So i just wrote the prequel for my fantasy novel: As The Tide Bleeds. I won’t talk about the story, but here is the prolouge. I’d love commentary, ideas, or more.
Prolouge:
As the tide bleeds into the night, riches flood the ocean. Footsteps echo as midnight strikes. Men and women alike grab nets and boats, rushing into the water, paddling for their life. The pristine ocean water grows dark, and streaks of messy gold line the waters.
Gold. So much gold. Screams of joy echo throughout the kingdom, as the hardened gold makes their way into the pockets of the poor and rich. No longer poor, the poor cry with joy. And from the sidelines, the mayor claps his hands, barking orders to each gold-catcher. A smile lines his face.
He has white hair, and wears a black robe and gloves that signals his power. He wears a top hat, embezzled with several gold chunks and lines. His daughter is by his side, wearing simple robes, her hair tied back into a gold bun.
The tide continues to pour gold, and a figure wearing sea-man gear runs up. His hair is short, his eyes blue. His smile clean. He looks fancy, even in such poverty. Even though he wore such humble gear, he still was as rich as anyone in the kingdom. For as the tide bleeds, and the night watches them below, each figure is set for life.
The man kisses the daughter’s hand, making her chuckle. He winks, and points towards the shore. She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. She tells him: Nice try, maybe next time. He shakes his head and then runs into the water. It splashes beside him, and he grabs gold. Coins, chunks, even thin grains. A more burly man, with a mop of black hair slaps him on the back, laughing.
Everyone is happy.
Except I.
I lay below, in my den. My scales brush the cold stones. A fish flies past, staring at me with pity. I want to laugh. Moreover, I want to cry. Yet I don’t. I continue spinning my threads, letting gold strings float above. The stone monuments around me, all solid gold, my only friends, decay around me. And I feel anger.
Horrible anger.
How long has this been? My gold is everywhere, traded and passed. Poverty has ended, and the capital is littered with gold. They take my work for granted.
Far off, on the shores of a much farther away island, a lone man steps in the cold water. Gold surfaces. He smiles. He has waited days for this. Everyone told him it was impossible, but he proved them wrong. He was going to show them, he would show them all.
But there was no one. Everyone had already fled, and left for that kingdom that was rich with gold.
So he would be alone.
And nobody would care if he lived or died.
And so as the man grabbed the gold, As the tide bleeds, I turn the water black. The gold turns to dust. And the man’s limbs, crawling with water, turn to black dust, and his body explodes into the water, entrails and guts flying. His face touches the ground, turning black and metallic.
The waters return gold. The man’s body turns gold.
And I am happy.
For as the Tide bleeds, the people who bleed the tide, bleed too.
Hi Micah,
I enjoyed reading this! Especially the slow reveal of what was going on. It made me think. 🙂
It felt like a short story to me. Have you ever considered submitting to The Pearl or somewhere like that?
-Vella
Hi Micah!
This is a really interesting concept. Here are a few things I noticed right away:
1. This reads more like the opening of a first chapter than a prologue. That is probably for the best—prologues are typically info dumps and rarely serve a story well.
2. Likewise, the first-person narration doesn’t work here. Who is your faceless narrator? Your reader needs to know this, because there needs to be a reason to care about what the narrator says. Your reader also needs to know where in time and place they are. The ambiguous detail you’ve provided is likely only going to confuse your reader.
Where is all this happening?
Who are these people, and why are they relevant?
When in time is this story taking place?
What story are you trying to tell, and why should your readers care?
