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Okay, so I’m working a short novel and I need some help with my prologue! It’s set in a medieval/fantasy type world, villages, peasants, evil Lords, knights, and such. You get the idea. I’ll give my plot out to you all soon, so keep and eye out! Well, here we go!

………………..

Sweat ran down his forehead as he worked in the hot and humid afternoon. The water in the air was unbearable, and soon, even he would not be able to stand it. The sun glared down on him and his fellow workers, unmercifully burning their bare backs with its fiery beams of light. Dust from the work was choking him, coating in the back of his throat to where he rasped when he took each breath.

He stooped to pick up a slab of stone when a wave of exhaustion hit him, making him stumble and fall on the ground, bashing his knee on a large fragment of stone. Gritting his teeth at the pain, he pushed himself back up only to be roughly shoved back down by someone. This time he was not able to get up, as the person who had pushed him down stomped their foot down on his neck; pressing their weight down on him.

With his face crushed to the ground, a fresh feeling of agony came upon him from the pressure being exerted on him. He felt as if his neck would snap from the pain, and the dirt from the ground was beginning to choke him. Coughing, he tried to push himself back up, but the stress and heat of the day left him exhausted.

The foot suddenly came off of his neck, and a knee jammed itself into his upper back, sending excruciating waves of pain through his already bruised body.

His tormentor then leaned down and whispered harshly into his ear, “We’re not paying you to lay about all day slave.”

The victim only muttered a strained reply, “You’re not paying us anyways, so what have you got to lose?”

That only earned him a savage dig of the man’s knee in his back, reopening the lash wounds on his back. Moaning, he tried to move, but his oppressor’s weight was making it impossible for him to move. For a few agonizing seconds, the man on him did not get off, and all he could hear was the other slaves working hard, the occasionally scream, nothing out of the ordinary.

His mind wandered back to the days that he was a free man; the days when he did not fully appreciate, the family that he had, and the farm that he lived on. Oh how he wished he could take back those wasted hours spent thinking that life was hard, and that the world had greater things to see, not the back end of a horse. But, right now, he would give anything to be back plowing in the fields, and spending time with his family.

Suddenly his thoughts were cut short, when a boot smashed into his temple, and he was dragged into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

Okay, so I know, kinda weird, but I need everone’s honest opinion please! Thanks! ;););)