Prologue to My Novel

Note: This is an old draft of the prologue. There have been a number of changes made, and there is much more written beyond then. Even so, I appreciate any feedback people may have. Seriously, leave me feedback.

Back from hiatus! Sort of, anyway. I said I’d keep you updated on the progress on my book, and I’ve decided to take it a step further and post the entire prologue for you all to read. Granted “the entire prologue” is only a page and a half at 1½ spacing, but it took three weeks and a ton of revisions (With a lot of help from SoldierHawk’s English major proofreading skills!) to get it polished to this point. The book has no title yet, because I suck at titles (As made evident by many of my blog entry titles), but for anyone interested, the working title is “The Gospel According to Jeebus”.

If there was ever a time I needed feedback from my readers, this is it. The question I pose to you for you to consider after reading this prologue is simply: “Would you read on?”

Also, at one point you’ll notice that there’s something the protagonst doesn’t know the word for, which is because, despite researching it, I can’t find the word for it. If anyone knows what it’s called, PLEASE e-mail me and let me know. Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read my work, and I really hope you all enjoy it!


Imagine feeling the pain of your skull fracturing as you lean into a haymaker punch delivered by a champion boxer while your best friend of over twenty years whispers in your ear that he just finished fucking your fiancé. Suffering the combined magnitude of all that physical and emotional pain at once would be enough to traumatize even the strongest of men, a description which I fall embarrassingly short of. And yet, as I stand here motionless with eyes transfixed on the scene around me, I long to feel that level of pain. I’m not a masochist or mentally unstable; I would simply welcome such pain as a reprieve from the torment I’m experiencing as I stare out at the horror before me.

The sky is tinted a brilliant reddish hue reminiscent of a sunset, though dusk isn’t for several hours to come. The ground bears a similar color and, at a glance, appears to be moving. I try not to keep my mind from telling me why the ground would look that way as though I can somehow wish this all away; it isn’t working. As my socks begin to soak through, I am forced to acknowledge reality. My stomach begins to turn violently as the rising blood reminds me of the pervasive stenches of death, smoke, and sulfur.

Above the din of a futile and nearly concluded battle, I hear something plummeting through the sky towards me. I take a couple steps back and avoid being hit by a lifeless body, though it collides with the Earth with such force that a few drops of blood splatter across my face. There’s no way of knowing whether the blood, now slowly dripping down my cheeks, belonged to the creature before me or whether it simply splashed up from the ground. It doesn’t really matter. Perhaps I can take solace in the fact that the blood can be labeled simply as “not mine,” but, given the circumstances, I find little comfort in that notion. As gruesome a scene as this is, I find myself unable to resist the temptation to examine the body closer. After all, I’ve never seen one of these up close.

The deceased landed with its back to me, and from here I can see that it has a large, muscular frame, like it was designed for war. It is wearing a thin, cloth shirt under a massive, sleeveless breastplate. The plate is covered with dents that look as though they were inflicted before its fall. Instead of pants, it wore what, as a layman, I can only describe as some sort of battle skirt. Protruding from the creature’s back are two magnificent wings, like those of an eagle. I step forward and place my hand on its arm in the desperate hope that it may still be alive. My view had previously been obstructed by the wings, but as I place my hand on the lifeless body, it rolls onto its back allowing me my first glimpse above the creature’s torso. The sudden movement surprises me, and I quickly take a step back expecting the creature to move again. As the panic fades and I take another look, I realize that when God created angels, He probably gave them heads. That certainly explains the angel’s sudden, uncontrolled plummet. I only wish this angel had been the lone casualty of God’s forces.

Looking back out along the horizon, I see similar scenes all around me. While only hours ago the skies seemed to be swarming with righteousness, now the ground is littered with the fallen ranks of angels and men alike. Monstrous, horned creatures rip the few remaining angels out of the sky and eviscerate them, feasting on the sanguine stream that pours from the bodies with a look of indifference and almost boredom on their faces. I watch with horror and disbelief as the Hell beasts snarl and devour everything in their path. I want to cry or scream or maybe even fight back in spite of the futility, but I can do nothing. I have bore witness to the fall of humanity, and the pain is so intense it’s a wonder I can even stand.

The day of the Apocalypse has come. God has all but lost. And it’s all. My. Fault.

© 2009 by Dr. Jeebus


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