The Guardian

How would you like to be told that you're to play babysitter -fine, Guardian- to a guy who basically ignored your existence through high school for practically no reason whatsoever. Would you feel pis

Prologue

 

Tension lines creased her face as the woman kept walking hurriedly, her head flicking back and forth as though expecting someone to pop out of nowhere. She passed by the town square, or so it seemed, as she wove her way through the crowd.

 

The peoples’ attire suggested that the time period was that of the 1800's. The place seemed to be London, if the surroundings were anything to go by.

 

“London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady,” the melodious choir of children sang in the corner attracting a crowd of passersby, probably tourists by the looks of it.

 

“Stop ignoring the signs Deloris, stop running and pay attention.”

 

Ignoring the voice in her head, the woman named Deloris continued walking to the main road, her frown deepening with every step that she took.

 

An outstretched arm and a whistle later she found herself seated in a cab rolling down the windows to let the faint scent of cigarette smoke out.

 

After repeating her destination twice, slower the second time so the cabbie could understand her, she sat back in her seat wiping the sweat from her forehead with a plan handkerchief, the letters “DA” embroidered in the silk.

 

The cab jerked to a halt, horns blaring in every direction as a crowd began to gather on the pavement facing the river Thames.

 

Cursing, Deloris looked out the open window hoping to understand what the commotion was all about. A foreboding sense of dread began to rise in the pit of her stomach.

 

“What if…what if they got to him?”

 

“No,” she shook her head, “that isn’t possible…it just isn’t.”

 

Little did she know that it was, and that the next few seconds of her life were going to signify the end of everything she’d worked to accomplish.

 

So close, yet so far.

 

 

Soon enough, she heard a sickening crack followed by a long loud groan as though hoping to confirm her worst fears.

 

“I warned you didn’t I?” the voice inside her head said again.

 

The most baffling thing was that the voice didn’t belong to Deloris. For one, it was deep, much like a male’s voice would sound and for another, it kept taunting Deloris, subtly chiding her for an unknown mistake.

 

“And this affects me how?” Deloris growled back mentally.

Telepathy, perhaps?

 

“Think, why target the bridge of London? They surely aren’t looking to draw attention towards themselves. What do they get out of this?” the voice asked her.

 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe whomever they are think that you might miraculously be present there resulting in your much awaited death” Deloris sneered in response.

 

“Now then, if only I had a reputation for being so stupid, maybe I would consider the possibility, but I do not. Though where do you reckon dear little Oliver is at the moment?” the voice probed.

 

“On a ferry across the River Thames on a class trip…” Deloris’ eyes widened yet she refused to believe it. She refused to believe that she’d lost him.

 

Yet as realization dawned on her bit by bit, the denial turned to regret, hope fading away as recent memories came to the surface.

 

The children singing about the London Bridge falling down, the sickening crack, Oliver on a ferry which would pass by the bridge; of course, they were throwing it in her face all along.

 

“No, this cannot be happening, they can’t have gotten to Oliver” she shouted, as if saying the words out loud would somehow change reality, “they couldn’t have, he can’t be dead. He just can’t.”

Another sickening crack, another loud groan, and tears surrounded Deloris’ eyes. A symphony of cries sounded from somewhere beneath the masses, as the sound of concrete scraping metal silenced everyone surrounding the collapsing bridge.

 

With each staggering step, Deloris pushed through the crowd towards the railing overlooking the river. Even through the haze of her tears she could make out the ruin of white and gray that carried a class of children including her dearest Oliver.

 

The ship had been torn to pieces and the only consolation was the lack of blood staining the river.

 

But just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

 

“It’s over,” said the voice, a calm melancholy laced within, “I warned you but you failed to listen.”

 

Author's Note

Found anything off?

Reviews

[Delmar Cooper]

I can make little sense of the story. The beginning, indicating 1800's, town square and London leads in one direction, tourists, cabs and blaring horns in another. Is Deloris A. a figure from history that my education neglected? Why do I need to know her initials are D.A.? should I know something of Oliver the story is not telling?

In short the story does not supply sufficient information for this reader to understand the premise.

[MysteriesUnsolved]

Well that is the point of a prologue is it not? To provide a subtle glance into the story. All the questions you asked, about the initals etc, are subtle hints building up to a greater plot that later make the reader go- "Ahhh, so that's what it meant."

The questions you asked indicated curiosity and curiosity is what gets a reader flipping the page to a new chapter. The premise starts from the first chapter, the prologue introduces what's to come later on. Like a glimpse into the future or present of the book, or at least that's the way I've seen some writers use a prologue.

[Delmar Cooper]

I didn’t even think about this being a prologue and viewed it as a portion of story so ignore all the rubbish I sent you. Apologies, mea culpa.

Prologue, like the first sentence, or the first fifty words of a long writing serves its purpose if it intrigues and propels the reader into the story. It fails its purpose if it confuses or daunts the reader from moving forward. It also does duty as providing back story when possible.

If you are satisfied that the prologue works I look forward to chapter one.

[MysteriesUnsolved]

The fact about the prologue being too confusing for a reader is something I hadn't taken into consideration. Quite intriguing, really. I'll keep that in mind whenever I write a prologue in the future, so thanks for the words of wisdom.

Chapter 1, I fear, is going to be mundane compared to this one but thanks for the review. I'll be returning the favour soon enough.

Out of curiosity, what does mea culpa mean?

[Mila]

I liked how you started this off, without giving too much away. It will serve well later one, as the story progresses and we begin to catch onto things as we read on.
Didn't find too much that was off, just a few little things here and there that I thought I'd list here for you. I hope they help! :)
"1800s." when writing a year, or so I've been told and have seen numerous times, it's supposed to be "1800's" instead. I make that mistake a lot too.
The sentence "The place seemed to be London if the surroundings were anything to go by." is very well thought out and written, but it seemed rushed. Try tossing in a comma after "London", so as to give it a break. That way you can convey the thought at a steady and sufficient pace. :)
I saw a few tiny things here and there in regards to commas and breaks. Usually, what I do to help me figure out where they need to go, is that I read my work to myself and get the feel of how it flows. Sometimes people break abruptly for dramatic purposes but, sometimes, it's not so necessary.
A very intriguing beginning! I really, really thought it was very creative and you didn't give away too much which, sometimes, is the beauty of reading stories.
I enjoyed it, well done! :)

[MysteriesUnsolved]

I noticed the errors you mentioned and they have been corrected. I'll certainly read my stories to myself from now on and I'm glad you enjoyed reading this!
Thanks for taking the time to leave a review