Published March 11, 2010
Prolouge
I’m traveling in a meadow. It seems surreal. I decide it isn’t real. I know I’m dreaming.
“Rage. Rage. Rage.” The word is pounding with every step I take, with every breath I take. I fight the instinct to scream. Instead, I focus on taking in every detail of this meadow.
It’s bright and sunny a cliché of a day. I’m wearing my school uniform, and I’m ashamed that my subconscious can’t think of anything cooler. The wind plays with my skirt, black and purple plaid. It blows my hair back and I pull my blazers closer to my body. There’s something about this wind. It’s strong and forceful. It’s trying to make a point. I’m walking with no point. I’m headed towards a white mist. The mist engulfs me.
“Shit!” I say out loud. I stumble over unseen rocks.
“Rage. Rage. Rage. RAGE!” It increases. With it increases my heartbeat. I can’t see where I’m going and I freak, starting to run. A twist of my ankle and I’m falling over a cliff.
************************************
I trace my fingers along the walls of the cave. The Legends are written in blood. It looks like human blood, glimmering and shining in the moonlight.
The moon is full. It’s full and beautiful, yet dark and ominous at the same time. I take a deep breath in. A light wind plays with my hair and blows with my shirt. I’m affronted by an image. I shut my eyes. The image is burned on my eyelid8s. She’s beautiful. A sweet, sarcastic smile, black hair with red undertones. Her skin is a creamy white.
I open my eyes again, and resume staring at the legends, in the old markings
Ωηατ βινδσ ιν βλοοδ ωιλλ φρεε ηερ σουλ. I stare hard. In my head, I translate that to what binds in blood will free her soul. I shiver. What binds who in blood? It’s the same legend I’ve been going over for months now. Frustrated, I turn away from the cave wall to my packs. I open one and pull out a pair of motor biking gloves. I slip them on and travel out of the cave.
“Rage and Fury, I’m looking for you.” I whisper. I walk out into the night.
************************************
Am I in hell? I wonder as flames engulf me. They dance around, teasing and mocking me. I shiver, despite being in a circle of fire.
“Fury, fury, fury.” The words banged around my like a drum. It makes me dizzy and weak. The flames lash against my skin. They don’t leave burn marks. They feel cool and refreshing. No. I am not in hell. I’m dreaming. My stomach is churning. The beat of the invisible drum surrounds me. I crumple and fall as the world fades to black.
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You did a good job for the most part. The main issues were with the prose. It seemed choppy in places. Here's an example.
Try, "It increases, and my heartbeat with it."
Haha, great metaphor.
Also, it's "Prologue" not "Prolouge".
Good job though. I really could not find much wrong with this.
You already said that it seems surreal. You don't need the second sentence.
This is too repetitive. I would just say "pounding with every step I take, with every breath."
This is a little confusing. Is the wind black and purple plaid, or the skirt?
"I freak" doesn't really fit the style of the story. "I panic" fits better.
This is a really abrupt scene change. She just fell off of a cliff and now she's in a cave?
How can she tell that it's human blood? Doesn't all blood look alike? Would you really be able to tell the difference between human blood and, say, cat blood?
You say that the flames are "lashing" against her skin, but you also say that they feel cool and refreshing. The word "lash" doesn't make me think of something refreshing. Maybe change it to something that fits better.
Well, this was interesting. It was a little confusing, though, with three different scenes and settings kind of jumbled together. You should add some more description, too. That would make everything easier to picture. I can't wait to see where this is going.