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This is now the Prologue. Chapter One: Day Zero follows it and is up on the site already, so please check it out. I’ll credit you quickly.
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Action Adventure / Relatively Superhuman: Chapter 1- UNUSUAL ABILITIES (Version 2)
Of course, my worldview had been violently altered many times before. After each of them I prayed, I wished, even dared to believe it was the last time, while knowing deep down that my optimism was wasted.
That morning though, after I killed the love of my life, I didn’t pray, wish, or believe anything. Not in defiance of any higher power, it was just that in those few seconds after it happened, I was busy becoming a different person. This is what happens when you realise that the unscheduled changes that occurred in your life up to that point, were mere stun grenade explosions. Their effects couldn’t compare with the far-reaching destruction caused by the H Bomb now dropped in your path. It was only to be expected then that the usual stock responses wouldn’t feel sufficient.
I had just asked Ellie to marry me. She then collapsed and died.
I had no idea why.
The sound of her impact on a loose plank bounced off the gallery’s white walls. The echo diminished quickly, matching her heart’s final beats. And they were final; there was no doubting it. I had inside information, so to speak.
Ellie ended face up on the ebony floor with that amazing red silk dress draped around her like carefully poured blood. Her arms were sprawled out as if presenting a final desperate question: Why, Lukas? Why would you do this to me?
I didn’t have an answer. Instead I juddered on the spot erratically, like a determined jackhammer supplied with too little power. Too little, because most of that power had transferred itself to my brain, where images, scenarios and questions fought for prominence. Why has this happened? Because Ellie chose a black man, her mother will claim. What did I do wrong? All those immoral things that brought you both to this previously happy period, my conscience replied. How will I carry on? Aging rapidly, growing bitter and atheistic, reckoned the image in my mind.
Though shaking like mad I couldn’t move voluntarily, not even to crouch beside her. My heart tried to explode from my ribcage hundreds of times per minute. Head: burning, and tight. Air: insufficient. And the light, reflecting off the snow, poured through the huge windows and seemed to sear my optic nerves.
Her eyes still sparkled like emeralds, though fixed on one spot. Mine were fixed too, on her. In fact we seemed suspended in resin together, like those sculptures of hers on the line of white plinths that I juddered―and she lay―in the middle of.
I managed to issue a clear thought from the midst of this turmoil: Pull yourself out of this. Do something.
We were alone in the gallery, and for three kilometres in every direction, locked in by southern France’s snowfall. We'd never seen the point in extending the phone line from the farmhouse, where my mobile phone presently lay on the oak dining table. I only then thought to run and grab it. What would they tell me anyway?
“Monsieur, vous devez la réanimer...”
Of course: resuscitation.
This helped to pull me out of shock. I fell beside her and planted my hands on her chest.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five...
The memories of all the times I’d killed before had been blurred for years: not altogether gone, of course, just blurred. It was as if I saw them through someone else’s eyes. I’d distracted myself that well. But the memory of this murder would never fade, even if it wasn’t intentional.
Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen...
After all, how could I forget the stark contrast of the interlocked fingers of my Negro hands pumping her pale chest?
Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Twenty-Six...
“Come on, Baby!”
Or the constant injections of fear at the possibility of cracking her fragile ribcage under my muscular weight?
Thirty. One. Two. Three...
Or that sickening sensation―loss, they called it―already rising in me like lava, while she grew cooler by the second?
Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve...
“Come back, Ellie! Come back!”
Something else I’d never forget, whether she came back to me or not, was the nasty systemic sensation she experienced at the moment she died―because I felt it too.
When she breezed into the gallery ten minutes earlier, her sweet perfume washed over me. In turn, my radius―an acute type of empathy―spread over her like a ripple in a pond, but invisibly. It was normal for it to replicate in my body the internal sensations of any living human being nearby. So, after she collapsed, my radius told me in no uncertain terms that the love of my life was dead. I felt it.
I kept at the compressions with a tempered franticness, although what little hope I had at the start had dwindled away to almost nothing. Arms stiff over her, conduits for my will, powered by constant, barely controlled infusions of fear and panic.
I remembered a similar panic from a year earlier, when she was waiting for me there at the farm in France, and I was trapped in Moscow thinking I would never see her again. I finally slipped out of the grip of the Russian security service and joined her in France. That was when I gave her the red silk dress as a present. The moment when she unwrapped it remained clear in my mind:
“Lukas, Baby, it’s so beautiful! I love it! Can I save it for a special occasion?”
Now, as her red-dressed corpse lay in front of me, minutes after I initiated the ultimate special occasion, I didn’t appreciate the irony.
My head spun from a strange combination of exertion and restraint while still trying to resuscitate her. An article I'd stumbled on at some point said that mouth-to-mouth was no longer in vogue in the medical world, just compressions, but still a selfish part of me wanted so badly to steal one last warm kiss. I felt annoyed with myself when I realised what that desire to kiss her really meant: it meant I was accepting that she was gone for good.
My version of her final pain hadn’t gone though. It still lingered in my chest and spine. It had spread from her to me like blood in water, then seeped deep into my marrow, cold and stubborn.
It didn't take my unique empathy to realise that the chest compressions weren’t working, so the panic I'd been warding off with over-analysis came to the fore. I stood up and spun around unsteadily, searching desperately for a miracle in the black rafters, in the whitewashed bricks and the huge sash windows. There had to be one. That was what we were about after all: unusual abilities.
Evidence of hers sat on those white plinths silently judging me. Sixteen sculptures in total. Eight of them in a line stretching away on either side of us, evenly spaced along the narrow high-ceilinged room. Those on the right were reasonably traditional, of wildlife from the local countryside. They were rendered in a unique impressionistic style. London’s National Portrait Gallery liked them so much that they granted her an exhibition of her human works eighteen months earlier. The remaining sculptures on the left weren’t of anything she had discovered on our farm though, they weren’t of anything she ever planned to exhibit either. She had only seen these ones in her head.
Global disasters of all kinds had come to her in the space between wakefulness and dreams, weeks, months, sometimes years in advance of their real-time occurrences. She had rendered these ones in the more enduring materials of steel, iron or bronze, not clay like the others. Airplanes, crashed into numerous edifices, both accidentally and intentionally. Blue-tinted resin, representing the sea, swamping tectonic plates and land masses of steel or iron. Blocks of resin cleverly capturing various explosions halfway through.
There was an odd one too, a small bronze, simple, of a couple sitting on a floor facing and holding each other tenderly.
I loved all of her work…normally, but right then they made me sick. Why couldn't clairvoyants ever foresee their own deaths? I hated clichés. How was it fair that after nearly twenty years of searching she finally finds me, then for this to happen eighteen months later? I hated tragedies too. And what was the point in my being trained to protect and to kill, and to instinctively know which of the two was required at any given moment, only for me to do this to the person that's closest to me? I added irony to the shit-list.
I crouched, sat, then slid back on the polished ebony floor until my backbone butted the brick wall. Shivering, and racked with confusion and guilt, I asked myself the same question over and over: how could I have killed my fiancée...just by asking her to marry me? Not by a bullet to the head, or a blade jabbed into the neck at a deep downward angle, or sharply twisting the head too far. No. Just by speaking to her.
My gaze landed on the small bronze again, of the two figures sitting embracing each other. This time I didn’t miss the sign: we had never sat on the floor embracing each other like that. Not once.
It could only mean one thing: there was a way to bring her back.
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DecoyarBrown reviewed Version 4 -
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Not bad, I kind of drew closer to the narrator. You put alot of words in his thought, and I like his ambition, A man who killed his fiance’ with his words, now that’s hot.
You have a little grammar but no big deal I wasn’t really reading it to pick it apart, I was reading it for the story. Here is one;
‘Instead I juddered on the spot erratically, like a determined jackhammer supplied with too little power.’
You don’t have to put ‘determine’ in past tense because it is an expression to someone.
also;
‘The moment when she unwrapped it remained clear in my mind’
you should have put, ‘The moment when she unwrapped it, it remained clear in my mind,’
but like i said i wasn’t reading it for grammar. You have a lot of potential here, I would love to see where it goes. You kind of lost me in the middle but then you brought me to the light after you told us that he killed is fiance’ with is words. keep it up.
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deon0608 reviewed Version 4 -
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Closer to the end, it really does enthrall the reader and I won’t contest that I would certainly like to read further, so well done on capturing the initial reader into the story. But, in the first half I would like to see it more structured in the sense that one can really feel the pain, at the moment you are definitely telling us of the pain but the reader cannot associate with the character, the story motions between, him having killed her, loved her(marry) and then him wanting to re-animate her.
Maybe try building up to the event of her death, giving a bit of exposition of where they are so that the reader can at first create the world and environment that it takes place in, use sounds, weather and various other triggers to create the mood. Maybe enlighten us to a previous ‘murder’ and the blood curdling feeling of it, and then shift to the present where he has in fact killed his lover. Illustrate the shock by maybe saying he paced around, not just mentioning that he ‘juddered’, try painting the scene and not just stating it. Overall with a bit of revision it could serve as a very good foundation to an interesting plot/story. Thank you and good luck.
cursorblock reviewed Version 4 -
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I really enjoyed this. You do a great job with detail and showing action. I especially like how you weaved some background into this highly intense scene in a believable way. Your descriptions are good as well especially the intro of her in the blood red dress.
You place us right in the thick of it from the get go and force us to pay attention to every detail as it unfolds.
I like the idea of people with ‘abilities’ that they can’t fully control. They appear to be more of a curse than a blessing and they create great conflict in their lives. Nice touch with showing her power as well.
There are a few minor places between the scene and backstory where it seems a little dis-jointed. Smoothing some of these transitions shouldn’t take much for someone of your talent. You do a great job of keeping us turning the page, ending the chapter with something so tantilizing that we have to move on to chapter 2. Thanks for posting.
Rhonda9080 reviewed Version 4 -
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Hi-okay, first off, I love your opening sentence! It is the reason I chose this as my first review on this site.
*It was only to be expected then that the usual stock responses wouldn’t feel sufficient. (could it read – wouldn’t suffice?) This sentence (could be just me. Its a little awkward and wordy. This is a problem I am well-acquainted with in my own work (which I hope you may choose to review).
Now, it reads well, but by page two I am wanting an explanation for why this has happened. I know this is what you want—to string the reader along, but can we have a little more? Even if its just some little teasers and foreshadowing?
Juddered… is that a word? Is this a sculpting term? Anyway to explain unobtrusively for us ignorant folk? I am writing a book set in Beirut, Lebanon, so I get into a lot of this with the culture and language—whew! No easy task!
Please note: Man, I do love your writing style! It is fresh and immediate in many places, but watch getting too vague trying to string the reader along (one of my big sins too).
Okay—don’t like “negro hands” either. Maybe a descriptive term here like mahogany or dark, or black or ebony? Or is the race angle important here later in the story? The novel I’m working on does require laying some groundwork like this too (character is Arab and has some ambivalence about it). If so, I think I would prefer something like “black” or “my black man’s hands” we get the same undertones or race-mixing, and all it implies, without the awkwardness of an old-fashioned term like “negro” mixed in with a style that is basically fresh and innovative.
I like the way you are using the numbered counts…
I finally slipped out of the grip of the Russian security service and joined her in France. That was when I gave her the red silk dress as a present. The moment when she unwrapped it remained clear in my mind:
“Lukas, Baby, it’s so beautiful! I love it! Can I save it for a special occasion?”
Can we have more of a flashback here, either or Ellie or of Russian experience? Nothing lengthy, but maybe a bit more than just the dress? Does he remember the way her eyes looked, the fear of escape, something just a bit more?
*Could this sequence go a little sooner in the story:
I loved all of her work…normally, but right then they made me sick. Why couldn’t clairvoyants ever foresee their own deaths? (powerful and intriguing).
It might even work in the first paragraph somewhere…It gives us insight into Ellie and makes us curious and makes us care.
I like this:
It could only mean one thing: there was a way to bring her back.
Does this end the chapter? I would turn the page!
Now, I have a rather goofy suggestion, and you may hate it, but it worked for my novel which opens with a mystery character. Any thought of a prologue that would foreshadow the reason for this strange occurrence/ability? Time in Russian, something they did to him there? Any strange abilities that would clue him in thinking back on why this might have occurred?
Now please do take all of this with a grain of salt as you are the writer and know (sometimes only vaguely if you’re like me) where you are headed with all this. Race angle? Could be foreshadowed in a prologue as well…
I love your writing style completely, but you might be keeping us in too much suspense.
Please take this to heart: this is my first time on this site, but I did chose your work to review because it grabbed me :)
Write on dude!
Please consider reviewing my novel as well. I have a first chapter that my (or may not need the tar chopped out of it). Can’t tell. I’m on chapter 22 and stil can’t decide. One reason I came to this site.
Blessings!
Rhonda
hypatia reviewed Version 4 -
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You have the ability to bring your words to life. The rich powerful imagery takes a poetic slant as your words flow easily through my mind. You have created a piece of work that asks many questions from the reader. The attachment to the characters is instant. In my mind this piece covers all the angles and I hope to read more from you. It does not have the feel of a seasoned writer with regard to usual sentence structure but then this is not a hindrance Dean Kootz has been slated for not being ‘correct’ but he is successful.
I am not an X-Men fan but I like this a lot, it has all the pazzaz but feels rooted in a more realistic world. Your talent shines beacause of your bold imagery.
Lillie_M reviewed Version 4 -
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middle of. – maybe: middle of it
From what I could tell, technically your work was spot on.
I like the mystery of the story so far. So he can kill people and she can see into the future you have a good base to build on. Ther’s potential for a lot of dramatic events.
You described her well but I didn’t know how he looked. Other than that he was heavier than her. I did wonder about your choice of the word negro. It’s only my personal opinion but I don’t like that word. I prefer black or carribean or african. Of course it’s down to the writer.
I am intriqued in how they have their powers and I would be interested to know more. It didn’t feel much like an Action Adventure but I presume that will come more later.
You seen to have a problem with the formatting, which could be Urbis’s fault but it something to have a look at because it can interrupt the flow of your pice, which was very good other than that.
Overall I think it’s a good piece and I would definitely read more.
maggers_ann reviewed Version 4 -
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I really really like this! I loved how you seeped in only a little bit of information at a time so that it kept me reading to see you he had killed his wife. This verison is grammatically flawless (I was really into it, so I might have missed something) and I thought that you didn’t over-kill on being discriptive. There was just one sentence that I think sort of ruined the flow towards the end:
“I hated tragedies too. And what was the point in my being trained to protect and to kill, and to instinctively know which of the two was required at any given moment, only for me to do this to the person that’s closest to me? I added irony to the shit-list.” -I don’t think it’s necessary to put ‘I added irony to the shit-list’, especially after something that was so intense and well written. That was the one part that I thought felt a little choppy.
Overall, I’m impressed. I’ll be looking back for more soon!
OresteseViera reviewed Version 4 -
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Wow. This is incredible. It had me hanging on the whole time. You used Italics very well too. I’m confused though. How exactly can Lukas kill Ellie if he’s an empath?
The ending to this chapter is also good because it leads to a story that can be intriguing and engaging.
I noticed you spelled realise differently. Usually its spelled realize. It’s not technically wrong, but people don’t really spell it that way anymore.
All in all, this is engaging, but it doesn’t really branch out efficiently.
Is this just an introduction? If this is a first chapter, it doesn’t really work well as one.
I liked this, and I look forward to reading more of your work.
icomeanon reviewed Version 4 -
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Very interesting use of flashbacks during the attempted rescue. The way you fail to explain how Lucas’ power works keeps the audience interested and pleading for more.
I would revise the phrase “these ones” into a little more sophisticated terminology, however. Such as, “the ones standing silently around us”...
I was a little disappointed with the emotional reaction of Lucas. He’s feeling like a total idiot, yes, but what about his desire to hold her? If he was going to marry her, wouldn’t he love her enough to be racked with sobs? I think the reaction is okay if you are able to convey the stoicism of his character, but at the moment, it doesn’t feel as real as it could.
Otherwise, I am definitely interested in reading the next chapter. Good suspense and way to go on “killing the sheriff” on the first page! Keep it going!
FleaTheElf reviewed Version 4 -
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occurred in your life up to that point, were mere stun grenade explosions – you don’t need that comma
so far you’ve hooked me up with just the first 2 paragraphs, mentioning killing the love of your life is a great hook (morbid as though that might seem)
juddered? – not sure the meaning of this word
Her eyes still sparkled like emeralds, though fixed on one spot. – I like this sentence a lot, nice imagery, very morbidly poetic
Well, I found zero spelling mistakes and very few grammar issues, great job there (I have much more appreciation when a writer puts this much care into his or her work).
Overall, I found the opening chapter very intriguing. I would love to know more about both of their powers, where they came from, what they’re going to do, if there’s a way for him to bring her back to life. I’m sure all of these questions and more are answered as the story progresses.
The only complaint I have is that some of the sentences seemed a bit overcomplicated for my tastes. That might make me sound a bit simpleminded but I had to re-read some a few times and I think there were simpler ways of wording your characters thought. Colorful phrasing in moderation gives a word its flair; doing this too much can make the story seem a bit convoluted.
But overall you’ve done a great job and I look forward to reading more.
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