The Breathers - Prologue

Prologue

It is a common assumption amongst my kind that the first kill is always the hardest. The trouble usually begins in silencing your victim. First you must find the chosen one. Attract them somewhere where their screams will not be heard, and prevent them from running away as you do what is asked of you. As you can imagine, for a beginner it is hard to finish the job. On the contrary, my first kill was one of my easiest. Picture this: a darkened alley, a drunken fool. Who could have asked for a better location?

I could taste the breather's fear on the tip of my tongue; its bittersweet tang entwined itself around it before he even came into sight. That's the thing about us Dooms. Our sense of taste is always on guard even if we ourselves are not. Silently, I slinked down the alley, my raven hair brushing my shoulders. I snuck behind him, the taste on my tongue growing stronger. He deserved what he had coming to him.

The man wobbled where he stood - he had had more than his fair share of alcohol. In his left hand he held a half-empty bottle of vodka. How I savoured that glorious smash as he fell to the ground. He spun around when he realised he was being watched.

My emerald eyes pierced his brown ones. A new flavour appeared on my tongue. It was subtle, but there all the same. Lust. Mangled, misshapen and forever present. We Dooms are renowned for our beauty, how could I even expect a mere human to resist it? This victim desired me, but at the same time, feared me. I used this to my advantage.

I edged closer to him, tension running through my cold veins. Take it... I persevered. It was not time yet. Cursing myself for my impatience, I continued my duty. We stood eye to eye. I lent over, he shut his eyes, expecting a kiss. My nostrils flared - his breath stank of cigarettes.
Stretching a long, pale finger out I started to beckon his soul, whispering the incantation I had been taught in my training. The moment was finally here - the silver, wispy soul drifted out of his body and into my palm.

I felt it's warmth in my hand, and a rush of adrenaline to my skull. I felt powerful - alive. The man's corpse hit the floor hard and he lay awkward on the concrete surrounded by dustbins. The taste of fear disappeared. He was most definitely dead. The warm blood that ran through him would soon be cold like mine - only he wouldn't wake up. Without another word, I slunk back out of the alleyway. Too easy. I would kill again. But this time, I would make it more of a challenge.

Kills: 1
Mistakes: 0

Questions I have!

Why do Dooms typically find the first kill the hardest? Maybe you can have anecdotes (short stories) that the author relates to to prove this. Like, maybe the main character's uncle's first kill involved this little girl on a grassy hillside, and she didn't really know what was coming to her and the uncle felt guilty. Stuff like that helps us relate to the character more, which is awesome.

Try making the character less perfect... it seems too perfect right now. Conflict is a great way to add depth to a character.

I could taste the breather's fear on the tip of my tongue, it's bittersweet tang entwinined itself

You mean its not it's. When you want to say it is then you use it's, but if you want it to be possessive, then just put its. Also, you spelled entwined wrong.

Other than that, I have to agree with Snoink. The whole 'first kill is the hardest' part was a little off to me. It was almost hard to believe since these creatures called Dooms seem so violent and cold hearted.

Other than that, though, I found you had great descriptions, and it flowed easily, allowing me to finish it out of want, not obligation to review. Good job so far.

I can tell its a good one from the fact that it captured my attention in the first sentence. My kind? What kind, I wanna know more... Result, read on. Yus, good. Though as mentioned above, you should really answer the 'Why is it so hard?' question.

Okay, on to grammar and stuff, my comments in red.

Chapter 1 - The Doom:

It is a common assumption amongst my kind that the first kill is always the hardest. On the contrary, my first kill was one of my easiest. Picture this: a darkened alley, a drunken fool. Who could have asked for a better location?

I could taste the breather's fear on the tip of my tongue, [s]it's[/s] its bittersweet tang [s]entwinined[/s] entwined, entwining? itself around it before he even came into sight. That's the thing about us Dooms. Our sense of taste is always on guard even if we ourselves are not. Silently, I slinked down the alley, my raven hair brushing my shoulders. I snuck behind him, the taste on my tongue growing stronger. Subtle description of the protagonist, good good.

The man wobbled where he stood - he had had more than his fair share of alcohol. In his left hand he held a half-empty bottle of vodka. How I savored that glorious smash as he fell to the ground. He spun around when he realised he was being watched.

My emerald eyes [s]peirced[/s] pierced his [s]own[/s] I'd cut that, it's unnecessary. brown ones. A new flavour appeared on my tongue. It was subtle, but there all the same. Lust. Mangled, misshapen and forever present. We Dooms are [s]renound[/s] renowned for our beauty, how could I even expect a mere human to resist it? This victim desired me, but at the same time, feared me. I used this to my advantage.

I edged closer to him, tension running through my cold veins. Take it... I persevered. It was not the? time yet. We stood eye to eye. I lent over, he shut his eyes, expecting a kiss. My nostrils flared - his breath stank of cigarettes.

Stretching a long, pale finger out I started to beckon his soul, whispering the incantation I had been taught in my training. The moment was finally here - the silver, wispy soul drifted out of his body and into my palm.

I felt [s]it's[/s] [color=red]its(/color] warmth in my hand, and a rush of adrenaline to my skull. I felt powerful - alive. The man's corpse hit the floor hard and he lay awkward on the concrete surrounded by dustbins. The taste of fear disappeared. He was most definitely dead. The warm blood that ran through him would soon be cold like mine - only he wouldn't wake up. Without another word, I slunk back out of the alleyway. Too easy. I would kill again. But this time, I would make it more of a challenge.

As you can see, only a few hiccups there, nothing major. I like your style, and am thinking you might have something good. You have all the base elements I usually look out for - Some detail on the characters, the environment and flow. Liked your description of the drunk especially, very detailed! Could have used a hint more on the main character though, maybe? Not too much, but just that grain of salt that leaves us hungry to discover more? As for the 'too perfect' concern voiced by Snoink, I don't rightly know... She's apparently attractive, and now that you mention it, she had little to no concerns over how it will go - Could be due to possible training or something though. Still, one might expect a first timer to be a bit less confident? But it could be just characteristical for her to be overconfident.

Gosh, this became long... Anyway, nice. Worth continuing or not? Do you enjoy writing it? If you do, go for it. I'll read and perhaps even review any upcoming material for sure, granted you can stomach my long-winded ramblings!

Thanks for all your critiques guys they were much appreciated!

I have editted this and have decided to make this the prologue not chapter one. Hopefuly it should make a little more sense now.

Hey Happy, here I am, as needed! =D

It is a common assumption amongst my kind that the first kill is always the hardest.

I agree with Snoink's comment, about giving examples about why in particular this is the case. Examples are always good - plus it will give us a better image of what creature we're dealing with, though I'm assuming at this point that they're vampires? I could be wrong.

Picture this: a darkened alley, a drunken fool. Who could have asked for a better location?

Since you want us to picture this, could you give us more to picture? More description?

I could taste the breather's fear on the tip of my tongue, it's bittersweet tang entwinined itself around it before he even came into sight.

The "breather's" sounds very awkward - unless that is what he calls humans. If it is, and he uses the phrase more than this, then that's okay. If not, then the term here is very awkward.
"It's" its.

We stood eye to eye. I lent over, he shut his eyes, expecting a kiss. My nostrils flared - his breath stank of cigarettes.

I didn't think he/she was this close to him yet. Also, I can imagine his breath can't just smell like cigarettes, when he just downed half a bottle of vodka.

I felt it's warmth in my hand, and a rush of adrenaline to my skull.

It's = its.
Rush of adrenaline to my skull... that sounds cool.

I'm confused about one thing: was this her/his first kill? Or was this a present happening? Try to clarify on which it is, because right now, it seems very natural and routine for the character. If this is the first time, try to describe it as more of a new experience.

PM me if you have questions!

~ Clo