InnerVoice wrote:Prologue
Blackbark Woods was not the sort of place one thought of when dreaming up images of healthy, green trees or small, friendly critters. The trees of Blackbark wereactuallyvery ugly, consisting of large, misshapen trunks, twisted branches, and brownish, rotten-looking leaves. The woods were considered strange for a number of reasons. For one, no living thing had ever been witnessed to live in Blackbark, be it a great doe, a small rabbit, or even a tiny, pesky fly. For another, the mass of hideous trees was always silent. No matter how hard the wind blew, a rustle of leaves could never be heard. However, the oddest trait of the place was the bizarre black bark that covered every single tree. Because of its strangeness, Blackbark Woods was considered wicked and most, if not all folk left the ominous woods alone.
your writing, although very well written, falls into a rhythmic pattern. This happens alot when writers describe things. For example: bizarre black bark, every single tree. Can you see that it has the same pattern? the problem with this is that is makes the reader conscious of the writing rather than allowing it to flow as they read.
This night, however, was different from all other nights. There was a woman in Blackbark; a woman as strange as the woods itself. She was running in nothing but a long nightgown, not even a pair of shoes gracing her feet. In her arms, she held onto what appeared to be a bundle of cloth. She ran quickly, leaping over overgrown roots and paying no mind to the occasional branch that nipped at her gown. Even the hard rocks littering the ground didn’t seem to bother the barefoot young woman as she sprinted by tree after tree. Not until she reached a small clearing some miles into Blackbark, did she finally stop. I love strange women :]
The woman’s labored breathing was the only noise that could be heard as she leaned tiredly against the rough bark of a particularly large tree. She allowed herself to rest for only a moment, wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed at her brow with one hand. With the other, shestilltightly hugged the bundle of cloth to her chest. The young woman tucked a strand of black hair behind one ear and took a deep, calming breath before crouching to the ground. Her eyes were impossibly sad as shefinallylooked down at the bunch of cloth in her arms. In reality, her bundle was much more precious than simple cloth. Within the soft, blue fabric was a baby.
Awesome paragraph, it really drew me in.
Still squatting, the woman positioned the small child as comfortably as she could against the bottom of the blackened tree trunk. Her delicate hand trembled as she reached forward to cup the baby’s soft cheek.
"And, what in the blazes do you think you’re doing, girl?”
Quickly snatching her hand back, the woman whipped her head around to the source of the abrasive voice. good diction She twisted her body forward, blocking the child from view as she took in the appearance of her unexpected visitor. The figure, standing on the opposite edge of the clearing, was draped in a heavy cloak, a hood masking the stranger’s face. “Who are you?” the dark-haired woman questioned harshly, voice still raspy from being out of breath. “What’s your business in the woods?”
The onlooker released a slow, ironic chuckle in response to her questions. “It is not I who is a stranger in this place, but rather you, my lady. And it is not I who am acting peculiarly, but you.” nice dialogue.