Post by Tamari on Aug 11, 2012 0:22:08 GMT -7
I'm what you would call an aspiring author. My dream is to one day have a book published even though I know it'll take ages. I'm not going to force anyone to, but it would be great if you could read something I'm writing at the moment.
This is just the prologue, if you want more please tell me. Critisicm would be welcomed, tell me how to make it better.
Prologue
The night was quiet as the sleek limousine rolled down the empty road, the light of the street lamps reflecting off the tinted windows as it passed by. The hour was late and,by now,even the late night drinkers had vacated the usually rowdy pubs and crawled off to find a comfortable gutter to sleep away their hangovers.
The man seated in the back of the expensive vehicle looked out at the passing scenery with obvious distaste printed on his pale face. His disgust,however, would have to be put aside for now. He had reason to be here. The back streets of the city were one of the only places one could go if they wanted privacy. Privacy;for things that some people would rather keep in the dark. The black panel that separated the man from his driver began to slowly lower with a soft, mechanical hum and, as the man turned away from the view of the empty streets,he saw the eyes of his driver on him through the rear view mirror.
“We are alone,sir.” The voice was low and thick, heavily accented with something unrecognisable(sp), his dark eyes resembled bottomless voids, as he gazed through the reflective glass of the mirror at his master.
With a slow nod the man turned back to the window as the panel started sliding back up to meet with the roof. Once he heard the muffled thud of the panel hitting the felt-lined ceiling, he reached a hand inside his breast pocket and fished out a small flip-top phone. The device was black and the screen lit up blue when he flipped it open, the fluorescent blue light harshly illuminating the deep lines carved in his face. After quickly tapping in a number the man held the phone up to his ear and, even though he knew that no one was around, his voice was soft and hushed.
“Yes, I am alone.” The phone crackled against his ear as the person on the other end replied, then:
“The King is dead.”
“You were right. The fool didn’t even see it coming. I had one of the kitchen maids slip the poison into his meal. She’ll be executed for treason,Ishould would think.”
The man’s face darkened with anger as whoever was on the other line began to scream into the speaker.
“What do you mean I should have killed her? She was just a maid, they won’t believe her if she says that I was the one who gave her the poison. If you think you’re so smart, next time you want someone dead;kill him yourself!”
He shut the phone without waiting for a reply and threw it angrily on the floor of the car. Dissatisfied with the muffled noise it made on the cushioned ground he slammed the heel of his boot down on top of it; forgood measure.
He was angry. Angry:at his boss who always seemed to find fault in everything he did. But not only that, he was angry with himself. Because this time the fault his boss caught him on was justified, he had made a grave mistake. He hated mistakes, almost as much as the man he served did.
“I should have cut that maid’s throat before I left,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples as the beginnings of a headache began to show itself. He knew that no one would believe the maid if she told them that anyone ,but her, had killed the king. As soon as the old royal had face-planted into his bowl of soup she had become hysterical, screaming that it wasn’t her fault. That little display had sealed her fate on the spot, as well as given him a much welcomed opportunity to slip away in the havoc.
A shudder- so violent it was visible- ran through the man as his mind sifted through all of the possible punishments his master would execute upon him for his error. Most were too horrible to imagine for long and he could already feel a cold sheen of terrified sweat developing on the nape of his neck. He had to fix this, fast.
Leaning forward the man tapped on the panel then leaned back, drumming his fingers impatiently on his arms as the screen slowly lowered again.
“Sir?” The voice sounded again, low and questioning.
“Once you’ve taken me home I need you to call The Keeper. Tell him there are a few loose ends he needs to tidy up for me.”
With a nod the driver turned his eyes back to the road and pressed his foot down on the pedal, changing their speed from a slow crawl to a steady drive. The man settled back comfortably in his seat, he had done what was expected of him and now that The Keeper was being sent in he didn’t have anything to worry about.
The Keeper was a mysterious figure, always staying in the shadows. To his knowledge, the man did not know of anyone alive who had ever seen The Keeper’s face. If they had he doubted The Keeper would have allowed them to live long enough to speak of it. The Keeper was only called when something went wrong,or there were loose ends to clean up. That was his job, to swoop in after a mission and sweep everything under the carpet, destroying evidence, and witnesses. Without a doubt the man knew that the kitchen maid wouldn’t be around for much longer. Soon everything would be quiet again and,once everyone had settled down, the next stage of his boss’s plan could begin. However, until that time arose, it was time for this man to put his feet up with a steaming cup of cocoa and take a well-deserved rest.
This is just the prologue, if you want more please tell me. Critisicm would be welcomed, tell me how to make it better.
Prologue
The night was quiet as the sleek limousine rolled down the empty road, the light of the street lamps reflecting off the tinted windows as it passed by. The hour was late and,by now,even the late night drinkers had vacated the usually rowdy pubs and crawled off to find a comfortable gutter to sleep away their hangovers.
The man seated in the back of the expensive vehicle looked out at the passing scenery with obvious distaste printed on his pale face. His disgust,however, would have to be put aside for now. He had reason to be here. The back streets of the city were one of the only places one could go if they wanted privacy. Privacy;for things that some people would rather keep in the dark. The black panel that separated the man from his driver began to slowly lower with a soft, mechanical hum and, as the man turned away from the view of the empty streets,he saw the eyes of his driver on him through the rear view mirror.
“We are alone,sir.” The voice was low and thick, heavily accented with something unrecognisable(sp), his dark eyes resembled bottomless voids, as he gazed through the reflective glass of the mirror at his master.
With a slow nod the man turned back to the window as the panel started sliding back up to meet with the roof. Once he heard the muffled thud of the panel hitting the felt-lined ceiling, he reached a hand inside his breast pocket and fished out a small flip-top phone. The device was black and the screen lit up blue when he flipped it open, the fluorescent blue light harshly illuminating the deep lines carved in his face. After quickly tapping in a number the man held the phone up to his ear and, even though he knew that no one was around, his voice was soft and hushed.
“Yes, I am alone.” The phone crackled against his ear as the person on the other end replied, then:
“The King is dead.”
“You were right. The fool didn’t even see it coming. I had one of the kitchen maids slip the poison into his meal. She’ll be executed for treason,I
The man’s face darkened with anger as whoever was on the other line began to scream into the speaker.
“What do you mean I should have killed her? She was just a maid, they won’t believe her if she says that I was the one who gave her the poison. If you think you’re so smart, next time you want someone dead;kill him yourself!”
He shut the phone without waiting for a reply and threw it angrily on the floor of the car. Dissatisfied with the muffled noise it made on the cushioned ground he slammed the heel of his boot down on top of it; forgood measure.
He was angry. Angry:at his boss who always seemed to find fault in everything he did. But not only that, he was angry with himself. Because this time the fault his boss caught him on was justified, he had made a grave mistake. He hated mistakes, almost as much as the man he served did.
“I should have cut that maid’s throat before I left,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples as the beginnings of a headache began to show itself. He knew that no one would believe the maid if she told them that anyone ,but her, had killed the king. As soon as the old royal had face-planted into his bowl of soup she had become hysterical, screaming that it wasn’t her fault. That little display had sealed her fate on the spot, as well as given him a much welcomed opportunity to slip away in the havoc.
A shudder- so violent it was visible- ran through the man as his mind sifted through all of the possible punishments his master would execute upon him for his error. Most were too horrible to imagine for long and he could already feel a cold sheen of terrified sweat developing on the nape of his neck. He had to fix this, fast.
Leaning forward the man tapped on the panel then leaned back, drumming his fingers impatiently on his arms as the screen slowly lowered again.
“Sir?” The voice sounded again, low and questioning.
“Once you’ve taken me home I need you to call The Keeper. Tell him there are a few loose ends he needs to tidy up for me.”
With a nod the driver turned his eyes back to the road and pressed his foot down on the pedal, changing their speed from a slow crawl to a steady drive. The man settled back comfortably in his seat, he had done what was expected of him and now that The Keeper was being sent in he didn’t have anything to worry about.
The Keeper was a mysterious figure, always staying in the shadows. To his knowledge, the man did not know of anyone alive who had ever seen The Keeper’s face. If they had he doubted The Keeper would have allowed them to live long enough to speak of it. The Keeper was only called when something went wrong,or there were loose ends to clean up. That was his job, to swoop in after a mission and sweep everything under the carpet, destroying evidence, and witnesses. Without a doubt the man knew that the kitchen maid wouldn’t be around for much longer. Soon everything would be quiet again and,once everyone had settled down, the next stage of his boss’s plan could begin. However, until that time arose, it was time for this man to put his feet up with a steaming cup of cocoa and take a well-deserved rest.
