Prolog to my novel "CHAT"

Prolog to my novel "CHAT"

A Story by E.L. Dawson

This is just the prolog, if you like what you read and want to spaoncer me to get it published in book form call me at 317-268-4449









The wind was blowing to the south, rattling the browning leaves off the trees around the cemetery. The crisp smell of the coming winter was in the air, and the spookiness of the approaching dusk, gave the cemetery a feeling of gloom. In the sky above, circling ominously flew a murder of crows. The scavengers would circle, then come down to a stone, light, then take off again. They would wait and watch.

The grass had already turned brown, and the critters were getting ready to start their hibernation, the time of harvest was near. The rows and rows of head stones stood out like the thumbs of some forgotten underground demons. Just looking at them, you knew that each one held a story. Row after row, you knew they would be there for centuries,

Tattered remnants were all that remain of the people in their underground cement vaults below. Just looking at the stones made you want to cry. All the people, all the stories, all the love, hate, beauty, everything was gone from this place. It was a dead place. This was a place of no emotion, a necropolis of complete and utter death. Every stone sent the message that no one escapes the clutches of the grim reaper.

Headlights from the approaching car turned down the road that would take the person behind the wheel to the newer part. Watching from high up the crows circled faster and faster. They knew their prey was at hand. The red, Buick pulled over, and the lights went out. A young girl opened the door, and she got out. She was wearing a plaid wool skirt, and powder pink turtleneck. Her long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail in the back of her head. She looked out of place in this old bone yard, though she knew where she was going, and walked with a purpose. She had a brown paper bag in her hand, and opened it as she walked, revealing a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Looking around she saw that she was alone, and felt more comfortable sitting in front of the stone, she opened the bottle, and took a drink. The stone read LUCAS JARED MATTHEWS BORN: 1989. DIED: 2009. It was a marble stone, rounded, with his picture shellacked into it. Looking at it brought tears to her eyes.

“Why, Luke, why?” She cried, as she put her sobbing face down upon his stone. “Do you have any idea what you have done to me? Any idea at all?”

Her voice was getting louder with every outburst, until she found herself screaming. She hated herself and everyone one around. She wanted so badly, to start digging and pull up the man that she loved and just beat the s**t out of him.

“Do you know everybody thinks I have lost my mind? Huh? They do! And I think they are right!” She blubbered. She drank deeply from the bottle, and swallowed. “I miss you so bad Luke! You really have no idea how much!” She wrapped her arms around his stone and just let the tears roll.

Feeling the wind pick up, she raised her head just as a crow landed on Luke’s stone. She jumped. “Get out of here!” She screamed. “He’s already dead, and buried!”

The crow just sat there and looked at her, as if saying ‘I know what you are up to, you can’t fool me.” Looking at the crow, she thought to herself. ‘He looks as if he’s smiling.’

The eyes of the crow was as black as the approaching darkness and it blinked at her, as if daring her to make a sudden move, though she really didn’t care. She knew what she wanted to do, and was going to make sure that this time, nothing would stop her.

Standing up, she took one final drink from the bottle, and poured the rest on the grave. “Here you are sweetie. Drink up!” She said, watching the contents fall onto the ground.

The crow started cawing, and the young woman threw the empty bottle at it, missing the bird, and smashing it on a stone on the other side of Luke’s. The crow flew away. “Screw you bird!” She yelled out, and sat on the top of the grave.

She opened the pill bottle, and downed a handful. She sat there humming to herself, and let the Oxycontin, and Jack do their stuff. The light-headedness was taking its toll, and she laid her head upon his stone. The thought of finality was drifting through her head, and she knew that she was crying. She knew her pain was almost over, and that in the next life she and Luke might be together. She tried to think of the good times that she had with Luke, and all the other things that made her happy, and found herself focusing on her family. She would miss her mom and her brothers, and she knew that they would miss her, but this was the only way that she could get rid of her pain, the pain that just kept coming, promising no relief, just the ongoing feeling of doom. Her life!

She could feel herself drifting out of consciousness; she opened her eyes one last time and could see a pair of headlights turning into to the cemetery. She was glad that at least the vultures up above wouldn’t be able to pick her clean, and then she drifted off, to unconsciousness.

© 2011 E.L. Dawson

My Review

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This was much better than what I reviewed yesterday. Much, much better so I guess I do believe you when you say you proof read well. But again, a few minor details all pertaining to description once again. For example:
A young girl opened the door, and she got out. She was wearing a plaid wool skirt, and powder pink turtleneck. Her long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail in the back of her head.

A young girl opened the door and stepped out, wearing a plaid woolen skirt and a powder pink turtleneck. Her long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail on the back of her head.

There. I just combined two sentenced together which made it simpler to read as well as understand. But then again, these are my suggestions. There is no compulsion to do it the way I suggested. And like i mentioned before, my grammar equally needs a lot of work. But I hoped I helped a little bit.
Still, the book does sound quite interesting, I wish you all the luck in getting it published. All in all, great work =]


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Added on February 12, 2011
Last Updated on February 12, 2011
Tags: drama, sadness, suicide, graveyard, prolog


E.L. Dawson
E.L. Dawson


I am looking for a sponcer to help me get my first novel "CHAT" published! more..