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Chatterbox: Inkwell
Ascent~
Prologue
When they call me Crystal, they aren’t referring to my birth name. They are talking about the way the way I have formed slowly, over time. The way that I am unique. The way I am sharp around the edges. I am born from heat and pressure. I am something that reflects the firelight of evening storytelling and glows with an eerie glimmer. I’ve come so far. Built up so much. I thought I left nothing behind, when I left an eternity and embraced a void. I am a riddle; an enigma. I come from a farm in the land of peace, and yet I set out to prove that peace is a relative thing. So when they talk about me, they are talking about a shadow of myself, because I think I left myself behind years ago. I think I left myself behind the day you were forced to leave. I think I left myself behind when I saw you board the ship and felt I was already sinking. I know you had no choice, and yet some part of me went missing that day, and I’m still looking for it in all the wrong places. You asked me what happened. I’m still wondering. You asked me who I really am. I still don’t know. You asked me where it started. This one, I can answer. It started on the little farm in Zequa. I hope this answers your questions, although I don’t know whether or not it counts as an explanation.
Yours,
Crytal Ocee
Okay, this is the prologue to my FIRST EVER NanoNovel! I only have about 3,500 words so far :( but hey, it's a nice start of what is hopefully going to become an annual tradition. So, I don't write a lot of fantasy, and this book is very difficult for me to configure. I'm especially having trouble introducing the different chatacters. I thought your typical, cliche, mysterious letter prologue might make it a little easier, but the question is...is it too vague? Does it make you want to read the rest, or are you like (*Thomas Jefferson Voice*): WHAAAAAAAAAAT?
submitted by Rose bud, age 15
(November 20, 2017 - 9:40 am)
(November 20, 2017 - 9:40 am)
And I want the rest.
(November 20, 2017 - 2:39 pm)
Okay, sorry, the spacing turned out weird and I think I forgot a paragraph of the explanation Lol don't trust Rosebud to do something in the morning :)
So basically, I just wanted your honest opinion. If you picked up a book and the first page was the prologue pasted above, would you want more, or would you be like, "what is this?" And go read ADSOM.
(November 20, 2017 - 4:24 pm)
If I found this book at the library or book store, I would definatly read it!
(November 20, 2017 - 5:36 pm)
I would SO keep reading. This sounds AWESOME, and I don't say this about everything! I would love to read more!
(November 20, 2017 - 6:00 pm)
I would keep reading, for a while at least.
(November 20, 2017 - 8:03 pm)
vey coolio! I can’t wait for more!
(November 20, 2017 - 9:38 pm)
Oh, okay, here's the next paragraph! I hope that the story will live up to its crazy introduction.
(November 21, 2017 - 11:07 am)
*smacks forehead* I don't think I posted it, did I?
A language is dying, and I am the only one that cares. I am the only one who still pours over old books, covers rotted by seawater, in order to painstakingly translate symbols that are no longer in use. Perhaps I am the only one who still believes in magic…
I slam the heavy book of symbols shut. Dust curls from its pages, rising to tickle my nose. The title stands bold and intricate on the cover, which is starting to fold inward at the corners. Lua Fae. “Moon magic.” I’ve been trying to translate it for nearly 3 years, ever since my friend Em found it for me on one of her voyages. I can still only recognize a few word fragments that somehow are popular enough to still be used today, like the seasons of the calendar. I know it is a children’s book, because of the unique illustrations scattered throughout the thick, wrinkled pages. All of them depict fantastical creatures playing in a garden illuminated my moonlight, which is created by masterful shading. Some of the creatures have great, lacy wings, others have horns and hooves like beasts, though they still resemble humans. My favorites are the miniature, flying figures in the background of each image. At first, they resemble insects. On closer inspection, I realized they were really horses bearing tiny dragonfly wings. Their manes and tails seem alight with fire. They have a fierceness about them. A sort of wild strength that the artist somehow captured in their crazed eyes and flaming nostrils. I wonder if they are the main protagonists, or maybe the villains of the story.
(November 21, 2017 - 11:08 am)
AAAAAAAAAAA Rose bud this is amazing!!! If I were to read that prologue of your book in the library when I was browsing, I would be like, this book is coming home with me today. PERIOD. i am not really sure of the context, but I wouldn't want it to be any other way because it makes the book all that more intriguing. Don't stop the awesome writing!!! I applaud you. My NaNo novel doesn't even have two whole pages yet.
(November 21, 2017 - 2:13 pm)
Oooh, very interesting! I'd love to read more. This seems really cool! :D
(November 21, 2017 - 2:18 pm)
I really like this! That first bit sparked my interest and if I read this in passing at a library I would totally check the book out. This is great! Your words have excellent color, if that makes any sense.
(November 21, 2017 - 2:05 pm)
Man, Rosey! This is really cool! I must read more!
(November 21, 2017 - 6:37 pm)
(November 21, 2017 - 8:57 pm)
Wow Rosebud, that was really good! It's a little vague but that just makes it more mysterious. I would definitely read this if I picked it up. I really like it :)
(November 23, 2017 - 11:50 am)
Wow. Thanks y'all! I didn't expect so much feedback. NanoWriMo is drawing to a close, and I feel like I've barely scratched the surface on my story. I think I'll just return to it every November and try to write more words on it each time.
Anway, here's a little more.
Light filters in from my window, as the sun slowly rises high enough to look in, whisking away the early shadows. I let the book thump to the floor. It lands among scattered papers, ripped notebook pages, pencil stubs and bits of coal for drawing, clinking beads and buttons, and other mementos I have collected over the years. Sometimes I keep them on the three wooden shelves tacked up on one pale grey wall. Other times, I leave them in disarray and glory in the center of my rebellion. I look out the window and through a thin fringe of pine trees. Beyond, a series of squat chicken coops weave throughout the trees. A tall figure rises up from behind one of them. Squinting, I can make out an untidy tuft of brown hair—lighter than mine, bobbing up and down around the houses. Asta’s at his chores early, or is it that I’m just…late for breakfast? I jump up in a hurry, landing back in reality with a dull thump. I’m not prancing in a pool of moonlight, chasing winged horses and dreaming of magic. In the good, solid life of the Ocees, there is no fantasy necessary. We use egg carts and hoes and planters and baskets. We have a reputable past and a promising future. We don’t believe in magic.
(November 24, 2017 - 7:54 pm)