This is the first part of the Prologue for my novel, Winged. I hope you like it!!!!!!!!!!!! =D
Prologue
PART I
Ashes. They danced around me as I slowly walked down the cobblestone path that went through the once green lawn. Smoke covered the entire sky. It was as if the world had shut out the little hill. The usual spring life and sound did not exist on those ruins any longer. Even the sun refused to shine on the remnants of the once felicitous taigh.
The detritus from the fire still danced in the air, even though it had been extinguished nearly an hour ago. As the scene opened up before me, I inhaled in a sharp gasp that caused me to swallow some of the heavy ash. I doubled over in a coughing fit. A hand lightly touched my back in comfort. I swallowed my cough in a gasp, jumping away in surprise.
Slowly, i turned around, still trying to recover from the fright. A person was standing there, towering a good two heads above me. Whether man or woman, I could not tell. The figure was shrouded in a ratty brown cloak. The body was entirely covered except for two slender, pale hands.
“Are you alright?” a female voice inquired. I didn’t answer. No longer startled, but instead suspicious. The lady in brown looked around to see the answer for herself. When she realized what had happened, a soft cry emanated from the depths of the hood. She stepped toward me a hand outstretched. Numbly, I took her hand. Warmth exuded from her hand, melting the ice that was freezing my veins.
A nasty little tear escaped my eye. Then I started to weep. I let go of her hand and hugged her instead. She embraced me back, with all the affection my mother had when I was a little boy. I buried my face into her shoulder, and realized that she was also crying. “Death leaves a heartache no one can heal. But love leaves a memory no one can steal.” she said, tear choked. “My husband said that when my mother died.”
A cry wrenched from my throat. I broke away from the kind lady. I did not turn around to meet her gaze, suddenly ashamed of the tears rolling down my cheeks. Why should I be upset? I might as well have killed them with my own hands.“They are not dead.” I growled, hoping that I could make myself believe it.“No bodies have been found. Dad prepared for everything.”
I ran the rest of the way up to the house. I stepped through the hole where the door had used to be. As traumatic as the fire had been, the house’s main structure wasn’t holding up well. Half of the house was collapsed. I picked through the debris to the other wall that was still standing. I found the door to the basement behind a fallen beam. I pried it open.
A rush of smoke hit me when I opened the door. The dark stairway loomed under me. I could feel the sweat bead on my forehead. I took a deep, stabilizing breath. I tested the first step very gingerly. It groaned with effort, but it held my weight. Trembling, I stepped onto the next one. As I put my full weight on it, it split in half. Cursing, I pulled my foot out and continued to the bottom.
The stairs led me down to a morbid scene. I saw a faint light trickling from a shattered window that was right above my head. The light danced over the broken shards of glass on the ground. The barrels of food we stored in the main room were still smoldering. I crept to the left of the stairs. There, a bookshelf sat crookedly, the precious books reduced to ashes. I hauled it away from the spot that it sat. I walked into a room that was filled with the necessities. Bedrolls, a table and four chairs, even a running toilet. That was the most reinforced room on the hill, our safe haven.
I realized, to my horror, that one of the chairs was occupied. Ròs, I thought in despair. The little chair that was in the corner held the girl of four, her head slumped onto her chest. Two others were conspicuously empty. The last one was tipped over on the ground, my father lay a few paces away, one hand on his throat. The other was extended towards a bed roll against the far wall. The bedroll was also occupied. My mother, who had been sick since Ròs was born, had likely never woken up. Both my Mother and Ròs had a look of peace about them. My father’s face, however, was a mask of pain and horror. I sunk to my knees, light headed. With the bookshelf not sealed, the smoke had seeped in.
I couldn’t bring myself to mourn over my family. The reality of the situation wouldn’t sink in. There was a high flute-like noise outside, followed by loud footsteps. I winced at the commotion outside. I couldn’t concentrate. When it finally quieted down, I had forgotten what I was doing. What was I here for? The answer I got from searching was one word. Reasons....I couldn’t dig up anything else.
Almost unconsciously, I felt myself drag my body to my mother’s bed roll. I crawled under the blanket and snuggled against the cold skin of her body, hoping uselessly to draw comfort from the only person I’d ever loved more than myself.
TO BE CONTINUED
