Here is just the opening prelude chapter from my upper MG/lower YA manuscript. Please offer comments. _________________________________________________ Prelude Narrator
The thing lurked in the forest. Night after night in the moonlight or the rain or in the snow, it waited. It watched. It searched. It sniffed the air. But it stayed quiet. No one could come looking for it. And that dark, cold night, the wait was at an end. If it could do it.
How many terrible, horrifying stories start on cold, dark, moonless nights? Well…every one of them. This one was no different. One might claim it hackneyed cliché that the terrible event happened on a cold and moonless night. But still, it is how it happened.
On that damp, cold, moonless night they went for a stroll in the forest. The wind gusted cold into their faces as they stepped from their porch into the yard. The gusts drifted mounds of crispy autumn leaves dropped in the rain and dried by the gusty cold wind.
And it was muddy.
The thing's two weird, blood-red eyes peered from behind a black currant bush. They watched the couple walk in the woods for an evening wander. This was the night. No moon. No one else would be out in the cold wind and mud. It had to be. The thing had waited so long. When it was done, everyone in Zee and beyond would know of it. They would fear it. It would become a legend.
It was not a good idea to walk in the woods at night. But especially on a damp, gusty, cold, moonless night in the fall in the mud. The woods were not populated with copious numbers of carnivorous animals. Yet, the woods were home to badgers, bears, and the sporadic rattlesnake. Although far too cold of a night for those little creepers.
Even one who knew the woods in the daylight could become discombobulated and lose their way at night. This was especially true on dark and moonless nights. Lost in their abundant adoration, the couple strolled along. They disregarded the potential perils posed by a traipse in the woods. They promenaded hand in hand into the dark with a single flashlight to guide their way.
After a week of cold, driving rain and wind, they desired diversion. A long week of depressing cloud cover. Daily dismal runoff gushed down the streets. A week of constant displays of lightning with deafening thunder. They craved relief, freedom, and some fresh air. Out the back gate into the alley, they had strolled up the hill to the path that led straight into the woods.
They did not see those grotesque red eyes watching them.
In a sheltered and secluded spot along the trail, they stopped to kiss. The couple was still passionate even after many happily married years. No malevolent, muddy, moonless night could dissuade their doting demonstration of devotion.
The red eyes blinked, then narrowed. A guttural, grumbling growl went unheard by the passionate pair.
In a startling flash, it attacked. The couple had no time to react. Its razor claws and powerful paws swiped like wipers in a downpour. They slashed and scratched and scourged. Thrown backward to the ground the couple suffered the onslaught.
His wife landed on top of him. Her body shielded him from the force of the bushwhacking waylay. It was unfair. Heard more than a mile away down in the sleeping town of Zee the woman screamed in agony. Her husband punched and kicked the beast. He shouted, growled, and even spat on the thing but could not stop the attack on his beloved wife. He attempted to roll his wife over to shield her but the creature pressed her down onto him. The creature’s snarling teeth snapped onto her leg and pulled her toward the bush. Her husband held onto her hand with all his might. His other hand searched in panic for anything to wield off the attack.
Desperate fingers grasped hold of a stick. It was two inches round and three feet long with a crooked bend in the middle. He wrapped his hand tight around the stick and raised it above his head. He swung hard at the head of the thing. The branch splintered and snapped at the crooked bend in the center from the force of the blow.
The beast roared in fury. The noise carried far beyond the Zobbot forest, passed Zee, and echoed down Zingle Canyon. It reared tall and placed its massive claws on its snout. The monster released its grip on the woman’s leg to regather its wits. It screeched again, even louder. Its fury boiled. The man swung the shortened piece of the stick at the beast but missed. The piece flew from his hand and left several splinters in his palm. He tugged at his beloved wife and held one hand out to stop the creature.
The beast swiped at his palm and tore three gashes deep into the flesh. He shrieked and yanked his hand back. The beast lunged and bulldozed him back from his wife. The monstrous thing grabbed her leg and dragged her into the woods. The man leaped to his feet in pursuit but tripped over a root in the dark and fell, striking his head on a tree trunk. His eyes zwirled as he flopped onto the ground. Dark clouds blurred his vision. His mind crashed in waves. He slumped into a hump at the foot of the tree. His exhausted body heaved a deep breath before he slipped unconscious.
The woman screamed while the creature dragged her farther up the mountain. They continued until her labored breathing filled with blood. Finally, her horrified screams stopped. An unsettled quiet dropped over the Zobbot forest range.
There was a monster there. One never known to the people of Zee. And it kills.
The wind continued to gust, blowing leaves on the cold, moonless, damp, and muddy night. The man lay face down in the soft needle bed of the forest floor.
Z1 — Z1 — Z1 — Z1 — Z1
No family in Zee knew the truth of or felt the attack as deeply, yet talked about it less, than the Zaad family. It was a family story—the truth of it a secret—hidden in the dark shadows of a damp, cold, windy, moonless, muddy autumn night. A pain too great to discuss. An intense pain they alone suffered and endured in silence.
_________________________________________________
Prelude
Narrator
The thing lurked in the forest. Night after night in the moonlight or the rain or in the snow, it waited. It watched. It searched. It sniffed the air. But it stayed quiet. No one could come looking for it. And that dark, cold night, the wait was at an end. If it could do it.
How many terrible, horrifying stories start on cold, dark, moonless nights? Well…every one of them. This one was no different. One might claim it hackneyed cliché that the terrible event happened on a cold and moonless night. But still, it is how it happened.
On that damp, cold, moonless night they went for a stroll in the forest. The wind gusted cold into their faces as they stepped from their porch into the yard. The gusts drifted mounds of crispy autumn leaves dropped in the rain and dried by the gusty cold wind.
And it was muddy.
The thing's two weird, blood-red eyes peered from behind a black currant bush. They watched the couple walk in the woods for an evening wander. This was the night. No moon. No one else would be out in the cold wind and mud. It had to be. The thing had waited so long. When it was done, everyone in Zee and beyond would know of it. They would fear it. It would become a legend.
It was not a good idea to walk in the woods at night. But especially on a damp, gusty, cold, moonless night in the fall in the mud. The woods were not populated with copious numbers of carnivorous animals. Yet, the woods were home to badgers, bears, and the sporadic rattlesnake. Although far too cold of a night for those little creepers.
Even one who knew the woods in the daylight could become discombobulated and lose their way at night. This was especially true on dark and moonless nights. Lost in their abundant adoration, the couple strolled along. They disregarded the potential perils posed by a traipse in the woods. They promenaded hand in hand into the dark with a single flashlight to guide their way.
After a week of cold, driving rain and wind, they desired diversion. A long week of depressing cloud cover. Daily dismal runoff gushed down the streets. A week of constant displays of lightning with deafening thunder. They craved relief, freedom, and some fresh air. Out the back gate into the alley, they had strolled up the hill to the path that led straight into the woods.
They did not see those grotesque red eyes watching them.
In a sheltered and secluded spot along the trail, they stopped to kiss. The couple was still passionate even after many happily married years. No malevolent, muddy, moonless night could dissuade their doting demonstration of devotion.
The red eyes blinked, then narrowed. A guttural, grumbling growl went unheard by the passionate pair.
In a startling flash, it attacked. The couple had no time to react. Its razor claws and powerful paws swiped like wipers in a downpour. They slashed and scratched and scourged. Thrown backward to the ground the couple suffered the onslaught.
His wife landed on top of him. Her body shielded him from the force of the bushwhacking waylay. It was unfair. Heard more than a mile away down in the sleeping town of Zee the woman screamed in agony. Her husband punched and kicked the beast. He shouted, growled, and even spat on the thing but could not stop the attack on his beloved wife. He attempted to roll his wife over to shield her but the creature pressed her down onto him. The creature’s snarling teeth snapped onto her leg and pulled her toward the bush. Her husband held onto her hand with all his might. His other hand searched in panic for anything to wield off the attack.
Desperate fingers grasped hold of a stick. It was two inches round and three feet long with a crooked bend in the middle. He wrapped his hand tight around the stick and raised it above his head. He swung hard at the head of the thing. The branch splintered and snapped at the crooked bend in the center from the force of the blow.
The beast roared in fury. The noise carried far beyond the Zobbot forest, passed Zee, and echoed down Zingle Canyon. It reared tall and placed its massive claws on its snout. The monster released its grip on the woman’s leg to regather its wits. It screeched again, even louder. Its fury boiled. The man swung the shortened piece of the stick at the beast but missed. The piece flew from his hand and left several splinters in his palm. He tugged at his beloved wife and held one hand out to stop the creature.
The beast swiped at his palm and tore three gashes deep into the flesh. He shrieked and yanked his hand back. The beast lunged and bulldozed him back from his wife. The monstrous thing grabbed her leg and dragged her into the woods. The man leaped to his feet in pursuit but tripped over a root in the dark and fell, striking his head on a tree trunk. His eyes zwirled as he flopped onto the ground. Dark clouds blurred his vision. His mind crashed in waves. He slumped into a hump at the foot of the tree. His exhausted body heaved a deep breath before he slipped unconscious.
The woman screamed while the creature dragged her farther up the mountain. They continued until her labored breathing filled with blood. Finally, her horrified screams stopped. An unsettled quiet dropped over the Zobbot forest range.
There was a monster there. One never known to the people of Zee. And it kills.
The wind continued to gust, blowing leaves on the cold, moonless, damp, and muddy night. The man lay face down in the soft needle bed of the forest floor.
Z1 — Z1 — Z1 — Z1 — Z1
No family in Zee knew the truth of or felt the attack as deeply, yet talked about it less, than the Zaad family. It was a family story—the truth of it a secret—hidden in the dark shadows of a damp, cold, windy, moonless, muddy autumn night. A pain too great to discuss. An intense pain they alone suffered and endured in silence.