Erotica Harem

Title: Zoe’s Return-Secrets of Lockridge, Bk 1
Chapter: Prologue
Author: Pat
Plot: So far, the author has the story set up so that the reader knows that as a child, Zoë had people after her. She witnesses a ritual but before the reader learns what that ritual is, the character wakes up. The story shifts into the present with ease. A new character is hinted at when a mystery man sooths the frightened woman and urges her to return to a place that holds fear for her.
Style and Voice: The style and voice seem to be consistent. So far in the story, there’s only one main character and a character who’s role hasn’t really been fully explained yet but will most likely end up being an important character.
Referencing: There’s a note at the time of the page that says the story takes place thirty years ago but it doesn’t really give a more detailed time frame until the scene shifts to the present, there’s a note that says ‘thirty years later’ and the writer describes the character using modern amenities like an air conditioner and a lamp. There is no evidence so far of just how modern the story is.
Scene/Setting: In the begining of the story, the writer paints a clear picture of a scared child hiding in a tree. She details what the child hears below her, i.e. the screaming of the men looking for her and her loud heartbeating, she describes what she sees, i.e. the men who are chasing her and then a bit later, cloaked figures carrying different objects, and she describes that the child smells something horrible that causes her to feel ill. All of these things give me a good mental image of what’s going on. When the story shifts, the writer describes how the character is covered in sweat because of her fear and efficiently describe the way the sheets have been tangled after a long, restless night. The introduction of Dominic is followed by an explaination that Zoë couldn’t touch him or see him but she could sense his heat surround her as he closed her in his arms. I’m guessing the man is only there in spirit or some such although the writer hasn’t really explained.
Characters: Zoë is so far the only main character. The writer portrays her as a scared little girl that seems to be important for an unknown reason. The way the story is set up leaves me anxious to know what happened to the child after she fell out of the tree and why there were men after her. Dominic seems like he’s going to be an important character later in the book but for now he’s just there for comfort and protection and to convince her to come back to her home.
Grammar: I saw two places that didn’t click for me. On the first spot, there seemed to be a word missing that made the sentence sound a bit off. The second spot, the sentence just didn’t click and I suggested a way that might make it flow better. The writer may not even agree with my suggestions but I felt that it might be helpful.
Just my Personal Opinion: The story so far seems interesting. I’d definitely continue reading the story to find out what happened to Zoë as a child once she fell from the tree and to find out who Dominic is and why he seems to be important.

Corrections:

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, you may not like the answer.”


Clinging to the massive tree trunk, gasping for breath after running full speed through the wild overgrown forest, she stared down into a small clearing scattered with a few old 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 pounding footsteps came closer. She hugged the tree despite the burning pain between her legs. She swallowed back sob after sob until her throat ached with the powerful urge to cry out loud. Tears streamed from her eyes, streaking her dirty face.
She clamped her mouth shut, 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 flesh.
Oh, please, oh, please, she begged, clinging. Her hands and arms ached like fire from her unrelenting hold on the tree. Don’t let me fall, don’t let me fall!
All noise finally stopped. The forest fell into unnatural silence. Only the rapid beat of her heart reached her straining ears. It echoed in her mind, an eerie endless beat in the dark behind her eyelids.
A rustle in the underbrush drew a startled gasp from her. Her eyes snapped 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. Low, incomprehensible voices drifted in the air. Four figures carried four small boxes and 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 yet fascinated, she could not look away. She stared at the strange group as it stopped directly under her. People moved around, talking in voices so low only a low 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 but she didn’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 she didn’t see what they did next. (might want to add “so” in between ‘people’ and ‘she’.) When they spread out again, taking places around the grave, a body lay in the middle of their circle. Someone held a lit candle that looked black. Another held the rope attached to the goat and a long knife.
Mesmerized by this unfolding horror, she could only watch. Several smaller candles flared as their owners applied fire to the wicks. Flames wavered in the breeze, throwing eerie shadows over the ground. Four people removed the cats from the boxes, eliciting pitiful mewing noises tinged with terror.
She tightened her grip on the tree, terrified beyond her capacity to understand. They lifted the arrows and stabbed them into the cats with short vicious jabs. Pained cat howls split the air. Blood pooled on the ground from the dying creatures. A horrified scream burst from her throat to shatter the night. Her hands lost their grip on the tree. The ground rushed in a blur toward her. Her piercing scream blasted her ears. Pain exploded in her head and oblivion saved her from the terrors of the night.

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

Zoë’s eyes snapped open and she froze, every muscle 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 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 but that nightmare 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 as well as her heavy quilt over her shaking body. The quilt, patterned in strange interconnecting geometric symbols, inherited from her mother, wrapped her in warmth.
She curled on her side, drew her knees to her chest, and stared into the depths of the bedroom. Beyond the circle of light, the rest of the room held shadows but nothing menaced her. She waited, her heart gradually slowing its hard, pounding rhythm. He would come. He always came after the nightmares. Dominic, only(maybe add a comma here or say Only Dominic) kept terror at bay, kept her sane.
Minutes later 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 cold shivers. A sigh escaped her as she snuggled deeper under the bedcovers, surrounded by him, her own guardian angel, it seemed. 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.


Sara