Erotica Harem

Title of Book: Zoe’s Return – Secrets of Lockridge, Bk 1

Chapter #: Prologue

Author: Pat

My comments are meant in the spirit of helping us all become better as artists; never meant to discourage or demean anyone. Use what you like and toss the rest!) !!

Setting: A graveyard of some kind, with old headstones; very errie. I got the sense of being there. You might want to add some “smell” from the candles or blood.


Characters: Zoe, a little girl, and lots of unknowns. I felt like I was in Zoe’s skin! I was terrified with her in the tree. The scene you’ve created is very compelling, and terrifying all at once. The added fact that she was hugging the tree for dear life also made is scary, suspenseful. I was afraid with her. Great job!

Referencing All appeared appropriate here for being in the frame of mind of a child; I made a couple comments below.

Plot: Zoe is hiding in a tree, in an old graveyard. She’s hiding from “them”, who we don’t yet. But “they” are up to no good and sacrificing cats. She’s horrified, but desperate not to be discovered. She looses her grip and plunges below. Then, she wakes up, so I’m assuming this is some kind of nightmare that she’s living in. Waiting for her is a very suspicious person or entity, who tells her it’s time to go home.


Grammar: I’m not sure if you’ve heard it before, but I’ve learned in here that too many adjectives is considered lazy writing by publishers. I’ve had to work hard to remove mine, and you know, they are right! The prose reads just as strong with a couple, versus forty or so… I’ve marked the adjectives in “bold” below that can be removed and doesn’t take away from the story, but you can decide what is best for you.

General: You scared the beejeesus out of me! First, you put me in the head of this terrified little girl who is clinging to a tree, in a graveyard, no doubt, then you bring in cloaked unknown and scary figures to sacrifice cats! You certainly got my attention! The very last paragraph definitely makes be want to great more! Great job!

___________________________________________________________________________



Prologue:

Thirty Years Ago


“It is said that dead men tell no tales—but the ancient writings tell of those who raise the dead, who compel corpses to speak of the future. A warning; beware what you ask for you may not like the answer.”


Clinging to the massive tree trunk, gasping for breath after running full speed through the wild, (comma) overgrown forest, she stared down into a small clearing, (comma) scattered with a few old, (comma) grave markers. She straddled the thick tree branch, her feet dangling well above the ground. Her eight year old mind, dazed with stark terror, could not grasp the meaning of the unfolding horror that pursued her.
“Find her!”
“Get her!”
Harsh shouts of rage assaulted her ears. Rapid, (comma) pounding footsteps came closer. She hugged the tree despite the burning pain between her legs. She swallowed back sob after sob, (comma) until her throat ached with the powerful urge to cry out. loud. (Pat – not necessary to say “loud” because “cry out” would infer the same thing) Tears streamed from her eyes, streaking her dirty face. (suggestion: streaking her face that was covered in dirt.)
She clamped her mouth shut, and her teeth bit into her tongue in an effort to remain silent. She desperately did not want to be found by those horrible men below her. Eyes squeezed tight shut, she pressed harder against the tree-trunk, the rough bark digging into her young (we already know she’s a child, so not necessary to use the adjective here) flesh.
Oh, please, oh please, (if inner though – put in italics; if she’s calling this out, put in quotations) she begged, clinging to the tree…onto the branch. Her hands and arms ached like fire (Pat – can hands and arms ache like fire? Perhaps “ached with burning?) from her unrelenting hold on the tree. Don’t let me fall. Don’t let me fall! (inner thoughts – put in italics)
All noise finally stopped. The forest fell into unnatural silence. Only the rapid beat of her heart reached her straining ears. It (The sound?) echoed in her mind, an eerie, (comma) endless beat in the darkness behind her eyelids.
A rustle in the underbrush drew a startled gasp from her. Her (using “her” here takes us out of the girls POV – to keep in her POV, you could say, “She opened her eyes side and ..) eyes snapped {c} (can eyes snap?) open and she stared down into the clearing. Dark shadows in the forest and scattered around the weathered grave markers shifted in the slight breeze. The noise stopped and started again as several people moved into the small graveyard.
Though bathed in moonlight, the dark figures could barely be distinguished from other shadows. (c:blue} (Pat – the previous sentence takes us out of the girls POV, to keep in her POV, try: “Straining her eyes, she could almost distinguish the dark figures in the shadows, approaching her.) Low, incomprehensible voices drifted in the air. Four figures carried four small boxes and four (repeated word “four”) arrows. Cat noises emanated from the boxes, feral growls and snarls of creatures hating their captivity. Another figure led a goat into the clearing.
Terrified, (comma) yet fascinated, she could not look away. She stared at the strange group as it they stopped directly under beneath her. People moved around, talking in voices so low that only a low (repeated word: low ..use “soft” for the first one) hum wafted up to her.
After putting everything on the ground, several people spread something slimy all over the nearest grave. Its marker leaned to one side like a drunk stumbling along a wall. A horrible smell rose into the night. Her stomach lurched under a wave of nausea, (comma) but she didn’t’ (delete apostrophe after “t”) dare throw up.
As she watched, two black robed figures sprinkled something over the layer of slime. They all converged into a thick knot of people. (period) She didn’t see what they did next. When they the group spread out again, taking places around the grave, a body lay in the middle of their circle. Someone held a lit candle that looked (appeared) black. Another held the rope attached to the goat and a long knife.
Mesmerized by this unfolding horror (Pat, to eliminate the adjective, you could say, “Mesmerized by the horror unfolding before her, she …) , she could only watch. Several smaller candles flared as their owners applied fire to the wicks. Flames wavered in the breeze, [b}throwing (tossing) eerie shadows over the ground. Four people removed the cats from the boxes, eliciting pitiful mewing noises, (comma) tinged with terror.
She tightened her grip on the tree, terrified beyond her capacity to understand (this passage seems over-written. Perhaps simply stating: “She was terrified and did not understand”. Since the reader is in the head of a young child, this would seem more appropriate, imo) They lifted the arrows and stabbed them into the cats with short, (comma) vicious jabs. Pained cat-howls (hypen) split the air. Blood pooled on the ground from the dying creatures. A horrified scream burst from her throat to and shattered the night. Her hands (She) lost their grip on the tree. The ground rushed in a blur toward her. Her (the) piercing scream blasted her ears. Pain exploded in her head and oblivion saved her from the terrors of the night.

******************

Zoë’s eyes snapped (can eyes snap?) open and she froze. (period) Her every muscle was rigid. Blood roared in her ears, the only other sound in the pitch dark bedroom besides the wild pounding of her heart. Drenched in the sweat of fear, she shivered in the draft of cool air from the air conditioner vent that was directly over her bed. Her fingers tightened in a death grip around the sheet, tangled thick around her waist, between her legs, and around one knee. It effectively trapped her in bed, pinned her to the damp mattress. She’d sweated as though in the grip of a high fever, (comma) but that the nightmare she had did not come from illness. She swallowed hard, her throat parchment dry, and released her grip on the sheet.
Her fingers trembled as she fumbled for the lamp on the nightstand, found the switch at its base, and flipped it. Soft light spilled over the bed, bathing her in its glow. Huddled in that welcome circle of light, Zoë carefully disentangled her body from the sheet and dragged it, (comma) as well as her heavy quilt, (comma) over her shaking body. The quilt, patterned in strange interconnecting geometric symbols and inherited from her mother, wrapped her in warmth.
She curled on her side, drew her knees to her chest (in her knees), and stared into the depths of the bedroom. Beyond the circle of light, the rest of the room held shadows, (comma) but nothing menaced her. She waited, her heart gradually slowing its hard, pounding rhythm. He would come. He always came after the nightmares. Dominic,(no comma) only kept terror at bay, kept her sane.
Minutes later, (comma) his warm presence wrapped her in comfort. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t touch him, but his arms slid around her and his heat enveloped her, chasing away the last of the cold shivers. A sigh escaped her as she snuggled deeper under the bedcovers, surrounded by him, her own guardian angel, it seemed (Pat – unnecessary, and comes across cleaner). Her body and mind relaxed until she drifted on the fine line between asleep and awake.
You know it’s time, Zoë. Dominic’s low resonant voice slipped into her hazy mind. Time to come home.
Home, she thought, snuggling deeper in the sense of security Dominic brought to her.
Yes, but you won’t be alone. I’m waiting for you. Come home.
To Locke Ridge, she mused, far too drowsy and too deep in his presence to be afraid, to protest. To Locke Ridge. And the terrors waiting there.


Jon


** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **


Sig provided by Anastasia Rabiya...