Do you approaching to read deeply?
Then you should help me! I'm trying to make it more suspenseful, because I know it's not:(
Here is my PROLOGUE:
The visions begin when I was nine years old. I would be enjoying any everyday day—playing hopscotch outside, reading a fantasy novel, making mud pies by myself in the rain—and they would unexpectedly hit me.
They be always the same one. I would be walking—I never knew where—and I could not see. Darkness enveloped me, as if my eyes be disconnected from my brain. But I always continued to roam on in the cold, silent, lonely nothingness. It was involuntary. I only just had to walk, as if I were waiting for something... needed to gather the intangible feeling.
It took me a long while of roaming to decide I needed to rest. I would sit down and stare out into the distance. Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven... on the thirty-eighth second of gazing into gloominess a misty, grey, faint figure loomed into view. It looked similar to a harsh cloud of smoke, but before I could fully realize what the object be, it briskly evaporated.
And suddenly, a set of dagger-like teeth began to tear into the flesh in the spinal column of my calve. It was gnawing into my muscles, snapping my tendon, slurping my skin.
I could surface the severing pain, like someone was slicing my right leg next to a saw. I could feel the blood flowing out of me. I could hear the disgusting crunching noises. I could feel the vivid desire to flee.
I be forcefully indifferent, it was an indispensable act. I had no self control over my travels. But my body was frozen, I couldn't scream or fall or retaliate, lately let the carnivorous creature devour me. I just stopped caring. It be agonizing, yes, but I'd been through it numerous times, and eventually stopped trying to revive myself from the horrid dream.
Before long though, someone usually came to rescue me.
"Enough!," the man would yell.
I hear the monstrous creature devouring my leg squeal in misery, like a dog, and the pain vanished. Then the guy come into view—or whatever he was. His face frame be skeletal, I was sure he hadn't eaten for awhile. The skin covering it was wan, and had an ill looking texture to it with wrinkles. His eyes be a fluorescent grey, shining brightly in the dim light—and extremely bloodshot. This man wasn't human-like. This man was dangerous. Yet still I could not move.
"Ha ha ha ha ha. My apologies, miss," He said flashing me a menacing, revolting, smile. His teeth be triangles and severely pointed. They were brown with decay. Also red—from blood.
He laugh again, flashing me his teeth, "It's my turn now," he said.
And before I knew it, he bit into afterwards base of my throat, and started to feed upon it, too.
That's when I usually woke up.
Answers:
There are many books out here with the same idea.
I judge it's OK, but don't suggest that you try publishing it, since many books are written each year and many deal in less than a hundred copies, since the publishers get most of the money your book makes, you are moved out with the rest which isn't much at all. You can do writing as a hobby, but keep your morning job.
Related Questions:
What generous of poetic devices does the Author use and how is it used it surrounded by nouns beside the unbroken poem?
Still I RiseYou may write me down in historyWith your bitter, twisted lies,You may trod me in the very dirtBut still, close to dust, I'll rise.Does my sassiness upset you?Why are you beset with gloom?'Cause I walk close to I've...
What are some apposite mystery books?
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Here is my PROLOGUE:
The visions begin when I was nine years old. I would be enjoying any everyday day—playing hopscotch outside, reading a fantasy novel, making mud pies by myself in the rain—and they would unexpectedly hit me.
They be always the same one. I would be walking—I never knew where—and I could not see. Darkness enveloped me, as if my eyes be disconnected from my brain. But I always continued to roam on in the cold, silent, lonely nothingness. It was involuntary. I only just had to walk, as if I were waiting for something... needed to gather the intangible feeling.
It took me a long while of roaming to decide I needed to rest. I would sit down and stare out into the distance. Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven... on the thirty-eighth second of gazing into gloominess a misty, grey, faint figure loomed into view. It looked similar to a harsh cloud of smoke, but before I could fully realize what the object be, it briskly evaporated.
And suddenly, a set of dagger-like teeth began to tear into the flesh in the spinal column of my calve. It was gnawing into my muscles, snapping my tendon, slurping my skin.
I could surface the severing pain, like someone was slicing my right leg next to a saw. I could feel the blood flowing out of me. I could hear the disgusting crunching noises. I could feel the vivid desire to flee.
I be forcefully indifferent, it was an indispensable act. I had no self control over my travels. But my body was frozen, I couldn't scream or fall or retaliate, lately let the carnivorous creature devour me. I just stopped caring. It be agonizing, yes, but I'd been through it numerous times, and eventually stopped trying to revive myself from the horrid dream.
Before long though, someone usually came to rescue me.
"Enough!," the man would yell.
I hear the monstrous creature devouring my leg squeal in misery, like a dog, and the pain vanished. Then the guy come into view—or whatever he was. His face frame be skeletal, I was sure he hadn't eaten for awhile. The skin covering it was wan, and had an ill looking texture to it with wrinkles. His eyes be a fluorescent grey, shining brightly in the dim light—and extremely bloodshot. This man wasn't human-like. This man was dangerous. Yet still I could not move.
"Ha ha ha ha ha. My apologies, miss," He said flashing me a menacing, revolting, smile. His teeth be triangles and severely pointed. They were brown with decay. Also red—from blood.
He laugh again, flashing me his teeth, "It's my turn now," he said.
And before I knew it, he bit into afterwards base of my throat, and started to feed upon it, too.
That's when I usually woke up.
Answers:
There are many books out here with the same idea.
I judge it's OK, but don't suggest that you try publishing it, since many books are written each year and many deal in less than a hundred copies, since the publishers get most of the money your book makes, you are moved out with the rest which isn't much at all. You can do writing as a hobby, but keep your morning job.
Related Questions:
What generous of poetic devices does the Author use and how is it used it surrounded by nouns beside the unbroken poem?
Still I RiseYou may write me down in historyWith your bitter, twisted lies,You may trod me in the very dirtBut still, close to dust, I'll rise.Does my sassiness upset you?Why are you beset with gloom?'Cause I walk close to I've...
What are some apposite mystery books?
thank you for answering. please write down where to get the book(s). All the Nancy Drew books. It's a series. And you can obtain the books at the library or at any book stores.but don't get tricked by books like these, http://www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/images¡ the ones i'm chitchat about look like these, http://images.evalu8.org/images/The-Nanc¡ http://www.fredflare.com/diary/nancy12/n¡ also, the...