GetDotted Domains

Viewing Thread:
"Possible prologue?"

The "Creative Writing" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.

Fri 15/07/05 at 19:38
"Darkness, always"
Posts: 9,603
Something else that I've been thinking of recently. Does this work as an opening? Comments really appreciated here.

====================================

Her consciousness drifted into the infinite blackness at the back of her mind. An escape from life, a refuge from insufficiency. Relief from the pain. As the world faded away around her closed eyes, with it went all references to the world that hated her. The stark and unforgiving reality, and the physical and mental bruising of her peers. This was her retreat, and here she could dissolve into a quiet darkness without end.

She had withdrawn into the dark many times before. In tears of desperation, she had found the empty seclusion behind her weary eyes as she hacked on teary sobs. Since then it had been easy. She could fall into her hidden loneliness at will, and for a while, time stood still, and the ruthless onslaught of life disappeared. But of late, she had not dared go into the darkness. She remembered well the last few times. There was not supposed to be anything sharing the emptiness with her. It was her place, and hers alone, and there should have been nothing to interrupt her peace. But one time, there had been something. Inexplicably, she had sensed it while floating through her silent sanctuary. It was nothing specific, just a feeling that something was there where there should have been simply nothingness. Not even a vacuum. But something was there, at the edge of her senses, hidden in the darkness.

She had reacted with curiosity, at first. It was her refuge, after all. But she could not make anything of it that first time. When she felt it again a day later, she poured her concentration into forcing the intruding presence to take shape and appear. After a time, it did, but its form was not anything she had expected. Before her, in the darkness, on a solid surface with no foundation, bathed in a dim light with no origin, sat a small chest. It was no larger than a child’s lunchbox, but it was made of a solid, dark wood, and its edges were ornately decorated with what looked like gold. The wood looked a thousand years old, but the decoration gleamed as though it had been carefully polished not minutes ago.

Reaching forth with her mind, she tried to open the box, but it was locked, and stubborn. She had no form in the dark void of her sanctuary, no hands with which to hold the chest, no tools with which to pry it open. It took days of thrusting the full weight of her consciousness at the chest’s lock before finally, under a wave of crushing mental strength, the seal was simply disintegrated. Even after this effort, she was afraid of opening the chest. What lies here, inside my mind, locked away like this?

In the end, after several days of seeing nothing but the chest where there should have been nothing, her curiosity beat her, and with a gentle prod of her senses, the lid of the chest eased silently open. But as it opened, the chest itself began to disintegrate, just as the lock had. Fearing she had destroyed the box, just as she had its fastenings, she stopped trying to open it further. But the chest continued to dissipate, scattering into the darkness like loose sand caught in a brisk wind. And then it was gone. No sooner had it disappeared, than the light that had come from nowhere to illuminate it faded away. She could sense that the baseless platform also vanished into the void. For almost two weeks, she had shared her empty hideaway with a little mystery. Now the utter darkness suddenly felt lonelier than ever. At least I have my privacy back.

No sooner had she thought it, she knew it for a lie. Abruptly, she felt a new presence, and this was no passive object waiting to be manipulated. She remembered well the feeling of fear as she had realised that this presence was another being, inside her consciousness with her. She had left the void so abruptly she fell clear off her bed with fright. But the next day, she returned to her darkness, and the other life was still there sharing it with her. It remained that way for several weeks, she in her refuge, and the other passively sharing her lightless vacuum. The being made no effort to communicate, to move, to leave or to do anything. It was simply there. She was willing to tolerate that much. She still had her retreat.

But one day, after a time without measure in the abyss, she felt it speak. It was not sound, there was no noise to interrupt the endless night of her vacuous garden. The words simply materialised in her mind. Such a beautiful girl, why are you crying? With a flash, she blasted the darkness out of her mind in an instant, and sat in the corner of her room gasping for what seemed like hours. There was someone in there with her. Her refuge had been violated, and the only peace she had in the world had shattered like a child’s foolish dream. She swore never to go back. Never again to seek solace in the darkness that had been her home for more years than she cared to name. She could not hide in the night of her mind now that it was impure.

And yet she was returning. The world sank away like cream outside her inner thoughts, and she drifted back to the only place she knew – or thought she had known. There was no choice; she couldn’t survive the world without some means to escape it. The last thing she felt from reality was a drop of blood drip from her swollen lip onto her knee. After that, the sensation of another mind washed over everything, and she had the distinct feeling that it had been waiting for her. For the first time, in the sanctity of the great darkness that was the only place in the world she had ever felt safe, she began to cry.
Sat 16/07/05 at 08:41
Regular
"Laughingstock"
Posts: 3,522
The mystery of who she is, and why she is in a strange darkness makes me want to read on. Tightly written. Definitely provactive.
Fri 15/07/05 at 20:37
Regular
"Divine Davine"
Posts: 799
No problem, mate :D

And thanks for the inspiration. I'm going to give the whole creative writing thing a go soon - hopefully it will be ok. I'm normally used to writing meaningless reviews for my own benefit on hopefully becoming a journalist one day. Ha, I live in hope.
Fri 15/07/05 at 20:34
"Darkness, always"
Posts: 9,603
Nah, just a story mate. Thanks for your praise though, always encouraging when someone likes something I've created.
Fri 15/07/05 at 20:21
Regular
"Divine Davine"
Posts: 799
Totally gripping, mate. I was so absorbed throughout - for a prologue that is superb, and I can see a following for that very well. The contrast between the light and dark was excellent and the irony on how something that is so horrible makes her feel safe in comparison to what she is used to.

Really, really good and an inspiration for me and my writing skills. Which is generally s**t :p

Does this link to you in anyway at all though, as it felt so personal and clear. No offence if it doesn't.
Fri 15/07/05 at 19:38
"Darkness, always"
Posts: 9,603
Something else that I've been thinking of recently. Does this work as an opening? Comments really appreciated here.

====================================

Her consciousness drifted into the infinite blackness at the back of her mind. An escape from life, a refuge from insufficiency. Relief from the pain. As the world faded away around her closed eyes, with it went all references to the world that hated her. The stark and unforgiving reality, and the physical and mental bruising of her peers. This was her retreat, and here she could dissolve into a quiet darkness without end.

She had withdrawn into the dark many times before. In tears of desperation, she had found the empty seclusion behind her weary eyes as she hacked on teary sobs. Since then it had been easy. She could fall into her hidden loneliness at will, and for a while, time stood still, and the ruthless onslaught of life disappeared. But of late, she had not dared go into the darkness. She remembered well the last few times. There was not supposed to be anything sharing the emptiness with her. It was her place, and hers alone, and there should have been nothing to interrupt her peace. But one time, there had been something. Inexplicably, she had sensed it while floating through her silent sanctuary. It was nothing specific, just a feeling that something was there where there should have been simply nothingness. Not even a vacuum. But something was there, at the edge of her senses, hidden in the darkness.

She had reacted with curiosity, at first. It was her refuge, after all. But she could not make anything of it that first time. When she felt it again a day later, she poured her concentration into forcing the intruding presence to take shape and appear. After a time, it did, but its form was not anything she had expected. Before her, in the darkness, on a solid surface with no foundation, bathed in a dim light with no origin, sat a small chest. It was no larger than a child’s lunchbox, but it was made of a solid, dark wood, and its edges were ornately decorated with what looked like gold. The wood looked a thousand years old, but the decoration gleamed as though it had been carefully polished not minutes ago.

Reaching forth with her mind, she tried to open the box, but it was locked, and stubborn. She had no form in the dark void of her sanctuary, no hands with which to hold the chest, no tools with which to pry it open. It took days of thrusting the full weight of her consciousness at the chest’s lock before finally, under a wave of crushing mental strength, the seal was simply disintegrated. Even after this effort, she was afraid of opening the chest. What lies here, inside my mind, locked away like this?

In the end, after several days of seeing nothing but the chest where there should have been nothing, her curiosity beat her, and with a gentle prod of her senses, the lid of the chest eased silently open. But as it opened, the chest itself began to disintegrate, just as the lock had. Fearing she had destroyed the box, just as she had its fastenings, she stopped trying to open it further. But the chest continued to dissipate, scattering into the darkness like loose sand caught in a brisk wind. And then it was gone. No sooner had it disappeared, than the light that had come from nowhere to illuminate it faded away. She could sense that the baseless platform also vanished into the void. For almost two weeks, she had shared her empty hideaway with a little mystery. Now the utter darkness suddenly felt lonelier than ever. At least I have my privacy back.

No sooner had she thought it, she knew it for a lie. Abruptly, she felt a new presence, and this was no passive object waiting to be manipulated. She remembered well the feeling of fear as she had realised that this presence was another being, inside her consciousness with her. She had left the void so abruptly she fell clear off her bed with fright. But the next day, she returned to her darkness, and the other life was still there sharing it with her. It remained that way for several weeks, she in her refuge, and the other passively sharing her lightless vacuum. The being made no effort to communicate, to move, to leave or to do anything. It was simply there. She was willing to tolerate that much. She still had her retreat.

But one day, after a time without measure in the abyss, she felt it speak. It was not sound, there was no noise to interrupt the endless night of her vacuous garden. The words simply materialised in her mind. Such a beautiful girl, why are you crying? With a flash, she blasted the darkness out of her mind in an instant, and sat in the corner of her room gasping for what seemed like hours. There was someone in there with her. Her refuge had been violated, and the only peace she had in the world had shattered like a child’s foolish dream. She swore never to go back. Never again to seek solace in the darkness that had been her home for more years than she cared to name. She could not hide in the night of her mind now that it was impure.

And yet she was returning. The world sank away like cream outside her inner thoughts, and she drifted back to the only place she knew – or thought she had known. There was no choice; she couldn’t survive the world without some means to escape it. The last thing she felt from reality was a drop of blood drip from her swollen lip onto her knee. After that, the sensation of another mind washed over everything, and she had the distinct feeling that it had been waiting for her. For the first time, in the sanctity of the great darkness that was the only place in the world she had ever felt safe, she began to cry.

Freeola & GetDotted are rated 5 Stars

Check out some of our customer reviews below:

Many thanks!
You were 100% right - great support!
Continue this excellent work...
Brilliant! As usual the careful and intuitive production that Freeola puts into everything it sets out to do, I am delighted.

View More Reviews

Need some help? Give us a call on 01376 55 60 60

Go to Support Centre
Feedback Close Feedback

It appears you are using an old browser, as such, some parts of the Freeola and Getdotted site will not work as intended. Using the latest version of your browser, or another browser such as Google Chrome, Mozilla Firefox, or Opera will provide a better, safer browsing experience for you.