The boy, scrambling madly through the briars, screamed as one branch caught against his throat and began to wend its way around his neck. He tore it off with his left hand, in a panic, but before he could escape the bush's clutches two more branches had already wound themselves about his waist. Now frantic, the boy pulled forward with all his might, temporarily forgetting the pain in his left thigh and the terrible agony where his right hand used to be. Suddenly he was free of the bushes, as the branches gave with a loud SNAP!, and he found himself face-to-face with a large, stone wall, colored gray-green with moss and lichen. Eyes wide with fear, the boy turned around to meet his snarling fate, which was now crashing through the murderous briar bushes he himself had just escaped from. For the first and last time in his life, the boy was sure he was going to die.1
Author notes
If I do decide to write more, the reader will find out what exactly's going on, how the boy (he's about 12 or 13, by the way) lost his hand, etc. Oh, and he doesn't die.
Should I continue on?
Comments
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Yes
But let the story unfold slowly. Don't give away too much too quickly. The unanswered questions in your prologue are the things holding my interest. -
I Want More!!!!
I loved it but as im sure u can guess i want more!!
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