Ember & Prologue

Before I tell you how my writing went, I just want to say that I saw the movie of The City of Ember tonight. It was awesome. Just like I expected it to be. Walden Media did such a great job turning the book into a good film. It is my opinion that they do the best at that kind of thing. It's a rare thing where you can say that the movie was as good as the book, but this was really good. My sister and brother didn't even read the book, and they enjoyed the movie too.

I'll admit that there were some strange things that weren't in the book, like why were there large insects and a monster mole? That's just plain weird (^,^). But it was exciting. I cared so much for the characters, just like I did in the book, and even though I knew what happened I hoped they would find the way to get up and out of Ember. The ending makes me hope for the sequel.

Okay, my rant is over. Anyway, I believe I had quite a productive writing day. First I spent an hour on Write or Die, and wrote 2,180 words. That made me feel really confident and did me a lot of good. I fixed a lot of places in my story and I believe I added just over 1,000 words. Of course, these numbers probably mean little to you.

You want to read my prologue, don't you? That's right, the 1s have it. Thanks for that, guys. That's the easiest thing for me to write, because it's been the same for a long time now. It's actually a part that comes in the middle, but I forsee that when my book is published, it'll do good as the prologue. (Notice I say when, not if. I will be published, you'll see!)

*Psst* Don't worry Jacoby, you're not outlawed from reading my prologue. It doesn't matter to me anymore that I haven't seen your prologue yet. I understand that you still need to work on it. I still hope I will see it sometime soon, but I'm going to let you see my prologue first.

I hope you guys give me helpful comments. Remember, I haven't shown this to anyone, except for my immediate family. Enjoy.

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Late at night, in a distant part of Imazia, far from the Fantazian Forest, rain poured heavily on a large, black stone castle. Hedges of wild brambles surrounded the castle, thorny creepers creeping up its walls, clutching the many turrets as if meaning to choke the life out of them. That is, had the structure been alive in the first place. Indeed, the solemn building looked so dark and dismal that it might as well have been dead. Only one light was on at this time of night, high up in the tallest tower where the creepers hadn’t yet ascended. In this room, an old man waited patiently at the window, watching and listening for something other than the falling rain and thunder.

This man was the Warlock.

Over the din of the storm, his sharp ears picked up the faint sound of flapping wings. The Warlock made a grimly satisfied smile and turned away from the window. He walked slowly and stiffly with his age to the great, golden, throne-like chair that was set in the middle of the room. The large, wooden staff that he used to walk made an echoing thunk every time it hit the floor.

No sooner had the Warlock sat down when in flew a large raven that perched on the window sill, dripping wet. The bird ruffled its feathers in an attempt to rid itself of the cold, wet rain. The Warlock opened his arms in a gesture of welcome. “Ah, there you are. I was beginning to wonder what had become of you. You’re very late, you know,” he said, though in a lazy tone of indifference.

The raven hopped off of the sill and made a raspy reply. “Awwwwk, aaawwk!” It shook itself dry once more and walked towards the Warlock. When it was right in front of him, the raven grew bigger and instantly morphed into a tall, young, dark-cloaked traveler. He had damp, windswept black hair that almost hid his pointy ears, wide gray eyes, and a sharp, beak-like nose. “The storm slowed my flight, Master,” said the traveler apologetically, his clear voice quite unlike that of his raven squawk.

“Please, don’t make excuses Gris, I don’t need to hear them,” said the Warlock in his same lazy voice. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters.” The Warlock sighed, apparently bored with the proceedings, and waved his staff so that an armchair appeared out of thin air behind the dark traveler. “Please take a seat, my boy. It has been so long since I’ve had news from you. Tell me, have you finally found the Great Unicorn?”

Gris slowly sat down in the materialized chair, readying himself for his report. “Master, I have searched long and hard for your Unicorn. I promised I would find her before the start of the Yellow Season and I have. For weeks I flew all over the Mighty Mountains, searching every cliff and cave until I finally found her. She resides on the tallest mountain of them all, where the dwarves protect her and she’s closest to the stars.”

“Hmm, Mount Kijam,” murmured the Warlock. He stood up and smiled, satisfied with the young man. “Thank you, Gris, for your diligent work. I am now that much closer to succeeding in my plan. The Great Unicorn shall soon be ours.” He left his throne and started to pace the room in his excitement. “When I have her horn I will become the most powerful Majik Kaster in all of Imazia. And then Gris, I shall have my revenge, and nothing will stand in my way!”

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Ta-Da! There you go. That was it! So, what do you think?