immediate and unhesitating compliance with his instructions. Chad strode towards the nearly ruined chest and positioned the harpoon above it. Summoning all his strength he raised it above his head, and then thrust it down with such force that it struck the riverbed. A sickening cry filled the air, a cry so hideous that it rattled his very skull. Then, silence reigned, and the chest fell still.

Chad watched as the colour began to return to the ‘man’s’ body, and he knew that he had won the battle for him. He saw the ‘man’s’ lungs beginning to work again, and his heart starting to beat. An enormous sense of fulfilment filled Chad, accompanied by dread that his life might never be the same again. He guessed that after what he had seen, this ‘man’ would not let him go. Not in a negative way, not being kidnapped. Chad could sense that this surreal scene had been part of a greater mission and he imagined that he might have some part to play in it. And if he did, he knew that this man would be with him every step of the way.

Chapter 4 - NEWLY REWRITTEN!

It was only when the boat began to fill with water that Chad registered that the hole he made with the harpoon was sinking it. He scrambled to drag the man back onto the mini-jetty as the boat went down. He managed to heave over the chest before the boat disappeared beneath the water.

As the man began to regain consciousness, he did not at first know where he was. He seemed unable to even lift himself, sapped of all his strength by the battle. When he did finally prop himself up, a flash of realisation crossed over his face. He began shouting in some foreign tongue before Chad calmed him down, and he reverted to English. He was worried about the creature: whether it was dead, whether it had escaped, whether it had attacked Chad.


“I stopped the creature, like you told me. You displayed some words, on your chest… what was that?”


The man chuckled, “Oh, just a gift that I have!”


Chad was infuriated. He had just saved this man’s life and here he was, treating him as though he was an infant. Both of them knew perfectly well that it wasn’t normal for a human to be able to display words on their chest, and this man seemed to be doing his best to hide the truth from Chad.


“A gift? A gift? What kind of human can leave messages on their chest?” Chad was ranting now, adamant that this man would tell him the whole truth.


“Oh sorry,” he replied with another chuckle, “I haven’t enlightened you, have I?”


This just served to madden Chad even more. He had saved this man from death, and at this stage he could send him back there very easily. But he knew he mustn’t let his temper get the better of him, so he refrained from taking any action and instead channelled his rage into his reply.


“I don’t know what the heck is going on here, but I’ve been anything but enlightened and right now you are driving me mad. I risked my life to save yours; can you at least try to explain some of this to me?!”


Now it was Chad’s turn to be calmed down, and when steam had stopped pouring from his ears the man began to speak.


“ I am part of – how shall I put it – an organisation. It’s called the Clan, and it’s unbeknownst to humans. I can’t tell you any more now, but that you are part of a greater mission. I need you to come with me, and although it may seem like trusting a complete stranger, it’s necessary, I’m afraid.”


Chad, free of rage now, began to think. It was clear to him that what had happened today must bear some significance, and be part of something bigger. The weird things that had happened today, and the weird features of this man couldn’t be explained by him, and besides, he was sure that the man would let him go, if he so desired. So reverting to his normally meek, shy self, he inquired,


“Sorry, Sir, but where are we going?”


“Oh, no need to call me Sir! My name is Johannes, but call me Han. What’s your name?”


Han had just directly avoided Chad’s question. He wondered if he was deliberately keeping the truth from him, and if so he was clearly not a trustworthy person to follow.


“I’m Chad, but I was wondering where we are going, because you didn’t answer my question.”


Chad was being bold, because he seemed to have nothing to lose. Backing down to the bullies hadn’t worked, and if he was to go with this man he wanted to appear affirmative.


“Sorry, I didn’t mean to avoid your question, Chad. It is hard to explain where the Clan headquarters are, but I can tell you that first we must head downstream to a meeting point I arranged, so that we can hand over the creature. I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait and see.”


This man certainly had an air of mystery. It left Chad’s mind racing, with so many questions being left unanswered. How could it be hard to explain where something is? Why could Han not tell him about the words on his chest? But just like in the movies, this air of mystery attracted Chad, rather than repelling him. He really wanted to find out the truth, and unravel the mystery of what had happened today. And besides, he was sure that the beds at the Clan Headquarters were nicer than the woods.


Han seemed to read his thoughts and assured him that he would be allowed to return if he wanted. He set off, as if the decision had already been finalised and Chad had no choice but to follow. But as he walked, many questions lay unanswered in his mind. He realised that this Clan must be very important and that if he had managed to kill that creature and been told to follow Han, then he must have a huge part to play in all this. And slowly, he began to grasp the true scope of what had happened today.

stuaem wrote:Now, he could sit back and relax, and savour his time on Earth, which came few and far between

"few and far between" is used after a plural, eg, "the times he had to relax came few and far between."

stuaem wrote:three hours time in order to hand it over to the experts

Second paragraph is written well. Good insight into character, provokes interest.

stuaem wrote:There were woods on his left and his right.

I might just be being picky, but I feel like you could be more eloquent here, eg, "There were woods to either side."

stuaem wrote:He sighed as he watched the wildlife scurrying through them,

Again, I have no real logic here; I just feel deep down that 'scurrying through them' is worded wrong and 'scurrying' is just... a word... that has specific uses... like something small and defeated that is fleeing... 'scurried away.' It looks too elaborate as well. All you need is a simple line like "He sighed as he watched the wildlife within."

That third paragraph is still very good and makes me intrigued as to the situation/crisis occurring with the mutants, as does the paragraph after that.

stuaem wrote:Harnessing that split second of surprise he flung it back down again, but as he did that, his eyes made the smallest of contact with the creature’s eyes

I was going to say stuff about changing 'smallest' into 'shortest' (which is still valid) but it sounded kind of weird, so I think you should reconfigure that bit into something like 'his eyes made split second contact with the creature's.'

This was a good introduction and had a good cliffhanger.


I notice in your other critique you don't have chapter four up so instead of critiquing the first three chapters I'll just do this one.

Er, actually, from chapter two:

Just reading through quickly, I noticed in the last paragraph:

stuaem wrote:He couldn’t work out what had given this warning. Was this ‘man’ still alive? Was he some sort of strange, unknown alien? Or was this mysterious creature that continued to knock in an uncanny beat the cause of all this?

These questions are asked with more knowledge/suspicion than I feel like Chad should have, but maybe I missed something because I was reading fast.


Okay, now I'm at chapter 4.

Seeing 'man' constantly is really annoying.

Is there any reason why Chad should think him not a normal guy? If I saw him on the street I'd still think he was human, albeit maybe a weird looking one. If Chad found Johannes' name on one of his possessions you would make things a lot simpler.

stuaem wrote:‘Slayer of Otherworldly Creatures’

COME ON MAN! Slayer of Otherworldly Creatures?! You can do better than that. What if it was like, "and that he was known as the Aetoma." A name like that is much more mysterious and ... not ... cliche.

stuaem wrote:There were different sections: alien intelligence, alien technology, the Army against aliens etc.

"the army against aliens" sounds awkward and ill-conceived. I would suggest something like 'alien combat unit.'

Nothing really wrong with the rest of this paragraph structurally, though I feel that this chapter was too short and the revelation of Chad's fulfillment of the prophecy too quick. Johannes isn't really acting like he just escaped from death--he isn't exhausted, or wanting to lie down, whatever. If he doesn't need to indicate this. There was too many information about the clan in such a short time. Also, I think that in presenting the information you should use more dialogue... that's just personal preference.

So yeah, for that one, slow it down, space it out.

Oh, and one last thing:

stuaem wrote:“Dear boy, if my suspicions are correct, you are far more than just a potential clan member.

Dear boy? Sounds like grandpa.


Good story overall. I don't like it when such big opportunities simply fall into the character's lap--'hey, guess what, you fulfilled the prophecy!' but that's just me.

I look forward to reading more.

Thank you very much, I will definitely be taking your advice onboard. It is really helpful to have such a detailed critique!

Have rewritten and updated Chapter 4, will implement changes to the rest of the manuscript shortly!