Activity

@esjohnson @princess-foo @elizabeth @aster @r-m-archer

Are these your whole first chapters? Most of them seem rather short. Not that my chapters are very long, or anything.

Here’s mine. These actually are the prologue and pre-prologue. My first chapter is still in work. The pre-prologue is not having much to do with the rest of the story, but I would like to know if you think this is historically accurate.

Here goes:

Pre-Prologue: If Earth Was Round…
Edward walked past tables upon tables of books, charts, and maps. He picked up one weathered piece at random, and gazed at the jagged outlines of the world, and its three continents, Europe, Asia, and Africa. Along the edges of the map, far out at sea, were squiggly images of sea monsters, and other dangers that lurked near the edge of the world.

Edward lay the page back down with a sigh. All the maps were similar, many of them older and not as updated, and others newer, and more updated. His entire life’s work was spread out on these tables.

The cartographer of the king flopped down in his old leather chair as he thought about what had happened that day in the king’s court. A man had come in by the name of Colombus. He had wanted to be sponsored for a trip to the famed spice islands, but by a different means. He had thought earth was round. Edward had thought he was crazy. But, the more he had thought about it, the more he realized that it was likely true. He had observed things which could only account in a round earth. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t believe as the fact that he didn’t want to believe. What would come of his job, and the jobs of many other cartographers, if the earth was proved round.

Edward ran his finger across the dusty bookshelf until he came to an old tattered manuscript, which he pulled out.

“In the Shadow of the Falls,” he read, as he looked fondly at the book. It had been his favorite story as a child.

He sighed as he looked at it. Not only would his job and the job of many others be destroyed if Colombus succeeded, but so many classics like this one.

He turned the page, preparing to read it for what would be his last time.

 

 

Prologue: The Fury
A bright flash illuminated the dark sky and sea momentarily. A rumble like the breathing of a sleeping giant sounded through the night. A many masted ship pushed laboriously through the torrent, being tossed about by the waves as though it was a toy sailboat. Thunder crackled again. The storm clouds rolled closer, blocking out the last of the stars in a darkened embrace. A blinding volt of power from above struck the tallest mast, which burst into flames. Panic ensued on deck.

“Everyone! Stay calm!” Came a bellow from the upper decks.

Wind howled, and an icy blast soared through, forcing the scarlet cloaked speaker to clutch his cape tighter around him. His ragged black hair, soaked with the spray dashed out in the wind, wanting to fly free with the wind.

“There is no need for chaos. There never is a need for chaos.” The man spoke calmly, and the crowd quieted. “I know you are frightened, but every problem can be worked out in an orderly fashion. And this situation will be worked out in an orderly fashion.” He looked out over the ship, especially at the main mast, which had stopped flaming, leaving the sail like a charred piece of paper.

“Everyone!” The crimson clad man was now joined by another, stouter man. “Everyone!” The short captain bellowed again, “Lord Philip is right! We need every last man to fight this storm! We will not let this storm master us over the edge! How many of you has had nightmares of the edge of the world? Well now, let those nightmares fill your mind! But don’t let yourself give up! We need everyone if we are to break the force of these seas, to ride this storm, and to escape from the strangling of the edge! We will not give up without a fight, will we men?!”

The stout captain was answered by great cheering from on deck.

Philip the first turned, his cape a flash of red, and looked at his captain with admiration. “You handled that nicely.”

The captain chuckled. “Anything for you, my lord.”

A high octave schreech rent the night, followed by sevaral others.

The cape swished as its wearer turned. “A great variety of sharps and flats.” He shook his hair, shaking quivering beads of moisture onto the rough deck. “Sounds like my wife when she sees a rat.”

Philip raised his voice. “What did your captain tell you? Stay-“

His voice dropped to a whisper as he saw what had caused the commotion.

“That’s the biggest darn rat I’ve ever seen,” Philip muttered, and then leapt onto the lower deck, trying to draw his sword as he did.

The rocking of the vessel threw him forward onto the deck.

“Ouch.”

It wasn’t easy to unsheathe a sword while jumping. Not to mention on a rocking boat. Philip clenched his teeth and blinked rapidly, twisting his arm to look at his cut before reaching down to pick up the sword. He had already gotten a wound, and it wasn’t from the enemy. He held the sword menacingly; the thought, that he had absolutely no experience with weapons, only briefly crossing his mind.

After straightening his cape and throwing back his dripping hair, Philip turned to gaze on his foe for a second time.

A great alga covered serpentine body had risen out of the water, draped carelessly with sea weed and various mollusks. The cloaked lord stared with horror at the gleaming, marvelous teeth, and the foam that dripped out of the monster’s mouth. A feeling of sickness rushed through him, worse than the sea sickness he had felt only the night before. Philip slowly, almost carefully lifted his gaze. His eyes were suddenly locked into the deep, unending eyes, crimson a deeper shade than his own red cape, and even more frightening than the blood that was splattered on his hand. The crimson cloaked lord and the crimson eyed serpent stared each past the masking shadow of closely knit scales and ragged black, into the others eye. A simple glance in those shiny black eyes, and those huge, deadly red eyes would have told you a simple thing: one was triumphant, greedy, and deadly, the other was frail, timid, and helpless.

Philip could not remove his gaze.

“Rufus.” The voice was barely above a whisper. The speaker didn’t take his eyes of the monster in the water. “Take my son Philip in a row boat and escape with him. I will not fight this creature with a baby on board.”

Rufus, nodded astutely, and made his way towards the lower decks in obedience. Plop, his iron-cuffed boots dashed grime about as he plodded through one of the many puddles dampening the rough deck.

The red caped lord listened to the dying away taps of his manservant, and readied himself for battle, for his death.

Philip could hear the rowboat splash the violent ocean as Rufus and his son, his only son, began their escape. He recognized the distinctive splosh of oars, as they cut through the water. Every oar stroke was lengthening the distance between him and his son. Philip thought back to the most recent time he had held little Philip the second and stroked his adorable pudgy cheeks. It would be the last time.

But no. He would not dampen his spirits before the fight had even begun. The sound of oars had disappeared into the crashing waves, and he knew his son was out of danger.

“To arms!” Philip shouted. “To victory!”

Philip stepped forward, leaned all his weight onto his right foot, and swung, wildly, for the first, yet also the last time.