PROLOG
Visions of her lifeless body contaminated Amon’s mind as he stood at the caves entrance observing the men below. The blue of their eyes pierced unnaturally through the fog and haze that lingered around the bay. High above the docks overlooking the bay, a massive wall of rock opened up to a large cave that tunneled back into the earth for miles. His massive physique looked small standing in the mouth of the mammoth opening. Amon’s coal black eyes looked demonic as he stood motionless, observing. For the moment, the wind and rain paused giving the men a safe passage for the precarious task at hand. The turbulent dark clouds with swollen bellies, swarmed and rolled overhead, promising another torrent as thunder rumbled deep within them. Five long days of formidable storms and crushing winds preceded this day. The ominous rumbling above assured Amon the storm was not finished mourning his betrayal. Downed trees and muddied streets in the small fishermen’s town confirm the tempest’s disapproval of his actions.
Drenched and exhausted from the three day exodus through the mountains pass, the men with fierce glowing blue eyes unloaded large wooden crates from horse drawn carriages. The weight of the crates was apparent as each was assigned eight large men to transport the deadly cargo. With labored posture they slowly carried the crates down the docks where they were delicately lowered into small row boats. Over a hundred carriages congested the road that lined the edge of the bay. Steam rises from the nostrils of the wild eyed Friesians as they toss their heads and paw nervously at the ground. The drivers keep the reins taunt holding back the anxious black steeds who know all to well the contents of the mysterious crates.
The surrounding town appeared to be deserted. The windows of ware houses and small modest homes were boarded shut. Hidden deep inside their homes grateful for the deeds of the “Blue Angles,” as they’ve come to call them, the villagers keep their weapons in hand terrified of the possibility of their “Angels” failure.
In the distance billowed white sails float in the wind like ghosts, anchored and enslaved to the large wooden vessels below them. The ships sway with the waves as they patiently wait for their smaller cohort’s to surrender over the mysterious cargo.
As the last crate is lowered and the final boat starts off for the horizon a baby breaks the eerie silence with a hungered wail. Across from the docks located between two large ware houses is a modest little home with roses lining the walk to the front door. The mother of the child quickly turns from the window and cradles the baby desperate to quiet his cries. A man quickly approaches the window and slowly pulls the slightly opened wooden shutters close.
The baby’s cries reminded Amon of the sickening memories he would have to endue for the rest of eternity. He would never forget the face of the woman he viciously attacked, as she lay helpless, laboring in agony. He wanted to drink from her warm soft neck again but the memory of her screams pulled his mind away from his new addiction and remorse overcame him. Sacrificing her life to protect nations from her unborn child of the devil himself, was honorable, yet it poisoned his soul. He watched the sun creep through the clouds and spill across the ocean below. The golden rays that dappled the surface of the water were the color of her hair. Amon took a step back from the caves entrance as the sun subtly crept inside drawing nearer to his large frame and porcelain skin.
“May your efforts be protected my brothers.” The sound of his new demonic voice startled him. Accepting the creature he had become, Amon turned from the caves entrance and stared into the darkness before him. He looked over his shoulder, wanting one final memory of the light he was forever damned from. Pleasure slightly lifted one side of his mouth almost into a smile. The tips of the small waves glistened like gold reminding him of the words his father spoke to him when he was a young boy training for battle.
“Fight like a warrior son and you will die a hero.” His father poked him with a stick inviting a fight.
“Father, when I die, how will I know if I’m in heaven?” Amon’s small frame swung his father’s oversized sword so hard he spun and fell to his knees.
His father towered over him lifting the small boy to his feet. “Because there, the streets are paved in gold.”
Amon lowered his head and stood motionless. He knew he would never get the chance to see those golden waves again, nor the streets of heaven. Embracing his new monstrosity he began walking deeper into the darkened bowls of the cave. A sinister hiss echoed off the walls of the cave then disappeared as he had.
Four large ships set sail in two different directions, each pair with the same mission. One would be sunk and the other would carry the warriors back to shore. Not long after the sun brought in a second day void of storms, their destinations were reached. Large anchors were dropped and the ship containing half of the crates was abandoned of its’ crew, as would the other ship which was now far from sight. As the crew climbed aboard the sister ship that shadowed their journey, their eyes were glowing brighter than the setting sun. The intensity of their eyes proved the extreme emotions they must have felt the night before as the sun set. A long night indeed. None of the warriors slept. Each stood like a lion waiting to attack with swords drawn and torches lit watching the crates for any sort of movement.
Chests heaving in anticipation the large battle scared men watched in silence as the sun slowly sank into the ocean. As the last ray of light pierced through the sky the warriors drew their swords and stood prepared for a battle. Their time had run out and the five days the spell had granted them would end as soon as the sun was replaced by the moon.
One of the warriors shouted “Fire!” Breaking the silence.
Cannons burst like exploding volcanoes spewing sparks and billowed clouds of black smoke as balls soar through the air slamming into the cursed ship. Shards of splitting wood fly out from the belly of the massive ship giving way to the salty waters of the Black Sea. Water raced inside the wounded ship violating its’ contents, seizing the crates, claiming the spellbound vampires inside, then dragging it down into the unseen dark abyss of the oceans floor. There the bodies are bound for eternity as their spirits are ushered off into purgatory where they wait patiently for the prophesy to be fulfilled.
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"Water raced inside the wounded ship violating *** its’ *** contents..."
It is = it's.
In this case, the word should be "its" with no apostrophe.
I had a tough time learning that, as I was taught the wrong way in grammar school.
Good story so far, but I see a few problems in punctuation, and some of the paragraphs were unnecessarily too long. See what you can do to make them shorter, with less imagery and redundancy.
Good Luck.
Biff Remington
Hi Rebekah. This has some strong imagery but I felt that the effort of trying to immerse the reader in the world you have created at times overshadowed the story. If this is the prologue, I want to jump in to the plot and meet the characters and have a hook dangled so that I rush to read the next part. Instead I found myself wandering through the words trying to find a reason to keep reading. Perhaps shorten the paragraphs a little, strengthen the Amon character and tantalise the reader with the promise of more plot line. Keep going, it'll be worth it. Vicky.
watch word repetition, and punctuation - there are quite a few run-ons. other than that, it's pretty interesting, and i'm curious to read more
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