Young Writers Society

The Beginning

Prologue

There was a flash of white as he rounded a corner and through the damp, dark corridors. His lab coat trailed behind him like a phantom, as if haunting his every step. Breathless and anxious, he heard another crash and immediately quickened his pace. The ragged, shallow gasps coming from him could be heard throughout the entire mansion. Another flash. He rounded several corners briskly. Ahead of him, at the end of the hallway, a mahogany door suddenly appeared out of thin air- almost as if by magic. Radiant blue, purple, and white sparks shone brightly through the cracks of the door, revealing something chaotic was happening behind it.

“No,” The man whispered, horror widening his emerald green gaze. He stopped a few feet away from the door- his snow, white lab coat swishing behind him. “This can’t be happening. I’ve made sure to securely-“

Immediately, his sentence was cut off as a strong gust of wind swept him off his feet and sent him flying through the air until he slammed against the stone brick walls behind him. The man narrowed his eyes as he sensed what was about to happen next. He could not move nor blink as the harsh winds kept him rooted against the wall.

The door practically exploded, sending splinters flying everywhere; bright fluorescent lights shining in his eyes and blinding him temporarily. Red spots danced across his eyes and he shook his head vigorously, trying to dispose of his temporary loss of sight. He blinked, suddenly visualizing seven blurry figures surrounding him. Each wore a sly grin and their shadowed bodies flickered and shimmered.

His heart fell as he recounted. Yes. There are seven of them. Clearing his throat, which of course did not help because his voice was still hoarse as he spoke, he said, “There are more like me, young ones,” The man coughed. “And although I will be no more, they will continue our fight. We will stop you, no matter what. There is no room for S.I.N. in this world.” The green-eyed man glared defiantly and drew his thumb across his heart in the shape of an X. It was the sign of the Synthes.

“Be gone now, Dmitri Grey. Your fight in this battle is over,” The seven Spirits whispered, each of their voices blending into one unity. Their voices ricocheted against the walls and bounced back, hissing threateningly into Dmitri’s ears. But he did not cringe nor flinch. He merely stood his ground, eyes closed and a hand placed gently over his heart.

“It’s over,” They said in unison. One by one, the figures opened their fists and extended their arms, each pointing their palms towards Dmitri. “But not for us.”

Blazes of light blasted from their palms and shot towards Dmitri, who opened his eyes to stare right into its embers and smile crookedly. There was a flash. There was a supersonic boom. And then there was darkness.

And yes, yes, I know. The corny is pretty cliche and dumb. Any comments on how to make it... better? xD

Hi.

It is a bit cliched, but I wouldn't call it dumb. I hate judging stories harshly with such a narrow window as a prologue, because there is so much yet to be told. Well. This certainly projects a hardy frame for future story developments, and I'm sure its contents will be less opqaue as the story progresses.

That said, do you have any notion of the future of your story, or justification for what went on in this prologue? In other words, do you know where your story is going, if not down to the very paragraph, then at least vaguely? This prologue is a premonition of a very...multidimensional story. Hidden plots, all that. With these kinds of stories, I find it infinitely easier to proceed with a fairly detailed plot already mapped out, so that I'm able to catch each one of the strings I let lose in the beginning, or at least most of them. An impromptu mentality will inevitably land you in a sticky situation in regards to the plot. I call this mentality the "gardener's mentality;" it is the better of the two in the cases of stories that are more character-based, so that the author is allowed to let the devlopments of the characters' personalities and relationships to dictate where the story ends up. The "engineer's mentality," which involves, as detailed above, rather scrupulous planning, is the preferred method of authors whose stories revolve more around the plot, and the characters are secondary. Examples of engineers: Rowling, Tolkien, Lewis, Wells, etc. Fantasy/sci-fi epic geniuses. Realistic fiction writers, whose plots tend to be, in accordance with the normality of everyday life, simpler, take the path of the gardener.

Urgh. Branching off into my own observations, sorry. In conclusion: you should probably do some planning before proceeding with this. Back to your story.

His lab coat trailed behind him like a phantom, as if haunting his every step.

Interesting bit here. I'm not sure if the metaphor was intentional or not, but it and the imagery fused pretty powerfully.

He blinked, suddenly visualizing seven blurry figures surrounding him.

Incorrect word choice here. "Visualize" means to imagine a scene in your mind. "Observing" or "noticing" would be more appropriate, if less appealing in terms of verbosity, words in this scenario.

In the way of grammar:

1. You occasionally diverge from a homogeneity in tense. This seems to be mostly past tense, but there are a few verbs set in the present.

2. A grammatically correct dialogue tag is written as follows:
"Hello," he said.
Not
"Hello," He said.

3. Finally, why is your dialogue bolded?

'Kay. Hope this helped.

-Kafka