WastedSavior
A day without sunshine is like, well, night.
- Reaction score
- 217
I've decided to write up a prologue and see if i have any talent for writing, it's not much because i don't want to invest too much time on a project no one would be interested in.. but i want to know what you all think! whats wrong with it? does it capture you? would you be interested in reading more? do i need to go into more detail? does it move too quickly?! i want lots of opinions please 
Three resourceful men stood triumphant over a blazing fire, they had successfully ignited hope from the damp woods, fighting the chilling winds that would certainly claim some ill-fated soul. A tall gray haired man with deep blue eyes stood up and raised his chin to the sky. His eyes closed, his hands at his side, he whispered a silent prayer of thanks to the sunset, its final glare fading beyond the horizon.
“And not a moment too soon” one of the men still hunched by the fire pronounced in a matter-of-fact tone.
The other man gave him a sly smile and rolled off from his toes onto his back side.
Staring up at the sky, “There’s plenty of welcome in these old bones” he replied.
The silver haired man looked down at the two men and felt the comfort of their smiles.
He returned to his stooped position over the fire, sparing one last glance to the now black horizon where the sun had been moments before. After rolling his rucksack off his shoulder he began to investigate the contents. After a moments pass he withdrew 2 small tin’s, the first of which he buried in the scarlet coals of the fire. The second he popped open with the stiletto from his waist, revealing a tin full of hard flakey biscuits that where without question quite old. Instinctively he offered them to his companions; he had witnessed their naive disregard for rationing on many occasions. They each grabbed a handful of the crumbling pastry with a grunt.
“Thanks” muttered the portly man still on his feet.
He unhooked the buckle that kept his frayed magenta cloak hugged against his chest. Folding it and gently placing it on the ground he sat down. His mustache twitching in tune with the sparks of the fire he began nibbling solemnly on a larger flake of bread.
The man lying on the ground leapt to his knees, his eyes darting around the surrounding forest like quicksilver.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” the magenta endowed man squealed.
“Quiet, I heard something, something close in the woods” he replied.
The silver haired man swiftly and quietly rose to his feet and began combing the surrounding forest with his eyes. The portly man surrendered to fear stood paralyzed. It was hard to tell whether moments or hours had passed, all 3 men prone, unmoving against the strong burning of the winds. Above the fire and winds nothing could be heard.
“Are you certain you heard something Jarek?” The plump man submitting to uncertainty asked.
“It may have been an animal, but sure as the sun will rise, There is something out there” Jarek replied gruffly.
Another long moment passed before in the distance something stirred. The forest blocked out much of the view, but a glint here and a flash of snowy gray could be seen. The figure moved with hesitation, only daring a few brief steps at a time. All six eyes were now fixed on the approaching wisp. None dared to utter a word, or question openly what was approaching them.
Three resourceful men stood triumphant over a blazing fire, they had successfully ignited hope from the damp woods, fighting the chilling winds that would certainly claim some ill-fated soul. A tall gray haired man with deep blue eyes stood up and raised his chin to the sky. His eyes closed, his hands at his side, he whispered a silent prayer of thanks to the sunset, its final glare fading beyond the horizon.
“And not a moment too soon” one of the men still hunched by the fire pronounced in a matter-of-fact tone.
The other man gave him a sly smile and rolled off from his toes onto his back side.
Staring up at the sky, “There’s plenty of welcome in these old bones” he replied.
The silver haired man looked down at the two men and felt the comfort of their smiles.
He returned to his stooped position over the fire, sparing one last glance to the now black horizon where the sun had been moments before. After rolling his rucksack off his shoulder he began to investigate the contents. After a moments pass he withdrew 2 small tin’s, the first of which he buried in the scarlet coals of the fire. The second he popped open with the stiletto from his waist, revealing a tin full of hard flakey biscuits that where without question quite old. Instinctively he offered them to his companions; he had witnessed their naive disregard for rationing on many occasions. They each grabbed a handful of the crumbling pastry with a grunt.
“Thanks” muttered the portly man still on his feet.
He unhooked the buckle that kept his frayed magenta cloak hugged against his chest. Folding it and gently placing it on the ground he sat down. His mustache twitching in tune with the sparks of the fire he began nibbling solemnly on a larger flake of bread.
The man lying on the ground leapt to his knees, his eyes darting around the surrounding forest like quicksilver.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” the magenta endowed man squealed.
“Quiet, I heard something, something close in the woods” he replied.
The silver haired man swiftly and quietly rose to his feet and began combing the surrounding forest with his eyes. The portly man surrendered to fear stood paralyzed. It was hard to tell whether moments or hours had passed, all 3 men prone, unmoving against the strong burning of the winds. Above the fire and winds nothing could be heard.
“Are you certain you heard something Jarek?” The plump man submitting to uncertainty asked.
“It may have been an animal, but sure as the sun will rise, There is something out there” Jarek replied gruffly.
Another long moment passed before in the distance something stirred. The forest blocked out much of the view, but a glint here and a flash of snowy gray could be seen. The figure moved with hesitation, only daring a few brief steps at a time. All six eyes were now fixed on the approaching wisp. None dared to utter a word, or question openly what was approaching them.
