So in the spirit of constructive criticism I have decided to post the Prologue to my upcoming novel, Teenage Wasteland.
Keep in mind that this is the first draft so it’s kind of rough. What I want basically want to know is if this sounds interesting to you and does it make you want to read on. That’s all. If you can see any glaring spelling errors, that would be helpful too. I just cut and paste this thing and haven’t looked it over yet…so you’ll be seeing it as I see it.
Post your comments below
Cheers!
PROLOGUE
The children awoke under a pile of rubble. It wasn’t just any rubble mind you, it was the kind of rubble they were familiar with. The kind of rubble that made them remember things when they looked at it. Remnants of their former life all piled together into one big gigantic pile of rubble. Posters, banners and announcements peppered the pile like abstract art. Dust clouded their vision but they were able to make out things like CONGRADULATIONS CLASS OF and Support Your Huskies and Parent-Teach…they realized then, through the haze and fog that was clouding their heads that the pile of rubble that surrounded them was their school. Then the screaming started.
A few of the children, perhaps from shock or from the sheer excitement that comes from discovering something brand new, did not scream—and over the wails and crying of the others this group banded together in a corner to survey their surroundings. They had no idea at that time that they were to become the saviors of the new world and how could they? They were just children.
One of them, a small lanky boy with sandy blond hair-turned grey from the debris looked at his newfound fellowship. His blue eyes looked aged beyond their years in the damp lighting but underneath them hid a strength that was apparent to the others, for they all looked at him as he spoke.
“Something bad has happened,” he said. The others nodded.
He looked around and noticed that at the sound of his voice a few of the other children had stopped crying. It could have been comforting to them or it could have been that they were just so surprised that not everyones eyes were offering tears of sacrifice to the dirt they were sitting in. Whatever the reason it gave the boy courage and he continued.
“We can’t stay down here. It’s not safe. We might be buried alive soon if we don’t hurry.”
One of the others from his group crawled to where the boy was sitting. She was a girl he could see. It was hard to make things out but her long red hair and freckles appeared before him, making her bone structure and features unmistakable even for a young child. She wet her lips with her tongue, moistening them before she spoke.
“Do you…do you know what happened?”
The boy looked at her trying to choose his words carefully. He saw that her jaw was clenched tight and she was trying her hardest not to join the others in showing her emotions. He could think of only one thing to say.
“No,” he said.
A single tear fell from her eye. It was the only crying she would do down here. He watched as it slid down her cheek, leaving a slick trail in the dust that was on her face. For some reason he wanted so badly to brush it away, to tell this girl that he didn’t know that everything was going to be okay. Instead, he watched as the tear trailed down her face, to her chin and hung there for a split second before falling to the ground. She breathed deep and smiled at him.
“I know,” she said. “It’s not okay.”
She crawled back to her spot in the group and closed her eyes.
The boy cleared his throat as some of the other children began to stir again. His exchange with the girl had been so quiet, so personal—like a secret between husband and wife—that the shirt attention span of their generation took over and their minds began to wander. He knew he had to keep talking if there was to be any sense of order.
“I think we should all look around. We need to find where there is some air coming in. then we can decide to move the pieces to get out. If there’s air, then there’s outside.”
“And what if there is no air?”
A boy twice his size came forward to be noticed. He was chunky but not to the point of being obviously overweight. His blue and white horizontal striped shirt was torn at the shoulder and a trickle of dried blood was seeping through.
The smaller boy eyed him for a moment. Deciding that he was not just trying to be defiant or cause a stir or be a bully but rather was just afraid like they all were, he answered the question.
“If there is no air, then we will dig anyway. We have to get out of here. We will get out of here.”
His last sentence hung in the air. It was not so much a promise as it was a statement or a prayer offered to whatever God was listening to him right now. He wasn’t sure what would happen to all of them but he had to believe himself that they would all make it out, if he was to get the others to believe it as well.
He looked around at them all watching him. Their eyes were dry and blank now and he felt their collective gaze as one and all around them an aura began to shine. It was dull and faint, as if he were seeing it through a murky glass of water but it was there. He blinked once—twice—thinking something might be clouding his vision other than the dust that had now settled but it was still there. An aura the shade of faded blue jeans which gave him strength and he repeated his last words with more emphasis.
“We will get out of here.”
The others looked and as one they nodded.
Read more »
