Falloutgirl
Member
I've been working on this for about a year and a half but the idea started a little before that. It started of well until my computer contracted every virus known to man and shut down (calm down, this one is new and virus free). i started again with a better and revised plot and this is my prologue. i have a mild fear that it may be too short by the way so please tell me what you think. more, maybe? 
Dice was standing at the summit of a small, bare hillock. His eyes absently skimming the desolate scenery. Waiting. The landscape was a backdrop of dark gloom; cold and grey and lifeless. It stunk of hopelessness and despair. The skeletons of vacant, crumbling buildings stood out behind the lesser residential slums like blunt, dusty turrets. They’d been empty for years now since nobody could afford to live in them anymore. Indeed most of the population of Gale had resorted to living in homes of their own fantastic creation in The Sticks. In fact Dice didn’t know a single person who still lived in an actual house. Every singe one of the shacks in The Sticks was unique, custom made from any manner of miscellaneous junk. Economic recession and the fact that it had torn down the city in but a few months meant that people couldn’t even afford to have money, let alone spend it. To keep up the pretence even the rich lived in The “dreaded” Sticks, the poor toiled in them. Life was a burden in itself. Dice was part of the unfortunate latter and could envisage the inevitable near future. It was ******* bleak. The people were doomed, on the brink of extinction at the rate they were dying; the government was bleeding them dry because they were too broke to compensate for the money they’d spent, which meant they could not possibly revive the city’s dying trade. The Protector of Mydria itself was a bloodsucking tyrant and… Dice exhaled sharply, a pained expression flawing his handsome features. And the love of his life hated him.
But it was the end of yet another day and none of the events following up to this second were going to take this private moment away from him. It was the fact that at night The Sticks was, without the shadow of a doubt, the most breathtaking place in the kingdom. Just the way the moonlight sparkled on it. This was why he was there, up on the nameless hill, every night. He’d discovered it one day while loitering around this very spot when the sun began to set. It was the result of all the colorful sheet metal and other recyclables people used for building material, he realized. At the moment it was twilight, although the sky was darkening rapidly. Dice turned his gaze away from the ground to the sky very briefly.
Soon the evening would be imposed with the day’s new rules. The curfew had been changed-again- and nothing moved on the bleak horizon. With time the sky turned a rich and alluring navy and the full, silvery moon glowed brighter. Anticipation prickled the tips of Dice’s fingers and his survey of the land became more intense, this was his favorite part. As the moon shined, its light reflected off the walls, roofs and windows of The Sticks. All the insane colors and inventive medley of textures merged together to create this phenomenal sight. In an instant, as the moon aligned itself to the perfect angle, the ground before him lit up like a multicolored checkerboard. A free, open smile tweaked the corners of his mouth. He savored the moment with all the memory space he could retrieve because this was the last time he was seeing it.
Dice turned on the spot, making a 180 degree turn and raised his left hand. It glowed faintly. In one quick, fluid movement he traced a vertical line in the air then watched as a thin, green line materialized out of nowhere. The line widened into a sizeable gap, first wide enough for him to slip his fingers through. Then his hand. His arm. Eventually it became so big that he stepped right through it and disappeared.
Prologue: The gatekeeper
But it was the end of yet another day and none of the events following up to this second were going to take this private moment away from him. It was the fact that at night The Sticks was, without the shadow of a doubt, the most breathtaking place in the kingdom. Just the way the moonlight sparkled on it. This was why he was there, up on the nameless hill, every night. He’d discovered it one day while loitering around this very spot when the sun began to set. It was the result of all the colorful sheet metal and other recyclables people used for building material, he realized. At the moment it was twilight, although the sky was darkening rapidly. Dice turned his gaze away from the ground to the sky very briefly.
Soon the evening would be imposed with the day’s new rules. The curfew had been changed-again- and nothing moved on the bleak horizon. With time the sky turned a rich and alluring navy and the full, silvery moon glowed brighter. Anticipation prickled the tips of Dice’s fingers and his survey of the land became more intense, this was his favorite part. As the moon shined, its light reflected off the walls, roofs and windows of The Sticks. All the insane colors and inventive medley of textures merged together to create this phenomenal sight. In an instant, as the moon aligned itself to the perfect angle, the ground before him lit up like a multicolored checkerboard. A free, open smile tweaked the corners of his mouth. He savored the moment with all the memory space he could retrieve because this was the last time he was seeing it.
Dice turned on the spot, making a 180 degree turn and raised his left hand. It glowed faintly. In one quick, fluid movement he traced a vertical line in the air then watched as a thin, green line materialized out of nowhere. The line widened into a sizeable gap, first wide enough for him to slip his fingers through. Then his hand. His arm. Eventually it became so big that he stepped right through it and disappeared.
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