All of these prologues are really really good, you guys!!! I'm still trying to get some time to work on mine, or in fact, think what my book's even going to be about! I think that I've decided one, but I'm still not sure yet.

Prologue

                Only a few months ago, three girls and a boy went on a mission to save their dogs.  They didn’t know what had happened or anything else.  All they knew was that all the dogs in America had disappeared, and they were going to find them, no matter what.

                After a failed attempt, a run-in with some Dragons, several mishaps and a near death experience, they succeeded with only one problem, one of their members was believed to be dead.

                The truth was often puzzled over people who knew her and by the people who were into the news, gossip ect.  Of course, the three remaining from the first group were interrogated by many news reporters, friends, and families, but they never got anything more than, “She fell off a cliff and died.”

                Now, that was a very believable lie, but, what was more interesting was the fact that three teenagers went on a journey that many others had attempted at, but every last one of them had disappeared, and succeeded.  The kids’ answer to this was, “Luck, and no more than luck.”

                There was definitely luck in this particular episode.  But, they most certainly could not have made that incredibly perilous deed without anything but themselves and a pile of tents.  Many people were interested in the truth, but the three obstinate children wouldn’t tell.

                I won’t tell you how I  know this, but what really happened went something like this.  I will have to make it brief though because this is not what our story is about.  Don’t blame me if you don’t believe me.

                They left the first time in a minivan and failed.  Why?  They were attacked by wolves, intelligent wolves.  They had left with not much more that cell phones and a full tank of gas.  They came back with four dogs, a torn up leg and dashed spirits.

                But, they didn’t completely give up hope, and as soon as everyone was completely healed, they set out again.  This time they had camping supplies with them, and a Dragon.  Yes, I said Dragon.

                Want me to say it again?  Dragon.

                Finally they found the dogs.  But, they were presented with a new challenge.  The wolves that had attacked them were the ring-leaders and they were not about to give up their only chance for revenge without a fight.  And fight they did.  They had a battle with an army a Dragons, stole the coveted magic of the Dragons’, and tantalizing Dragons with their newly obtained magic, they agreed to trade for one thing.

                Back to the girl who was thought to have fallen off a cliff.  She was the one who had known about the Dragon all along because she was the Dragon Keeper.  She was the big boss, the head honcho, the one even the Dragons revered slightly.  She was a leader, maybe not always a good one, but a leader none the less.

                The wolves would trade either the dogs or the magic for the Keeper.  She would become a wolf and be part of their pack.  It was a strange request, but it was all they would trade for.

                The Keeper accepted eventually and in exchange got the dogs back, which the other three returned along with themselves and we end up back at where we started.

                But this is a different story.

                This is the story of Trisha, the lost member, the Keeper.  This is the tale of Sashrera, the Hidden Hero.

Anyway, I copied and pasted again.  BAAAAAD me.  This is a sequel to the other one I posted.

Open for editing:

     “O.K.!  I’m going already, you don’t have to yell!” said Niri (though she was yelling herself).

     The short, muscular man at the top of the stairs glared and slammed the heavy wooden door in Nirer’s face. Nirer, (Who preferred to be called Niri,) sighed and continued down the stairs.

     Niri was a slave, and a pale–skin (not all slaves were pale–skinned). Though, she was so tanned anyway that this was just because ‘normal–people’ (people with dark skin, like her owner Mirvak), couldn’t find anything else very insulting to say.

     Niri was really from the south, probably Trill, but as a child of six, she had been found wandering the border, with no memory of how she had gotten there. She had been sold as a slave to an old man that lived by the ‘border woods’, but he died three weeks later, and Niri had to be sold to pay for the funeral. She ended up in the care of Karkat, a ‘nice owner’ in Nirer’s opinion. But Karkat lost everything in a bet, and Niri was sold again. This time she was sold to Mirvak who was simply awful. He had loud parties and huge feasts on every occasion possible.

     Right now, he was feasting to celebrate the arrival of the Trillion Princess (Queen), Princess Tadewi Adsila, to Storngas, the capital of Moornk. Meanwhile, Nirer had been sent down to the wine cellar to fetch a 500–year–old bottle of Trillion wine. The bottle was made of thick umber glass; its label was white and attached with pine sap, not the traditional prickly pear resin that people of Moornk used to keep the labels from turning yellow over time.) Only, instead of having a bit of cotton and a slice of wood at the top, it had cork, or… what ever that was.

Edit, tear apart, shred, feed to your neighbor's dog, use it as a tent, whatever. 

*

The locals called it the Grant Street Tenements, because it stood at the intersection of Grant and Bradley and had rooms for rent. Ostensibly the old building made a passable home for its seven or eight inhabitants; at least, as passable a home as could be bought for a few hundred dollars a month.

Next to it stood a little cafe with all its windows bordered up but one. The quality of the food belied its broken exterior, so it did a steady business with most of the hundred-odd people who lived along Grant or the surrounding streets. Across the street were an antique bookstore and a tiny dollar store, both with faded façades and grimy windows. And where Bradley Street looped abruptly back on itself and became Clark Street was a small grocery store that had, in its twenty-seven years of operation, been the site of thirteen and a half murders (1), sixty eight robberies, and on one memorable occasion, a severely misinformed bank heist.

This made up the entirety of the downtown, and formed the epicenter of the despondency which characterized Ashfall, a tiny dusty little town on the edge of nowhere. In fact the downtown overshadowed much of the town proper, the rest being a collection of slightly dilapidated houses and an old brick school which stood on the outskirts and fell victim to a lot of angry teenagers with nothing better to do. 

No one quite knew what happened to Ashfall. Fifty years ago, the town boomed, thanks to the factory that made goods demanded across the globe. But now? The factory sat empty, the sidewalks suffocated under layers of dust and choking weeds, and the people were tired. Some said that taxes were to blame, others pointed fingers at the mayor, the interstate, kids these days, or computers. 

Whatever the reason, Ashfall festered.

Like all festering towns, it attracted the sort of people who are usually described in generous terms like weirdos, freaks, et cetera. And like all such towns, the weirdos needed someone to look down upon.

The Grant Street Tenements provided a home-- more or less- for those someones.

(1) The police only found the lower bits.

(2) Somehow, no one ever suggested that the blame lay with a severe oversight on the part of the factory workers: they forgot to make the product wear out.

*

I'm not sure it's "done" as a prologue yet, but it's what I have so far. Mainly it's an attempt to pull Ashfall together into an actual town rather than a stage for all my twenty-minutes-int0-the-future ideas. I'm worried it too closely resembles the town from Anyone Can Whistle, though. In my defense I thought Ashfall up before discovering ACW.

I wish I had a prologue to post. I have NO INSPIRATION, yet I wanna be a writer. You guys are lucky to be able to write. :D

 This was written on the spot. :)

 My heart pounded against my chest. It was so loud I thought someone would hear it. I heard footsteps coming down the hall. I looked at my door. Locked. The footsteps suddenly stopped outside of my door. The handle suddenly turned but the door wouldn't open. "LOCKED! MAn!" A deep voice shouted from outside the door. "I think I can get it. One sec!" I heard a muffled sound of someone rummaging around in a bag. They were going to break down the door. I looked around the room. There was one way out. The window. This was my chance of escape. I wrenched the window open and climbed out into the cold night air. "Slowly,Slowly." I said to myself. I crawled along the side of the roof. I suddenly heard a frightening bang from my room. I did the most idiotic thing I could possibly do on a roof. Run. I slipped over a shingle and felt myself sliding down. I was gaining speed. I tried to catch anything that was sticking out. Nothing. Was this the end. I felt my shirt catch on something and then cut my back. My eyes welled up with tears as a searing pain flew up my back. I couldn't think about this now. Those men were coming. Ic ould here them taking steps across the shingles trying not to fall. I then came to an idea. I jumped from the roof flying down, down. I screamed. A tree branch flicked me in the face. The wind blew in my face. I hit something scratchy but soft and started to cry. 

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I have a several prologues (because I'm doing a series) But here is the one I have the least critique on. 

The
moonlight fell softly down on the branches and leaves of the enormous trees.
High in the rustling foliage the Queen sat, gazing down on her kingdom. She had
done so much for it, tried so hard to rule it well... and now her final gift
was almost complete. Her brainchild, her dream, was to provide a way for all
rulers after her to be chosen well, with wisdom, by fate, destiny itself. There
would be no foolish choices, no incompetent rulers who were not meant to rule.
There would be no times of long uncertainty if a Queen died without a
successor. It was so close to completion. Of course, none of this would have
been possible without the Guardians. It was their power that was being used,
along with the Pearl of Unseen. And the Pearl of Unseen’s only purpose in this
project was to help determine what did and did not appear. Surface features
only. The real enchantment was much deeper than that. The trees’ magic was
being combined to create something stronger, surer, than what any of them
individually could do.

A
rustle of leaves warned her of someone’s approach. She turned to see Sybil, her
secretary, emerge from the foliage behind her with a light orb clutched in her
palm. The clear brilliance emanated from between her fingers, illuminating the
scene.

“Your
Majesty Queen Bethenie. The trees have told me. The Mirror is finished.”

The
Queen rose, her long raven hair tumbling down her back. “I come. Send out the
heralds--it will begin tomorrow. They must tell one and all to gather in the
royal city of Valyah-ikana.
The procession will commence. The heir will be found.”

And here is the other, please be as critical as possible, this has been gone over before.

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The
winds blew over the endless blue ocean, which rippled under the wide sky. The
surface was calm, and glittered blindingly in the intense sunlight, and the
water was so clear it seemed as though the sandy floor of the ocean was close
enough to stand on.

The
sparrows flew over it all, on toward their yearly migratory destination. And
then something appeared on the horizon, like an emerald on the sea. It seemed
to float towards them, rather than they flying towards it, for there was
nothing else at all to cast their eyes upon but the waves.

No
boats were in these waters, no humans knew of the place. No man had named the
island they were approaching, but the sparrows called it Ichatratinna, which means “birthplace” in their own tongue.

They
swooped down to its sun-baked beach. A dense forest covered the island, and in
its shade grew all kinds of strange and beautiful plants. But there was one in
particular they had come for. They flew through the forest, silently winging
past trees and vines, until they found the place. Flowers, larger than tulips,
the color of the blue sky at noon stood together in the grove. They were not
opened, but nodded their round buds side to side in the wind. Each bird dropped
down, seized a stem in its talons, and flew straight up through the canopy of
leaves and into the sunlight.

The
flock flew on northward, and the flowers passed over many miles of ocean. They
came to land, to meadows, plains, lakes, rivers, and mountains, and also
through storms and rain, sun and shadow. At last they reached their
destination. The heads of the flowers were ready to burst into bloom, and
dragged the birds toward the ground.

They
flew low over a forest, and passing just above the treetops, they dropped their
burdens.

A
shout rose up from the forest floor, but the sparrows were already too far away
to hear it. “The travelers have come!” And the flowers, over half a dozen, were
gathered; their stems trimmed, and carried off to wait for the hatching.