Bits And Pieces: Prolog

• Artist: Vivian Arcane
• Description: I began a new story and would like to know if I should continue. Comments and criticism will be greatly appreciated. I know it's very open and has holes but it is supposed to be that way. This is, after all, only the prolog and is used to get attention and a taste of the story before it really begins.
• Date: 03/18/2009
• Tags: bits pieces

Please make sure that if you have not read the segments previous this one that you do so before reading the below entery. Also, check out the newer entires. Make sure you go in order! n.n

Here are the links to the other sections that came before and after this one:

Prolog <--- You Are Here
Part One
Part Two

“No!”

A scream? And, oh, what a scream it was. Bloodcurdling, violent, desolate; a shriek belonging to the Angel of the Arcane. It was a scream that could splinter bones like broken glass and rupture blood cells. The scream of the fallen, the forsaken, the punished. It reeked of anguish, loathing, rage, destitution. All things felt by its creator.

Glassy eyes, resembling rain if you were gazing at it through a foggy window, stared frantically at the creatures set before them. The wild intensity of those eyes burned into the skin of the angel’s captors. Snow pale skin, which shimmered like captured moonlight, was stretched over a leanly muscled frame of bones and trapped organs.

Over that insipid, delicate looking skin a blinding white, frayed material was placed. It was in the form of long torn pants, a midriff top with long tattered sleeves and bare almost blue feet. A shock of short, choppy, feathery, electric blue hair fluttered over the rain gray of her eyes. If seen by a human the outfit most likely would have been considered “punk”.

Though the angel contained the body of a warrior, the archangels had been prepared for such a thing and had taken precautions. The Angel of the Arcane had been stripped of her weapons. Black shackles gripped her wrists and were connected to the ground, holding her on her knees. She struggled violently against them, her eyes flashing a liquid crimson that matched her rage.

A revolting crack—a sound that could cause one to retch just from hearing it—followed by a silence such as never before experienced. Darkness pulsed against the angel’s skin, rippling over it, crashing against it, causing a pain of its own. Suddenly, though, it was that same painful darkness that was wanted and welcomed.

The Angel of the Arcane, known less formally as Vivian, wanted nothing more than to never wake again. While her mind floated in the bliss of unconsciousness, tears brimmed in her living forms’ eyes. Why? She couldn’t help but ask herself. Why has this happened? She didn’t understand, couldn’t even begin to contemplate the reasons. All she knew—it was all her fault.

Kai…I’m sorry…

Comments

[OLHearts]

DEMAND?! lol another nice one
^_^ ur STILL "unnamed" story was I think much better too

[Kurotearai]

...Also, I DEMAND that you write more. D< And that you PM me if you wanna talk more about it. o:

[Kurotearai]

I'll honestly say that you did an epic job of calling the reader's attention. Not only was that extremely well written, but I couldnt stop reading it. The only criticism I have is that there seem to be a few stereo types, like the the changing eye color, for instance (one could argue that that was figurative, but it doesnt seem that way) and the whole angel thing. However, a really good writer - one seemingly like yourself - can make stuff like that work out. Anyway, I'd say that this is great.