Im going to make this a post apocalytpic/steampunk/fantasy novel. Not sure if i should have posted the prologue again but wanted to give an impression of the location and theme of the stry, if that even possible with such a small amount having been completed. Please let me know what you guys think. Critique away. This is my first piece of creative writing.
Prologue
Tonight the darkness would come with unusual haste. The days had been growing shorter and each night felt colder than the last. A lone watchman stood on the small balcony of his tower, taking in the surroundings as he tried to prepare for what was certain to take place. His post for the evening was no different to that of any other night, besides being positioned on the northern walls rather than the western.
Standing with his gaze fixed upon the horizon to the north, he could see it moving. Like a black flood the shadow rushed over the parched earth , sweeping the last fragments of sunlight from the dunes and gray skeletal trees that littered the landscape. A sharp fear came over him. Never had he seen it move with such speed. He quickly turned and dashed inside, violently slamming the heavy wooden door behind him. Frantically he grasped at one of the cold copper handles that were fixed to the wall and forced it downward. As it locked into place, the dim lights of the cramped room began to flicker, and a low groaning hum resonated from beneath the floor as a large generator buzzed and crackled with energy. It was now close enough to be heard, even over the whine of the generator as it spooled into life, shaking the room within which he had taken refuge. Shrill cries filled the air as night began to bear down upon the weathered walls. He stood fast before a large console at the rear of the room, his finger trembling as it hovered over a small black button for what seemed like an age.
“Please” he begged. His voice heavy and desperate, his eyes wide and tense. Finally, as though responding to his plea, a small, bright, red light at the base of the console began to flash, allowing his finger to finally fall upon the black button. As he pushed down, the world around him turned almost silent. A warm white light punched its way through the cracks in the walls and the space under the door and a powerful ringing filled his ears. For a brief moment a fragile hint of relief peaked through the daunted expression carved upon his face as he buried his head in his hands, shielding his eyes from the welcomed intensity of the light.
Chapter 1
The flurry of taps at the window instantly tore Alistair from his sleep.
“No,” he mumbled, his tired voice smothered by a pillow. “I'm awake...Stop it” . His feet were heavy with sleep as he swung them from the bed to the floor. He tried to focus his blurred vision on the small round window by his bedside.
“Good morning Switch”, he greeted the ash gray falcon perched outside on the sill.
With his mind free of sleep he sprang to his feet and began to search the floor for something to wear. Due to the new water rations it was still a few days before his clothes could be cleaned.
“Well...These only smell a little bit dreadful”, he muttered and began to dress in front of the mirror that occupied a large area next to the door in his circular room. His reflection was one of a very average 17 year old boy, if slightly tall for his age. It was the sharp contrast of his fair skin and dark hair which made him appear out of place. Pushing his long hair aside, he studied a dark bruise stamped under his left eye, letting out a quiet hiss as he gently poked at the swelling.
“Still sore”, he told himself, lowering his hand. For a moment he let his mind drift, staring through the reflection until all that remained was a silhouetted frame in the mirror glass.
“Okay”, he announced, shaking his head free of blank thoughts. He opened the door and waited for a moment, looking back into the room.
“Coming”? He asked, beckoning the young raptor to follow. With a quiet whistle Switch complied, excitedly jumping from the bed to the floor, springing her way across the room.
As they eagerly climbed down the spiraling stairs of the home, the sounds of laughter and quiet conversation stopped Alistair in his tracks. His father and Jen were already awake and in the living room below. He had hoped to avoid them completely this morning, and as he paused between steps, searching his mind for an escape plan, his attention shifted to the large oak door beside which he had halted. His eyes shuddered to a close as he approached it, slowly raising a hand to the ebony handle. Awkwardly he stood there frozen in thought, his hand stiff in place, too afraid and uncertain to open the door, yet not wanting to release it.
Hours could have easily drifted by if not for a frustrated shriek let out by Switch, drawing Alistair from his abstraction.
“Ali”. The deep voice of his father echoed up the stairs. “Is that you”?
“Yeah...coming”. Alistair replied with false enthusiasm, glancing at Switch with agitation. The small falcon continued after her friend, swiftly bouncing down the stairs.
