All right everyone, I need your help. I started writing my book in November, I wrote over 50,000 words in one month and since then I’ve been struggling to finish this thing. I love this story and where it’s going. Just need some motivation and some editing help. If you’d like to join me in my journey to complete my book please read it for me. I’ll try to post regularly. Please tell me what you think, what you like, what you don’t like, where you want the story to go and point out spelling/grammar mistakes. Here is the prologue to get us going.
The Soul Sorter
Pain raced through my body. Soft light touched my eyes and I tried to pry my eyelids open. All I wanted to do was lay there. My veins felt as if fire was racing through them. I could no longer keep my eyes closed and they hesitantly opened to the dim room. The room smelled musty and dust gleamed in the rays of light streaming through the window. The room was dark and cluttered. It was small but seemed well cared for.
“I wondered when you would wake up.” An old gruff voice spoke in the chair next to me. I hadn’t noticed him there while I was looking over the room. “Was your trip pleasant?”
My trip? From where? It was painful, I remembered that. Excruciating. But I was here and I couldn’t be happier. It was all so confusing though, where was I? Who was I? I remembered my name, Enaid, nothing else was coming to my memory though. I couldn’t tell him all these thoughts. Something told me I had to lie.
“It was pleasant.” My voice scraped through my throat.
“Good, you’ve been here for a few days now. You should be going soon. He’ll be looking for you.”
Who was he? Why couldn’t I remember anything? The man rose from the chair the floor creaking under his large berth. He was older, in well-worn clothes. He shuffled across the room to what looked like the kitchen. A fire burned in a hearth with a pot over the flames. Steam rose from the pot and my mouth watered. Hungry, I was feeling hungry. That’s what the word for the sensation was. I felt rejuvenated by the naming of the feeling. But why would I feel happy about identifying a feeling? Hadn’t I felt hungry before? The questions swirled in my mind.
“You’ve been sleeping the whole time. I wondered if you would ever wake up. Must have been a difficult trip. Can’t imagine how you even made it. Not something I would want to do. Listen to me rambling on. You’re probably hungry. I’ve had some soup going in case you woke up today.” He mumbled to himself as he rummaged around the kitchen for a bowl. He took a wooden bowl from under a stack of wood plates. He inspected it with the light coming in through the windows. Wiping it out with his hand. Shrugging his shoulders he walked the few steps to the hearth, took down a spoon hanging from a hook by the pot. He stirred the soup and carefully ladled the soup in the bowl. He shuffled back across the room and sat in the wooden chair. I tried to sit up in the bed but struggled. I had no strength.
“Let me help.” He set the bowl down on a small table near the bed. He reached under my arms and pulled me into a sitting position, leaning against the wall behind him. I was surprised by the strength he had. The old man seemed to put on his feebleness as an act. “Now eat this all up and you can sleep some more. I’m sure you’re body needs to adjust.” He spooned the hot soup into my mouth. The flavors exploded in my mouth. I had never tasted something so wonderful and then I wondered if I had ever tasted anything before. But that thought was so obscure I scoffed at myself. The soup eased down my raw throat and soothed it. It warmed my from the inside out and my body seemed to crave the sustenance.
“You’re doing fine.” He said after I had eaten most of the bowl. The soup warmed my limbs bringing some life into them, strength coursed through me as never before. “Sleep.” The old man said. I wanted to jump out of bed and enjoy the feeling of being alive instead of settle into the bed and sleep. “You may not feel like it but you need your rest.” It was as if he read my mind and he helped my lay flat on the bed again. “It’s good to see you again old friend.”
I puzzled over his words. How could I be his old friend. I felt young and alive. Nothing like the way he looked. Not able to make any sense of his words I gazed at the wood planked walls and traced the grain of the wood with my eyes. I lifted a hand and felt the rough wood prickle under my fingers. It felt good to be alive. I reveled in the feeling of air coming in and out of my body. A smile spread on my thin lips, joy filled me. I had made it. Although I still wasn’t sure where I had made it to but the overwhelming sense that I had escaped filled me.
I must have fallen asleep sometime after. Hands gripped my shoulders as they jostled me out of my slumber. “Wake up.” My eyes opened to a dark room only lit by the embers of the hearth. The old man stood over me, fear written on his face. “You have to go. He’s looking for you.” Dread clenched my stomach. He was here already? How had he found me so quickly? Who was he?
“No time to explain, if you want to live you have to leave now.” He was shoving things in a pack, racing around the room. I sat up on the bed swinging my legs over the edge. I wore a white night shift that only went to my knees. My white legs glowed in the low light, had I ever seen my legs before? I touched my toes to the wood floor, feeling the soft wood beneath my feet. Slowly I put weight on my feet. For some reason I felt like this was the first time I had walked. I must have taken those first steps years ago, why couldn’t I remember hearing about them then? I stood on my legs and was surprised by the strength in them. They supported my body as I gingerly walked a few steps to the kitchen table.
“Put this on.” He thrust a brown dress at me. He turned his back taken by some other thought of what to put in the pack. I pulled off the shift and looked down at my pale body. This was me. This was my body. I couldn’t help but feel joy in that thought. I marveled at how wonderful it was. The brown dress was rough on my skin.
“Where will I go?”
“Go to the city, the castle. Stay where there are a lot of people. It will be more difficult for him to find you there.” I shook my head understanding what he was saying but wondering why more people would make it more difficult to find me. It was as if the subconscious part of me knew what needed to be done but when I tried to grasp the thought it would slip through the cracks and disappear. He was muttering again as I followed him around the small room. He turned suddenly and thrust the pack in my arms. He opened the door and pushed me out the door quietly shutting the door behind us. We walked through the dark forest path lit only by the sliver of the moon above us. The air was cold on my skin and I shivered. The pack in my arms was heavy stuffed to the brim hastily. Our breaths came out in puffs of white. The forest was hushed the only sound was our soft foot falls on the ground.
“You must go on from here.” The path veered off to the left and I lost sight of it only a few yards ahead due to the dark. “It will lead you to a road. Turn right on it and follow it to the castle. It should take you a day or two to get there depending on how quickly you walk.
“What will I do once I get there?” I wasn’t nervous to be out on my own. It seemed as if I had craved independence.
“Go to the castle, they let everyone in. Ask for assistance, they’ll help find something for you.” I nodded my head. “You need to go now.” He looked around at the dark trees surrounding us anxiously. I thought it had been quiet while we were walking but suddenly it became deathly still and the cold seemed to seem into my bones.
The old man looked into my eyes I could see the fear written there. “He’s here.” It was only a whisper but it sent chills through me. “Run.” He breathed out. “Run girl!”