R Vengeance
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- Joined
- Oct 13, 2007
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- 5
I recently thought of an idea for a novel and was hoping to get some constructive criticism on the opening chapter. This is the first draft.
As night fall approached, the Prince came upon another town. Swinging in the wind, a rusty sign welcomed him to Galen. The sign connected occasionally with the rusty gate behind it, slightly ajar and spattered with blood. The fence ran along the perimeter of the town, though much of it had been torn down.
Just time maybe? he thought to himself. More likely bandits or other creatures.
The Prince spat into the cool breeze. He let out a sigh, and stepped over the carcass of a dog as he entered the small town. He could see the whole village, really. A few poorly constructed buildings lined the sides of the streets. Unlike the majority of the places he had passed on his journey so far, every building still stood tall, albeit with smashed windows and missing doors. In the fading light, he could just make out the edge of the town, past the library and the saloon. He took a few steps forward, gazing across the street at an empty porch. The windows, too, showed no signs of the life.
"Deserted," the Prince muttered to himself. He thought briefly about the other towns he had been through in the past few weeks, of the desolation that had crept across the land so recently. It seems the only life he'd encountered so far had been of the malevolent nature. His hand twitched, fingering the stitching on his holster.
The tall man stood still, allowing himself to take in the village. Perhaps he was allowing the village to take him in, too. He wondered what anyone who might be looking at him would think, a newcomer standing at the entrance of their world, wearing filthy jeans with a matching filthy shirt, and a hand hovering over his revolver. They certainly wouldn't guess that his blood was royal, or that royalty still meant something to anyone. After all this time, people just stopped caring. This apathy led to forgetfulness, and the things they had taught themselves to hold important had faded from their memories.
Several seconds of silence passed, and he relaxed a bit. He glanced down, scanning the ground around him. There were a few more pitiful animals, some half-eaten, lying out in the sun. He'd seen the same thing so many times, everything was beginning to run together. The Prince started to hope that perhaps someone was watching him, at least a little human company would distract him from all the death.
"Why am I even here?" he asked himself, taking a few steps forward. After all of this time wandering, he still hadn't found his answer, he was only grateful that he had a purpose at all. He kept walking.
The dark of night was creeping ever closer and the Prince decided it wise to find a resting place for the night. Ever since these dark times had fallen upon the world – ever since the Shadow Bringer had made his presence known – it was highly dangerous to walk the desolate plains at the best of times, never mind when the only light came from the stars in the night sky. He could already hear haunting howls in the distance, and they belonged to creatures deadlier than wolves.
Stroking his stubble briefly, the Prince scanned the village for a moment and his eyes fell upon perhaps the only building with a door still attached. “INN” the sign simply read, and the Prince made his way in.
Upon entering, the stench of death hit him immediately. It had been faint, easy to ignore, in the abandoned street, but here he was enclosed with it, and it was enough to make his stomach turn. The Inn was a small building and from the entrance the Prince could see only one door leading off into another room, and a set of stairs that presumably led to the guest rooms. Across the counter lay a man, his flesh severely decomposed, and one arm hung from his shoulder only by thin sinew, whilst the other was missing completely. This man was the source of the overwhelming scent upsetting the Prince’s stomach.
Covering his face with one hand, the Prince grabbed the dead man’s arm, grimacing as it tore away from it’s owner. That obviously wasn’t going to work, so the Prince instead grabbed the man by his legs, and carefully dragged him from the building. That would help little, he guessed, but it would put his mind at ease to know he wasn’t sharing accommodation with a corpse. As the Prince turned to re-enter the Inn, he could have sworn he saw movement in the corner of his eye. His hand on the handle of his trusty revolver, the Prince turned quickly and caught further movement, coming from the building opposite.
“Who goes there?” he yelled across the empty street. No answer.
Of course there’s no answer, the Prince thought to himself. You’re so desperate to find other human life that you’re imagining things.
After looking across the street a moment longer, and even waving, the Prince turned back to the Inn. The door still had a working bolt, and the Prince put this to good use before making his way upstairs. The second floor of the building smelt a little better, though it was far from ideal. There were three rooms, each small, each with just a single bed. Back in Oppulus, the Prince was used to accommodation made for royalty, which consisted of sleeping quarters bigger than this whole Inn, and bed covers made from the finest materials. Right now this six-by-three foot bed with its thin, stained sheets, and lack of pillow looked like heaven; after all, he had grown accustomed to sleeping rough over the past year.
“This will do fine,” the Prince thought out loud. He removed only his muddy boots before climbing into the bed. The day had been yet another long one, and sleep came almost instantly.
Unfortunately the rest would be short lived, as the Prince was disturbed later that night as he dreamt of home.
==============================
As night fall approached, the Prince came upon another town. Swinging in the wind, a rusty sign welcomed him to Galen. The sign connected occasionally with the rusty gate behind it, slightly ajar and spattered with blood. The fence ran along the perimeter of the town, though much of it had been torn down.
Just time maybe? he thought to himself. More likely bandits or other creatures.
The Prince spat into the cool breeze. He let out a sigh, and stepped over the carcass of a dog as he entered the small town. He could see the whole village, really. A few poorly constructed buildings lined the sides of the streets. Unlike the majority of the places he had passed on his journey so far, every building still stood tall, albeit with smashed windows and missing doors. In the fading light, he could just make out the edge of the town, past the library and the saloon. He took a few steps forward, gazing across the street at an empty porch. The windows, too, showed no signs of the life.
"Deserted," the Prince muttered to himself. He thought briefly about the other towns he had been through in the past few weeks, of the desolation that had crept across the land so recently. It seems the only life he'd encountered so far had been of the malevolent nature. His hand twitched, fingering the stitching on his holster.
The tall man stood still, allowing himself to take in the village. Perhaps he was allowing the village to take him in, too. He wondered what anyone who might be looking at him would think, a newcomer standing at the entrance of their world, wearing filthy jeans with a matching filthy shirt, and a hand hovering over his revolver. They certainly wouldn't guess that his blood was royal, or that royalty still meant something to anyone. After all this time, people just stopped caring. This apathy led to forgetfulness, and the things they had taught themselves to hold important had faded from their memories.
Several seconds of silence passed, and he relaxed a bit. He glanced down, scanning the ground around him. There were a few more pitiful animals, some half-eaten, lying out in the sun. He'd seen the same thing so many times, everything was beginning to run together. The Prince started to hope that perhaps someone was watching him, at least a little human company would distract him from all the death.
"Why am I even here?" he asked himself, taking a few steps forward. After all of this time wandering, he still hadn't found his answer, he was only grateful that he had a purpose at all. He kept walking.
The dark of night was creeping ever closer and the Prince decided it wise to find a resting place for the night. Ever since these dark times had fallen upon the world – ever since the Shadow Bringer had made his presence known – it was highly dangerous to walk the desolate plains at the best of times, never mind when the only light came from the stars in the night sky. He could already hear haunting howls in the distance, and they belonged to creatures deadlier than wolves.
Stroking his stubble briefly, the Prince scanned the village for a moment and his eyes fell upon perhaps the only building with a door still attached. “INN” the sign simply read, and the Prince made his way in.
Upon entering, the stench of death hit him immediately. It had been faint, easy to ignore, in the abandoned street, but here he was enclosed with it, and it was enough to make his stomach turn. The Inn was a small building and from the entrance the Prince could see only one door leading off into another room, and a set of stairs that presumably led to the guest rooms. Across the counter lay a man, his flesh severely decomposed, and one arm hung from his shoulder only by thin sinew, whilst the other was missing completely. This man was the source of the overwhelming scent upsetting the Prince’s stomach.
Covering his face with one hand, the Prince grabbed the dead man’s arm, grimacing as it tore away from it’s owner. That obviously wasn’t going to work, so the Prince instead grabbed the man by his legs, and carefully dragged him from the building. That would help little, he guessed, but it would put his mind at ease to know he wasn’t sharing accommodation with a corpse. As the Prince turned to re-enter the Inn, he could have sworn he saw movement in the corner of his eye. His hand on the handle of his trusty revolver, the Prince turned quickly and caught further movement, coming from the building opposite.
“Who goes there?” he yelled across the empty street. No answer.
Of course there’s no answer, the Prince thought to himself. You’re so desperate to find other human life that you’re imagining things.
After looking across the street a moment longer, and even waving, the Prince turned back to the Inn. The door still had a working bolt, and the Prince put this to good use before making his way upstairs. The second floor of the building smelt a little better, though it was far from ideal. There were three rooms, each small, each with just a single bed. Back in Oppulus, the Prince was used to accommodation made for royalty, which consisted of sleeping quarters bigger than this whole Inn, and bed covers made from the finest materials. Right now this six-by-three foot bed with its thin, stained sheets, and lack of pillow looked like heaven; after all, he had grown accustomed to sleeping rough over the past year.
“This will do fine,” the Prince thought out loud. He removed only his muddy boots before climbing into the bed. The day had been yet another long one, and sleep came almost instantly.
Unfortunately the rest would be short lived, as the Prince was disturbed later that night as he dreamt of home.
