Is this a good Prologue?
The clapping of thunder drowns out his scream of pain. I turn my back to him, focusing on the storm that’s about to hit. I watch as each cloud grows thicker, darker…deadlier. Somehow, the way they slide past each other as if it’s a race, the movement describes my emotions completely. And the way the sun tries so hard to shine through their mass but never really does describes the battle playing within me. The battle of right over wrong. I feel his eyes burning into the back of my neck. I swallow before turning to face him; my breath catches in my throat as I see what I’ve done. The trust and love that used to radiate from his bright green eyes has died now. Only a mask of betrayal and hate lies within the emerald depths. I gulp. I don’t speak. I’m afraid my voice will show the weakness that I’m feeling. He doesn’t need to see me weak. He needs the truth. The truth about who I am. The truth about my legacy and his own. I want to turn away, but my eyes refuse. They want me to see what I’ve done. They want me to know how wrong I am and how weak I was for listening to them. For allowing them strip away everything that once made me Sabella Hope Sinclair. My eyes drink him in. They move from the pile of ebony that frames his porcelain face, down his ripped, blood stained shirt and stop at the wooden stake that shattered his heart. “It’s for your people. It’s for man-kind,” They’d say, their voices hypnotizing and trusting. They made me a killer. A white hand clasps the stake, as if to dig it from his skin. But it doesn’t move. He doesn’t move, nor do I. We just stand here, staring at each other. Both searching the others face. His is masked with hurt; mine is probably erased with no emotion. What is done is done. “But why did you have to do it?” His voice breaks the silence, and no thunder roars over him this time. I sigh; my eyes finally letting me look down at the ground. Soft drops of rain start to fall and the once hardened earth turns soft and muddy. As each drop falls to the ground, I realize the pattern is in the same movement as my heart beat. “Don’t you get it?” I ask, teeth clenched. “I was born to kill you. It’s always been this way…” my voice trails off as a memory of what used to be creeps into my mind: Cody and I are hidden within the dying light of evening. If anyone was to see they’d just think it was two people standing close. Our bodies were intertwined with the other. His hands were wrapped around my waist, mine in his hair, our lips meeting and molding as one. An electrifying feeling surges through my body, adrenaline pumps through my veins. But alas…I wave off the memory and it disappears like smoke from a cigarette. It was only a memory, and I finally realize what was going on: My body was reacting to how good something so wrong felt. “I was just something you could get off with?” His voice is strong; it betrays no signs of death. Why isn’t he dead yet? Why doesn’t he just give up and accept death’s sweet call? Because Cody is a fighter. A voice whispers to my mind. “Sabella…” he moans my name, his knees sink and he falls to the mud. His hands were clawing at the stake now. His voice is filled with such longing…such need. “It doesn’t have to end like this.” I laugh an evil sound that resembles a smirk and a laugh…the ghost of a laugh…that seems to be louder than the thunder’s increasing volume. I step closer to him and bend down, so that we’re both at face level. He lifts his head up with all the strength still remaining in his drained body. “My dear,” I whisper, moving closer so that our lips are barely touching. I kiss him. For the last time. “It’s already the end.” I stand up, turning away from him, and walk through the abandoned field that I chose to do the murder scene in. “Sabella, please!” I just shake my head, loosing myself in the thunder’s claps, and the strikes of lightening. They know he’s dead. The gates of hell are opening and taking him back to where he belongs. My job is done. Despite myself, I glance back at Cody’s forlorn body, which is lying on the ground now, all the fight is drained from him. I keep walking away, looking straight forward. With every step I take, the vampires blood mixes with the mud.
Asked By: Cenax - 11/10/2011
Best Answer - Chosen by Asker
Not really. The job of a prologue - and the only reason to have one - is to give readers essential background information, so they will be able to understand and enjoy the story... More
Answered By: old lady - 11/10/2011
Additional Answers (3)
Is this Twilight?
Answered By: Dennisa - 11/10/2011
I liked it. I personally dont like prologues and always skip over them. This would b a good chapter one, but its your story. And i have to say the first sentence is a little bold, but never the less interesting. But i liked it. Keep writing! :) And Good Luck!
Answered By: Whisper in the Wind - 11/10/2011
its very good and its putting a great twist on the vampire love stories we have all come to know...i like how it shows her hurt for a moment but then it is gone. You display very well a world inwhich people are taught something and they strongly believe in it, no matter what the consequences. as a suggestion i would... More
Answered By: twilight5897 - 11/10/2011
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