Prologue

Prologue

A Chapter by Joel O. Mclean
"

The origin of the outer district.

"

Prologue

Pa was one of the first, the first that weren’t meant to be. In the final days of earth being considered a civilisation a great metal dome was built to conceal a little part of everywhere special. It was a preservation of humanities greatest achievements and its natural glories that remained.

It was reserved for the best of humankind too, the rich, the famous and the clever. These were the ones the dome was meant for. As for the rest, as far as the worlds governing bodies were concerned, they could rot. Pa thought differently. Just because he didn’t have money, or fame, shouldn’t mean that he did not deserve to live. And such was the mentality of others too, as soon Pa met people from far and wide who believed they too should be saved.

Pa may have been the first in his mind, but it was from America that, “the leader” came. He never told anyone his name and never removed his cap or glasses, whether he was inside or out. No one knew why for sure, but Pa had his ideas about why exactly, “the leader” was so mysterious. He was very good with words as well, like a persuasive voice from an advert on the radio. This meant that he had many “followers”. Pa once talked to one of them who said that there were mumblings among them, that he was the second coming of Christ. Pa, being a sensible level headed man passed it off as pure rumour. He had the idea that “the leader” didn’t remove these items because he knew he would be instantly recognised, or that he was in hiding.

Nonetheless, “the leader” seemed to get things done, people came up to him and whispered in his ear. Nods of the head were exchanged and then the person walked away. Then all of a sudden Pa would let out his booming voice, to call the attention of his followers and tell them magnificent news. Strange thing was that these people he met with, the ones who whispered in his ear, were always from the same group of people. There were three, two men and one woman, never someone different. Whether this was significant or not, Pa couldn’t tell, but he had his suspicions.

It was a few weeks later that Pa decided he would attach himself to a group of “the leaders” followers, a group of hippy types, who grew up in Pa’s own era. Thinking they’d have something in common, he tagged along. He didn’t converse with many of them, just listened. The only man he did talk to was a man named Charlie. Charlie was around the age of 40 and was nowhere near as wise as old Pa. So Pa took Charlie under his wing, and explained what was going on.

Pa would often amuse himself by telling Charlie about his suspicions. About who he thought “the leader” was, why he wore his cap and his glasses, about the three people who whispered in his ear. Slowly but surely Pa, lead by Charlie disbanded from the group of hippy types, not like any of them noticed.

It was a few months after “the leader” came over from America, and one of the men, from the three, came and whispered in his ear. Pa and Charlie veered from conversation about farming, which Charlie looked awfully pleased to have done so, because they noticed that the mass crowd of people following “the leader” suddenly started to move, in a huddle. Charlie stood up and gestured for Pa to follow. Reluctantly Pa did so, he didn’t like all the huff caused by this “leader” fellow.

After following them for about an hour, Pa’s legs were tired, which was good timing seen as the group came to a halt. On the way Pa had slowed down so Charlie unintentionally got a bit ahead of himself, and Pa lost him in the crowd, but when they stopped and Pa took a seat on a nearby tree stump, Charlie emerged from the crowd of hustling bodies.

Charlie called to Pa and kept repeating the same words till he ran out of breath. “We’re getting in the dome Pa, we’re getting in the dome!” Pa was too tired to let out some sign of excitement. But he knew that deep down, he was overjoyed. As it happened this would turn out to be true. When the crowd dispersed a little, Pa could see the sea through the forest of bodies, and floating on the see was a large vessel, which looked like it could cut through water like a blade. Pa suddenly found the energy to lift himself from his perch, navigate round Charlie, and charge through the crowd of people. Hundreds of them bustling to see, but Pa just drove on through. The sight was majestic, a large matt black vessel sat in the water, and immediately Pa realised how we would be getting on. A large door opened toward the back of the vessel, and some men in high visibility jackets loaded things on with a fork lift. When they left, they left the cargo bay doors open, then suddenly the group started moving again. Like a massive covert operation, they sneaked round the side and into the cargo bay. Pa felt tired, tired yet full of energy, and when Charlie found him, he was too out of breath. Charlie had a lot of energy for a 40 year old. Which is why Pa was shocked when it happened. The followers, Pa and Charlie lived well enough off the supplies in the cargo bay, and every now and then, they’d have to hide from some officer who came to check the cargo.

It was about 3 weeks since they’d got into the cargo hold, and the vessel had set sail about 5 days ago. We were keeping fit by running up and down the cargo bay. This made the officers visits more frequent, but they said the same thing every time, it’s just a rat.

But the day Charlie died struck Pa like a rock to the head. It was that fatal day, when the sea was particularly violent and Pa and Charlie were racing up and down the Cargo bay. The hatch to the main part of the vessel, suddenly opened but Charlie was down the other end catching his breath. We all made it to safety, to hiding. But Charlie was in plain site. “Hey you!, Intruder!” Charlie stopped still, a look of horror on his face. He stared into the face of Pa who had tears running down his face. “Pa! Pa save me!” He was helpless, and the minute the officer seized him it happened. The doctor later diagnosed that it was a heart attack. But that was a blow to Pa’s heart. Pa fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He picked himself back up and ran at the approaching officer.

Letting out a cry of anguish, Pa swung his right fist, straight for the face of the officer, it struck true but Pa didn’t care. He ran straight for Charlie’s limp body. Lifeless, Pa couldn’t bear to behold it. “Noooo! Charlie!!” He shook Charlie’s body but nothing happened. He just sat there, sobbing soaking Charlie’s clothes with tears. Charlie’s lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling, and Pa hugged him closely. Pa had lost everything he held dear.

Footsteps of a group of officers could be heard, but Pa didn’t care. They tryed to take Pa into custody, and it took a few, as Pa’s grief fuelled rage held off a few of them. But he couldn’t handle them all. He was dragged away screaming from Charlie’s dead body, Pa was a wreck. That day Charlie died, marked a milestone in Pa’s life, he considered all his life wasted. With Charlie dead, and everyone in custody apart from “the leader” which Pa only noticed a few days after Charlie’s death. That moment, when Pa was dragged kicking and screaming from Charlie’s dead body, was the last time he saw his boy.

Pa was very much reserved from that point, most of the followers talked to each other, seen as there weren’t enough cells for on each they shared about 10 to a cell. Pa stayed quiet, curled up in the corner. Spent most of the time asleep, but whether he was sleeping or awake, Charlie was all that was on his mind. 3 months they spent on that boat, until one day the door to the vessel’s jail swung open and in strode “the leader”.

He had all the doors opened, and everyone followed him, even Pa. They ran for the door, as hard as they could, no one questioned “the leader’s” sudden appearance, not even Pa. They headed for the hatch, the cargo bay hatch, and from there the cargo bay doors. Once at the cargo bay doors, no one stayed to admire the scenery. They just ran, ran as fast and as hard as they could. They ran until they could run no longer, blocked they were by the edge of the dome. Most were separated, cut off from each other. Rumours were spread from group to group that a few people were caught and killed on sight. But they couldn’t get them all; at least that was their mentality.

A few days later they heard an announcement from some sort of speaker system, like you get in shops. “We have captured and killed 16 of you in the past three days, and have decided to let the rest of you live. Catching you would be impractical and a waste of our time, so we’re cordoning you off from the rest of us, you will be known as the outer district and you are forbidden to enter the central district.” Most of “the leaders” followers counted this as a victory, but Pa was very reserved. He had recently grown close to a woman named Hannah, he spoke only to her, as she understood was he was going through, she had lost her husband, who was captured and killed in the days before the outer district. She didn’t realise but after a few months, Pa and Hannah knew she was with child.

“I want you to be a father to my child” Hannah said to him one day. Pa’s face lit up, as bright as a face could after you had lost all you cared for. Hannah and Pa started living together. Despite being in the outer district, there was housing, and available supplies given to them by the authorities, as they became known. The outer district was a nice enough place to live. Hannah gave birth to her child 7 months later, but Hannah had one request. “I want you to name him.” She said to Pa. Pa looked bemused and delighted at the same time, but he had no need to think about it. He spoke with happiness in his voice for the first time in a long time, and he did so boldly. “I want to call him Charlie, yes... Charlie shall be his name”.



© 2012 Joel O. Mclean


Author's Note

Joel O. Mclean
Requested by Matthew Ian Herrawood, I have put my last efforts of the day into a prologue for my book. Enjoy

My Review

Would you like to review this Chapter?
Login | Register




Featured Review

You have the gift of storytelling. Though I didn't know what was happening in your piece it drew me onward hoping for clarity and reference. I struggled to find a mental handhold that would allow me to grasp where we were being taken. The Prologue is used to 'set up' your storyline. Perhaps some editing would serve to give the reader the proper reference points.

I found a good definition of Prologue - A prologue is an opening to a story that establishes the setting and gives background details, often some earlier story that ties into the main one, and other miscellaneous information.

You might consider telling a bit about your narrators life with Pa before...let the reader know how it was, leading to how it changed and how it now is...which will make up the book. You mentioned the silver dome and the leader...that's a good start... Prologues are not as necessary when writing about what the reader is already familiar with. "I grew up on my grandparents farm. My parents left me there when they left to fight in the French Resistance. They never came back". The history of WWII is in my mind so not much more is needed.

When writing science fiction the first part of the story must establish parameters and structure for the reader. All the best to you.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

You have the gift of storytelling. Though I didn't know what was happening in your piece it drew me onward hoping for clarity and reference. I struggled to find a mental handhold that would allow me to grasp where we were being taken. The Prologue is used to 'set up' your storyline. Perhaps some editing would serve to give the reader the proper reference points.

I found a good definition of Prologue - A prologue is an opening to a story that establishes the setting and gives background details, often some earlier story that ties into the main one, and other miscellaneous information.

You might consider telling a bit about your narrators life with Pa before...let the reader know how it was, leading to how it changed and how it now is...which will make up the book. You mentioned the silver dome and the leader...that's a good start... Prologues are not as necessary when writing about what the reader is already familiar with. "I grew up on my grandparents farm. My parents left me there when they left to fight in the French Resistance. They never came back". The history of WWII is in my mind so not much more is needed.

When writing science fiction the first part of the story must establish parameters and structure for the reader. All the best to you.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

i enjoyed this. there is a typo or two but its mainly just a letter left of the end like the 'd' in crowd. i think the leader is an interesting addition and i have a few ideas running through my head on what may be going on. nice write

Posted 9 Years Ago



Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

263 Views
2 Reviews
Rating
Added on February 26, 2012
Last Updated on February 27, 2012
Tags: lonely, loneliness, utopia, dome, leader, mystery, loss, friend, meaning


Author

Joel O. Mclean
Joel O. Mclean

Bradford, West Yorkshire, United Kingdom



About
I hit sixteen half a year ago (speaking in 2012, February), and have attempted to write my own novel/book for a while now. You could say my main interest is computers, most notably the programming sid.. more..

Writing
Chapter 1 Chapter 1

A Chapter by Joel O. Mclean