This is a very rough draft of chapter 1 of my first story. Any critiques would be more than welcome
! Don't be afraid to go tough 
. I am working on the prelude and chapter 2 right now. Thanks.
Chapter One
A dark, sullen being with seal brown hair and piercingly clear blue eyes was just barely distinguishable sitting on a mahogany platform bed. Piles of dirty laundry, CD cases, magazines, and books were strewn about on the grey, carpeted floor. Pictures of various rock bands were plastered askew on the walls and door. Why me? thought the indistinct 15 year old to himself. Every day they pick on me about my name, appearance, heritage, everything! A burst of light shattered the darkness as the door flew open.
“Cuileìn, Cuilén” yelled his eight year old sister, Elizabeth, as she bounded into the room. “Guess what I did today!”
“I don’t care” he yelled back as he shoved her to the floor. As she plummeted to the ground she struck the corner of his dresser and released a yelp of pain. Their mother, Annaìbla, rushed to the source of the screams. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded as she cradled Elizabeth in her arms.
“I dunno” he shrugged, “She must have slid while she was running”.
His mother eyed him sharply. “How was school?” she asked gently.
“It was fine” he snapped back.
“Have you finished your homework? If so could you please bring Grandpa back the book he lent to Elizabeth?” Annaìbla inquired.
“Aw, Mom! Not Grandpa John! He’s crazy! He always is trying to sick on me some dumb story or get me to recite a knight’s code.” Cuileìn said with an exasperated toss of his arms.
Annaìbla sighed, “Please just do this for me and mind your Grandpa. You may not appreciate it now but it might come in handy someday”.
“Fine!” he growled, “I’ll go”.
As Cuileìn left the house, Elizabeth, who had been stifling a sob, crumbled into her mother’s arms and began weeping.
“Oh Mom!” she sobbed, “Why does he keep acting that way? We used to laugh and have fun together, now whenever I come near he acts as if he can't stand me!”
“I don’t know” Annábla sighed, “I just don’t know.”
As he trudged along the snow covered streets of Chicago to his grandfather’s city slum apartment Cuileìn defiantly huffed. Who cares about some stupid fight that happened centuries ago and people that are dead. Not like it has anything to do with me.
Grandpa John was thought to be some sort of mastermind historian. If he wasn’t inventing some sort of contraption he was working on research of the middle ages. When you walked into Grandpa John’s apartment you could find pretty much anything but the floor. The shelves were crammed with all sorts of inventions and Celtic medieval artifacts. His roll top desk was covered with all sorts of calculations and thesis’. Grandpa John’s apartment always smelled of musty books and sometimes of experiments that went less than perfect. As Cuileìn entered the apartment his Grandpa’s Labrador Retriever cross, Tothel, jumped up on him barking joyously and wagging his tail. “Get down, you crazy dog” he muttered, trying to shove the dog down. After removing Tothel from his chest Cuileìn shouted “Grandpa, I brought back the book Elizabeth borrowed”.
“Who’s there?” asked his Grandpa.
“It’s me, Cuileìn, your grandson” he sighed.
“Dag nabbit! Where are my glasses?” asked his Grandpa as he started searching through a precarious stack of papers. Once found, Grandpa John delicately wiped the lenses on his shirttail and placed them on his face. “Oh” he beamed, “It’s you Cuileìn. Why didn’t you say so? You’re just the one I wanted to talk to”.
“Why? What?” Cuileìn questioned.
“I have some books and articles for you about Celtic culture and the Vikings” Grandpa John replied.
“I don’t want your stupid books Grandpa!” said Cuileìn.
Grandpa John sighed, “When you Elizabeth’s age you loved to come here and read my books. Laughing, Grandpa John said, “I used to have to force you to go home. What happened”?
“I guess I grew out of pretending in fairytales unlike some people” said Cuileìn with a look of icy disdain.
Grandpa John frowned deeply as he turned around and walked to his desk. After being attacked by various falling items and muttering a few indistinguishable words, Grandpa John extracted a CD and handed it to Cuileìn. “Here, take this. I made it for your 18th birthday but I believe you should have it now” he said. Cuileìn sighed, took the disk and shoved it deep in the pocket of his down jacket. “Now, be gone with you and don’t come back here until you’ve completed that” Grandpa John said making a motion towards Cuileìn’s pocket. Being finished exchanging words, Cuileìn turned on his heels and left. “That boy doesn’t even know what he’s getting into” Grandpa John muttered to himself as he scratched Tothel behind the ear. “I pray to God that everything turns out alright”.
Along the way home, Cuileìn decided to take a shortcut through some side alleys. As he rounded a corner Cuileìn ran into J.K. and the Vultures. Now, The Vultures, as they were called, were a group of about twenty, ages ranging from 14 to around 20. They were branded with their name because of their trademark way of circling their prey, giving biting remarks that would sink through the flesh of even the toughest skinned individuals. When they felt the urge, they also lashed out with physical abuse. The gang chose weak prey and feasted, like the monstrous vultures that they were, on the collapse of their victims esteem. The Vultures leader, J.K., although already had filled out his 18 years in height and weight, was only in the 10th grade. He and Cuileìn shared Mrs. Violous’ history class. At the beginning of the year, Cuileìn was a straight A student at the head of his class. J.K., who was lucky to scrape by with a C, became infuriated with Cuileìn’s cleverness at something that he was a complete dunce at and made him the center of the Vultures’ attention.
When J.K. spotted Cuileìn, he rose up from his throne on the hood of an old Camaro.
“Cuileìn, our favorite little buddy” said J.K. with a wicked smile.
Cuileìn froze midstride in his tracks. No,No! Please not again, thought Cuileìn, his eyes darting nervously back and forth searching for a way out. Cuileìn’s appearance now was one of a trapped animal with a stiff, rigid form and dilated, fearful eyes. He spotted what appeared to be an open area to the left and made a mad dash for it. Right as he began to believe that he would was going to make it through, a giant Vulture stepped out, blocking the path.
“Guys, looks like his royal highness, Cuileìn, here thinks he’s too good for us. Why don’t we do him a favor and teach him some manners” said J.K. with a disdainful look cast in Cuileìn direction. J.K. then gave an invisible signal to two gang members, one short and stout, the other tall and thin. They stepped out towards Cuileìn, the tall one grabbing his arms while the stout fellow delivered a blow right into Cuileìn’s gut, bringing him to his knees. Once down, each Vulture took a turn beating him and yelling derogative names. At first Cuileìn released loud screams of pain but gradually they became lesser and lesser until they were just barely audible. After about 6 minutes, which seemed like an eternity to Cuileìn, J.K. lost interest and called the Vultures off. “Well now, Cuileìn” he hissed, “Hopefully you’ve learned some proper manners now.” With that being said, The Vultures vacated, leaving Cuileìn bleeding and quivering on the damp ground. Cuileìn remained curled up in a ball for a few minutes waiting for all his muscles to relax. Okay, you can do this, he thought, Pull yourself together. Forcing himself to relax, Cuilén slowly pulled himself up on the rough, craggy wall pausing when he felt nauseated. He lightly fingered a hole in the wall, cursing himself for going in an alley instead of staying on the sidewalk.
Cuilén walked slowly home waiting for the bleeding to stop and for his head to stop spinning. It was half hour after dark when he reached his small, suburb house. Cuileìn tried to sneak in the back door dismayed to find his mother sitting in a chair, waiting for him. “Where where you?” his mother demanded, leaping up, her hazel eyes sparkling with anger. “I was worried sick! I called Grandpa and he said that you left hours ago” she said.
“I was just taking a walk” he replied sheepishly.
“What happened to you? You have cuts and bruises everywhere” she asked in a concerned voice. She gently extended her hand to touch his eye. Cuilén avoided her touch and said “I’m going to my room”.
“Wait. We need to talk” his mother said, “Mrs. Violous called a couple hours ago. You’re failing history”.
“It’s not my fault Mom” Cuileìn argued.
“Don’t start with me Cuileìn, maybe if you would spend more time studying and less time playing on the computer than we wouldn’t be having this conversation” she snapped. “Now, your teacher agreed to let you pass if you get an A on this next test”.
“Whatever” he said and slammed the door of his room only to open it back up a few seconds later.
“Where is all my stuff?!”
“Until you bring your grades back up you are grounded from TV, computer games, and all your video games!”
“That’s not fair!”
“It is and there will be no argument you understand?”
“Yes Mam” he whispered hotly turning to go back to his room. Cuilén abruptly turned around and shouted “you’re the worst mom ever!” After the words escaped Cuileìn’s lips he immediately regretted them as he saw a painful look come over his mother’s face and a tear roll down her worn cheek.
Cuileìn sullenly went to his room and took out his frustration on the room as he searched for his history book, finding it in the back of his closet, under a pile of laundry. After studying for an hour, Cuileìn decided that any game would be better than studying. Grandpa must have forgot to tell Mom about the game he gave me he thought smugly as pulled the game out of his jacket pocket. When he opened the disk’s case, a list of instructions floated gently to the floor by his feet. He didn’t even bother to pick them up and read them as he inserted the disk. A few seconds later the agreement to download screen popped up. Lazily Cuileìn pushed the “I agree” button without reading the words not realizing the significance of what he had just done. To a casual observer the downloading screen looked like any other but if read closely along with the normal items it would have said:
“Who so downloads this vortex era alterer will be transported back in time and will not come back until their prophecy is fulfilled. The producer of this vortex era alterer is not responsible for any injuries or death while in use.”
The computer started humming as the disk began loading. Suddenly his room seemed to start spinning with the disk. Cuilén shook his head, thinking that it was just his head bothering him from being hit so many times. The lights then started flickering a light, hazy blue color as the humming grew louder. Terrified, Cuileìn tried to scream but to no avail. As the lights went out completely he felt the air suddenly become damp around him. He started hearing savage screams and roars, and a metallic noise that startled him even more. The noises seem to come closer and closer as he slowly began to see light appear in front of him. With a sudden gust of wind, Cuilén was suffused by light. As his eyes adjusted to the light, Cuilén was surprised to see what appeared to be a battlefield. He felt himself gently land right in the middle of it, men and horses were running in every direction. OK thought Cuileìn, There is no way this is real, I must be dreaming. When he turned around he was surprised to find a massive, menacing man clothed in furs right behind him with a club. The next thing he knew, Cuileìn felt severe pain rush up and down his body as a blunt force hit him in the head. Everything began to go dark as Cuileìn collapsed on the ground. Before his eyes closed on their own accord, he saw what appeared to be a brilliant, emerald dragon flying overhead, scorching the group of soldiers next to him with its scarlet flame. “Impossible!” he whispered.
.