Young Writers Society

Quote:
There was a soundless explosion of light-blinding him-he couldn’t see anything! He cried out, but what emerged was not the frightened cry of a boy; instead the soft cry of a barn owl invaded the silent night. What was this? He ruffled his feathers in an agitation that faded as his visibility returned. He could dimly see two figures struggling but who was winning? Spreading his wings to an impressive 5 ft, he dived straight down from the branch on which he was perched- giving the hapless boy vertigo-then rose steeply, on silent wings. As he closed the distance his keen eyesight returned—just in time to see the man plunge the spear into the now cowering old woman. He screamed in pain as he felt something rip through his chest…losing control, he spiraled down to slam into the ground in a flurry of feathers…



What the heck is going on here? When the heck did this happen?

Is this a part of the dream sequence or is this actually happening?

Since everyone has already nit-picked at the grammar I will simply comment.
This is a type of story I haven't read in a while I'm normally reading about dragons and wizards. But, this is something different sort of like a trip to an exotic land for me ( I know I know I'm weird) but that's how I will describe the way I felt while reading. But I must say this exotic land was quite interesting.(still speaking metaphorically) But it is poetical and if you intend for the story to be that way that's okay because its I can still understand it but, it dose go a lot smoother if you use simple words.

[pre]PROLOGUE[/pre]

[pre]In an ordinary world, through an ordinary town, in which there was an ordinary street, there walked a…not so ordinary woman. Short in stature, she had a sturdy frame complemented by a full thatch of snow white hair pulled back in a tight bun. Clutching her bag to her chest, she walked forth slowly, with a determination that seemed to belie her elderly frame. Down the tree lined avenue, past the moonlit suburban homes, she walked until-at last-she reached her destination. Slightly out of breath, she straightened her bent posture, blew a few stray white hairs away from her face and critically appraised the home she had journeyed so far to see.

[pre]At first glance all appeared well, but upon closer inspection it was clear something was not right. The broken toys on the lawn, the covered windows, and the overall look of disrepair-of neglect-told another story. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath then followed that inhalation down to her core, there to find a power; a gift handed down through her line since time immemorial. Calling upon it, she drew it upwards, and opened her eyes to look upon the Unseen World. The buildings, and trees, were all the same but overlaying them now was a ghostly radiance which in most cases shone brightly…all except for the house in front of her—smothered in darkness, it literally pulsed out evil.[/pre]

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath then followed that inhalation down to her core...

[pre]Thrusting aside her growing fear - the old woman stayed utterly still, testing, searching for any weakening. She had to draw on reserves she didn’t know she had to perform this feat, but do it she did. Sensing a momentary diminishing, she threw her arms open; her head back…and began to hum an ancient mantra. As the first pure notes hit the air, her skin began to glow, enhancing the brightness of her white hair. All around her motes of incandescent light began to appear; swirling around her in a cyclone of radiant brilliance. The song grew in complexity, harmony, and beauty—overwhelming all else-- until by the last dazzling crescendo the darkness had retreated, the wind died down, the dogs had been silenced and all was returned to the norm. [/pre]

[pre]The old woman let her arms fall back to her sides, lowered her head to look straight ahead and spoke to the shadows: “Show thyself” she said “I know you remain yet.” From the darkness there came a hearty chuckle, and slowly the night manifested itself into the form of a tall man who proceeded to stride into the light, smiling broadly. “I applaud your efforts madam” he said clapping slowly “But I am, shall we say, beyond the scope of your powers”. Even as he was saying this she was shaking her head, trying to deny what she was seeing; if it proved true her life was forfeit. For she looked upon the form of Ankhar the Servant of Death. [/pre]

[pre]"No, no, no, NO!" she shouted this last denial "This cannot be. You and thy kind were banished from this Realm, Daemon!" Thoroughly unperturbed by this outburst, Ankhar merely dusted the spittle from his immaculately tailored grey-and white manservant uniform. Doffing his bowler hat; with an unnaturally wide grin slicing open across his face, he said: “The key word in that sentence, madam, was were." Now with an unmistakeable menace in his eyes: "We were banished..."[/pre]

CHAPTER 1.

[pre]The boy twisted and turned; sweat pouring off his weakly struggling form. His legs were tangled in knotted sheets and he tried, in vain, to cry out-to somehow escape from a nightmare that had him thoroughly ensnared:[/pre]

Knotted sheets? You mean like the kind which you use to run away from home? If the sheets are tangled, then let them be tangled.

[pre]Across the road, through a window in a derelict house, he saw: there was an old woman with glowing white hair having what was obviously a heated exchange with a man…clothed exactly like and with the mannerisms of; a butler. If that was odd then what happened next was frighteningly unusual. The “butler” grabbed an obsidian spear from apparent nothingness and in one smooth motion hurled it…[/pre][/quote[

Is this a part of the dream sequence or is this actually happening?

[pre]Moonlight streamed through the window illuminating the room; casting a silver glow over the bed in which the boy slept- not as restfully as he might wish. A light breeze stirred the pale, see-through curtains, alleviating a little of the oppressive heat and bringing some relief to the sweating boy. Beneath closed lids his eyes rolled frantically as he desperately tried to escape …not wanting to see the grisly end. His eyelids fluttered fitfully and for a moment it seemed as if he would wake—then his head snapped backwards and he was ripped back into the dream:[/pre]

"head snapped backwards", that sounds really painful.

[pre]There was a soundless explosion of light-blinding him-he couldn’t see anything! He cried out, but what emerged was not the frightened cry of a boy; instead the soft cry of a barn owl invaded the silent night. What was this? He ruffled his feathers in an agitation that faded as his visibility returned. He could dimly see two figures struggling but who was winning? Spreading his wings to an impressive 5 ft, he dived straight down from the branch on which he was perched- giving the hapless boy vertigo-then rose steeply, on silent wings. As he closed the distance his keen eyesight returned—just in time to see the man plunge the spear into the now cowering old woman. He screamed in pain as he felt something rip through his chest…losing control, he spiraled down to slam into the ground in a flurry of feathers… [/pre]

What the heck is going on here? When the heck did this happen?

[pre]The boy's back arched; mouth open in a silent scream of agony. The chords and veins in his neck clearly visible as he strained to loose a cry of pain…tears formed and leaked at the edge of closed eyes as he failed. The pain eventually faded and his exhausted body slumped into blissful oblivion.[/pre]

You know, if it gets that painful, usually the person wakes up.

[pre]Away to the east, in an ordinary street within an ordinary town, an unusual and unnoticed event occurred. There lay, in a dilapidated house darkened by the death of an innocent, the body of an old woman cruelly murdered. Her once bright hair was now dull, tarnished by dirt-by blood and her once whole chest now bore a terrible wound. Her body, cold with death, began to jerk and twitch uncontrollably and slowly—slowly a form began to emerge. First a ghostly beak, followed by a large body and truly massive wings; a Spirit Eagle took to the air. The physical world having no barrier it could not cross; it shot through the roof and into the night sky. Circling once over the house and loosing a heart-wrenching mourning cry; it paid homage to the old woman, before speeding away.[/pre]

Well, that's nice. Now that the woman is dead, can we get on with the story?

[pre]Through a window illuminated by moonlight, the bird flew, with unerring accuracy to the sleeping heir of a forgotten legacy. Without hesitation the Spirit Eagle dove, straight through the boy’s chest, to reside at his spiritual core. For a moment there was no sign that anything had even happened—then slowly an exquisitely detailed picture of an eagle began to burn into his skin. Thankfully the boy was thoroughly unconscious as this was extremely painful. As the welts began to fade, there remained an artful tattoo depicting an eagle; wings outstretched, talons poised.[/pre]

That day a boy died. A Shaman was born.

I'm really liking this so far, Jiggy.

I really think you try to make it too poetic, perhaps too complicated. You seem to use a lot of big words, which only complicates the sotry and takes away from the actual events. I think if you used simpler words that mean the same thing, it will read much more smoothly.

The old woman let her arms fall back to her sides, lowered her head to look straight ahead and spoke to the shadows: “Show thyself” she said “I know you remain yet.” From the darkness there came a hearty chuckle, and slowly the night manifested itself into the form of a tall man who proceeded to stride into the light, smiling broadly. “I applaud your efforts madam” he said clapping slowly “But I am, shall we say, beyond the scope of your powers”. Even as he was saying this she was shaking her head, trying to deny what she was seeing; if it proved true her life was forfeit. For she looked upon the form of Ankhar the Servant of Death.

PROLOGUE

In an ordinary world, through an ordinary town, in which there was an ordinary street, there walked a…not so ordinary woman. Short in stature, she had a sturdy frame complemented by a full thatch of snow white hair pulled back in a tight bun. Clutching her bag to her chest, she walked forth slowly, with a determination that seemed to belie her elderly frame. Down the tree lined avenue, past the moonlit suburban homes, she walked until-at last-she reached her destination. Slightly out of breath, she straightened her bent posture, blew a few stray white hairs away from her face and critically appraised the home she had journeyed so far to see.

At first glance all appeared well, but upon closer inspection it was clear something was not right. The broken toys on the lawn, the covered windows, and the overall look of disrepair-of neglect-told another story. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath then followed that inhalation down to her core, there to find a power; a gift handed down through her line since the time when it was given; eons ago. Touching it fired her blood and heightened her senses, allowing her to see with the acuity of an eagle and smell with the sharpness of a wolf...the pervading odour was one of decay. Calling upon her power, she drew it upwards, and opened her eyes to look upon the Unseen World. The buildings, and trees, were all the same but overlaying them now was a ghostly radiance which in most cases shone brightly…all except for the house in front of her—smothered in darkness, it literally pulsed out evil.

Stilling instinctive recoil, the old woman took a steadying breath and calmed her recalcitrant stomach. Slowly, she approached the door. By the time she reached the doorstep—and it seemed like forever—everything in her was screaming Leave! Leave! Be gone from this place of evil!!! But she could not, for she had a duty to fulfil. Raising a shaking hand she extended her arm outwards, to knock on the door, only to have the door swing open at the faintest touch. Following the eerie creak she stepped forward into a well of darkness, silence…anticipation? Looking around she was able to make out a couch, a TV on a stand, and at the back of the room a dusty looking staircase leading up into the unknown. Her skin rippled with goosebumps as a sense of intense menace; of malevolence washed over her. For a moment nothing happened and she was relieved- then with a heart-wrenching slam the door banged shut behind her, enclosing her in night. There a followed a howl of utter fury and a rushing wind, stirring the darkness all about her-tearing, ripping, snatching at her. Lights flashed- blinding her, dogs barked- deafening her. Windows opened and shut- distracting her.

Thrusting aside her growing fear - the old woman stayed utterly still, testing, searching for any weakening. She had to draw on reserves she didn’t know she had to perform this feat, but do it she did. Sensing a momentary diminishing, she threw her arms open; her head back…and began to hum an ancient mantra. As the first pure notes hit the air, her skin began to glow, enhancing the brightness of her white hair. All around her motes of incandescent light began to appear; swirling around her in a cyclone of radiant brilliance. The song grew in complexity, harmony, and beauty—overwhelming all else-- until by the last dazzling crescendo the darkness had retreated, the wind died down, the dogs had been silenced and all was returned to the norm.

The old woman let her arms fall back to her sides, lowered her head to look straight ahead and spoke to the shadows: “Show thyself” she said “I know you remain yet.” From the darkness there came a hearty chuckle, and slowly the night manifested itself into the form of a tall man who proceeded to stride into the light, smiling broadly.[/pre]

“I applaud your efforts madam,” he said clapping slowly, “But I am, shall we say, beyond the scope of your powers." Even as he was saying this she was shaking her head, trying to deny what she was seeing; if it proved true her life was forfeit-- she looked upon the form of Ankhar the self-titled Servant of Death.

"No, no, no, NO!" she shouted this last denial. "This cannot be. You and thy kind were banished from this Realm!!" Thoroughly unperturbed by this outburst, Ankhar merely dusted the spittle from his immaculately tailored grey-and white manservant uniform. Doffing his bowler hat; with an unnaturally wide grin slicing open across his face, he said: “The key word in that sentence, madam, was were." Now with an unmistakeable menace in his eyes: "We were banished..."

*******************************

The boy twisted and turned; sweat pouring off his weakly struggling form. His legs were tangled in twisted sheets and he tried, in vain, to cry out-to somehow escape from a nightmare that had him thoroughly ensnared:[

Across the road, through a window in a derelict house, he saw: there was an old woman with glowing white hair having what was obviously a heated exchange with a man…clothed exactly like and with the mannerisms of; a butler. If that was odd then what happened next was frighteningly unusual. The “butler” grabbed an obsidian spear from apparent nothingness and in one smooth motion hurled it…

Moonlight streamed through the window illuminating the room; casting a silver glow over the bed in which the boy slept- not as restfully as he might wish. A light breeze stirred the pale, see-through curtains, alleviating a little of the oppressive heat and bringing some relief to the sweating boy. Beneath closed lids his eyes rolled frantically as he desperately tried to escape …not wanting to see the grisly end. His eyelids fluttered fitfully and for a moment it seemed as if he would wake—then his head snapped backwards and he was ripped back into the dream:

There was a soundless explosion of light-blinding him-he couldn’t see anything! He cried out, but what emerged was not the frightened cry of a boy; instead the harsh cry of a golden eagle invaded the silent night. What was this? He ruffled his feathers in an agitation that faded as his visibility returned. He could dimly see two figures struggling but who was winning? Spreading his wings to an impressive 10 ft, he dived straight down from the branch on which he was perched- giving the hapless boy vertigo-then rose steeply, on silent wings. As he closed the distance his keen eyesight returned—just in time to see the man plunge the spear into the now cowering old woman. He screamed in pain as he felt something rip through his chest…losing control, he spiraled down to slam into the ground in a flurry of feathers…

The boy's back arched; mouth open in a silent scream of agony. The chords and veins in his neck clearly visible as he strained to loose a cry of pain…tears formed and leaked at the edge of closed eyes as he failed. The pain eventually faded and his exhausted body slumped into blissful oblivion.

Away to the east, in an ordinary street within an ordinary town, an unusual and unnoticed event occurred. There lay, in a dilapidated house darkened by the death of an innocent, the body of an old woman cruelly murdered. Her once bright hair was now dull, tarnished by dirt-by blood and her once whole chest now bore a terrible wound. Her body, cold with death, began to jerk and twitch uncontrollably and slowly—slowly a form began to emerge. First a ghostly beak, followed by a large body and truly massive wings; a Spirit Eagle wrestled its way free and took to the air. The physical world having no barrier it could not cross; it shot through the roof and into the night sky. Circling once over the house and loosing a heart-wrenching mourning cry; it paid homage to the old woman, before speeding away.

Through a window illuminated by moonlight, the bird flew, with unerring accuracy to the sleeping heir of a forgotten legacy. Without hesitation the Spirit Eagle dove, straight through the boy’s chest, there to reside at his spiritual core. For a moment there was no sign that anything had even happened—then slowly an exquisitely detailed picture of an eagle began to burn into his skin. Thankfully the boy was thoroughly unconscious as this was extremely painful. As the welts began to fade, there remained an artful tattoo depicting an eagle; wings outstretched, talons poised.

That day a boy died. A Shaman was born.

there to find a unique power handed down through her line since time immemorial

I think you could really get a great story out of this so please don't disappoint with further chapters!

In an ordinary world, through an ordinary town, in which there was an ordinary street, there walked a…not so ordinary woman.

there to find a unique power handed down through her line since time immemorial.

She had to draw on reserves she didn’t know she had to perform this feat, but do it she did.

From the darkness there came a hearty chuckle, and slowly the night resolved itself into the form of a tall man who proceeded to stride into the light, smiling broadly.

Doffing his bowler hat; with an unnaturally wide grin slicing open across his face,

I love the description and the wording, please keep that up. I like the ending of this part to, very nice cliff-hanger, leaves you waiting for more. I think you could really get a great story out of this so please don't disappoint with further chapters!

P.S. I want to know what exactly you thinks bad about my story so please tell me, I'd value your option very much.

Thanks guys. Twilight, you have the right of it; it was a sort of excorcism. I havent written the story in its entirety yet...actually to be truthful I wrote the prologue on the fly, so im not entirely sure where its going to go-- but i think i can safely say its set in modern times: where there is a severe shortage of shamans! lol. The next installment will be along shortly.

Once again, thanks for input.

I love anything paranormal it is sort of a magnet to me I can't stay away from this stuff. I'm quite familiar with shamans so the story wasn't confusing to me in fact it was interesting. I like the way you describe how she draws out the evil I guess you'd call it an exorcism or something. The detail was enough to paint a simple picture in my mind in my mind. You did say it was a normal town but is it in modern times or is it set in a different era? That is the main thing on my mind. I don't quite know how the story will turn out but so far so good. I'll keep reading as long as you keep posting.

Halleleujay!! (is that spelt right?) Thank you, very much. I appreciate it.

Don't thank me yet. I'm not sure if you expected me to write more, or not, but I will anyway.

1. I'm not sure how it fits into the rest of the story. maybe you could give some more clarity. I'm not sure, though, because I haven't seen the story. More description and detail couldn't hurt. For example, the street scene. What about it seems ordinary? Does the lady seem to fit in, or does she stand out immediately with having dealings with the supernatural?
2. You could do more with some diction, you could toy with more hook options (whatever it is that grabs the reader at the beginning). I think you could use the same idea, but maybe take it from a different angle. Try different tones. Maybe you want foreboding at the very beginning. Mess around with it.
3. Some of your diction was well-chosen, ex. the smile slicing his face Unpleasant.
4. It probably does illustrate the mood of your story, but I'll let you decide. I can try to tell you, but I'm not very good. Hm...Sort of has the feeling of an old-world being revived into a new era, one we're familiar with (maybe?) so that it feels closer to home. Foreboding, impending doom...??

I may be wrong, but there is never any harm in experimenting and revising (unless, of course, you haven't finished writing the story. Then I would advise doing that first, from personal experience and lectures I've gotten. Endless revising and no task-orientation is my weakness). I'd like to see some more detail and description, possibly, but that's up to you. You don't have to overdo it, but more wouldn't hurt.

Clutching her bag to her chest, she ambled forth slowly, with a determination that seemed to belie her elderly frame.

To walk slowly or leisurely; stroll.

No please, dont inundate me with opinions.
and I accidentally cut out "feedback appreciated" in the original post. Just incase you were wondering.

In case the last part was missed I will repeat it again: Feedback appreciated!
Was it an appropriate prologue?, did it tell you enough about the nature of the story? Was it poorly written, etc.
Come on ppl help me out.