Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Delete?
I might delete this blog soon. Keyword here: might. After all, much of my story planning goes in my head, and most of the time, my writings are spontaneous, without much premeditation. I've got another blog to post any random thoughts, which pretty much reduces my need for this blog. But I'm a little reluctant about deleting this. I guess I'll wait and see.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Prologue
It was the smell of smoke that had roused him. It filled his lungs, burned the insides of his throat, making him cough and sputter to consciousness. He put out his hands in front of him, waving frantically as if to ward off phantoms, still coughing and choking on the thick plumes of smoke. His eyes snapped open, and for a moment he could only see a blur of vivid oranges and angry reds glaring back at him. He fought back the sudden dizzy spell that threatened to drag him back into unconsciousness, pulling the collar of his shirt up so it covered his nose and mouth. His skin seemed to burn with the heat radiating around the room.
His legs were shaky, knees trembling as he pulled himself to his feet. He put a hand out to steady himself, but couldn't find anything to hold on to. Finally finding his balance, he shambled about in the room, now an unfamiliar inferno. Great columns of flame towered over him wherever he went as thick black smoke starved the air of oxygen. Disoriented, he stumbled around, blindly searching for an exit. He had to get out, fast.
Sweat drenched his shirt, and the heat was so intense it threatened to drive him insane. Fighting off the urge to pull off his shirt, he repeated a word in his head like a mantra, reminding himself of his number one priority. Escape escape escape escape escape ...
"Help!" a desperate cry erupted from somewhere off to his left. He turned, only to be met with a wall of fire. The flames seemed to lunge out at him, and he fell back a step, shielding himself with an arm. Going that way was a bad idea. More fire. More thick black smoke. Damn it -
"Help me!" the same desperate woman's cry. He recognized the voice. No, it can't be -
Against his better judgment, he jumped straight through the wall of fire, bracing himself for the pain ... but none came. He could feel the heat of the flames, yes, but no pain. There was no searing sensation rippling across his skin, and for a moment he thought he'd burned his skin so badly he couldn't feel a thing anymore. He stared down at himself for a moment. Untouched, as if he'd imagined that he had jumped through a wall of fire.
"Help!" the voice again, more urgent now. A fit of coughing followed this.
"Where are you?" he called out, voice hoarse from the dry air and smoke. His blue eyes searched, frantic, and found nothing but fire. Everything around him burned, and he couldn't identify anything familiar. The smoke was making him dizzy now, it seemed to make his head spin and for a moment he was certain he might pass out -
No! He bit down on his tongue, hard enough to draw blood. The sting of it jeed him to alertness, the salty taste of his own blood making him gag in disgust. Blood had always made him feel sick; he spat it out, retching.
"I'm right here!"
"Where?" he coughed.
And within the next few minutes of searching and navigating his way through thick smoke and flame, he found her, trapped under rubble. The fire had eaten away through almost everything in sight, and whatever had crumbled down had fallen on the woman. She was now trapped from waist down.
"Help me," she pleaded, her gaze boring deep into his.
But by then he'd already realized who she was, and instead of feeling sorry for her, he could only feel rage boiling within him. Gazing in those eyes, he didn't see love in them anymore, merely lies and betrayal. His hands curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palm.
Help her, a distant part of his mind begged. After all, she's your -
"No."
Then he turned around and stepped into the flames, disappearing from sight.
AN: Rough draft, possibly the finalized prologue. Thoughts?
His legs were shaky, knees trembling as he pulled himself to his feet. He put a hand out to steady himself, but couldn't find anything to hold on to. Finally finding his balance, he shambled about in the room, now an unfamiliar inferno. Great columns of flame towered over him wherever he went as thick black smoke starved the air of oxygen. Disoriented, he stumbled around, blindly searching for an exit. He had to get out, fast.
Sweat drenched his shirt, and the heat was so intense it threatened to drive him insane. Fighting off the urge to pull off his shirt, he repeated a word in his head like a mantra, reminding himself of his number one priority. Escape escape escape escape escape ...
"Help!" a desperate cry erupted from somewhere off to his left. He turned, only to be met with a wall of fire. The flames seemed to lunge out at him, and he fell back a step, shielding himself with an arm. Going that way was a bad idea. More fire. More thick black smoke. Damn it -
"Help me!" the same desperate woman's cry. He recognized the voice. No, it can't be -
Against his better judgment, he jumped straight through the wall of fire, bracing himself for the pain ... but none came. He could feel the heat of the flames, yes, but no pain. There was no searing sensation rippling across his skin, and for a moment he thought he'd burned his skin so badly he couldn't feel a thing anymore. He stared down at himself for a moment. Untouched, as if he'd imagined that he had jumped through a wall of fire.
"Help!" the voice again, more urgent now. A fit of coughing followed this.
"Where are you?" he called out, voice hoarse from the dry air and smoke. His blue eyes searched, frantic, and found nothing but fire. Everything around him burned, and he couldn't identify anything familiar. The smoke was making him dizzy now, it seemed to make his head spin and for a moment he was certain he might pass out -
No! He bit down on his tongue, hard enough to draw blood. The sting of it jeed him to alertness, the salty taste of his own blood making him gag in disgust. Blood had always made him feel sick; he spat it out, retching.
"I'm right here!"
"Where?" he coughed.
And within the next few minutes of searching and navigating his way through thick smoke and flame, he found her, trapped under rubble. The fire had eaten away through almost everything in sight, and whatever had crumbled down had fallen on the woman. She was now trapped from waist down.
"Help me," she pleaded, her gaze boring deep into his.
But by then he'd already realized who she was, and instead of feeling sorry for her, he could only feel rage boiling within him. Gazing in those eyes, he didn't see love in them anymore, merely lies and betrayal. His hands curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palm.
Help her, a distant part of his mind begged. After all, she's your -
"No."
Then he turned around and stepped into the flames, disappearing from sight.
AN: Rough draft, possibly the finalized prologue. Thoughts?
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