In a previous post I went through and wrote about the arguement of having a prologue. I think there are some writers who would prefer to stay away from a prologue and for good reason. My writing contains two different stories that I will weave together. At some point down the road, they will meet. This second story is where I start the prologue. I feel it fits well and will work. I am going to keep a prologue. You can look at the following link: Is a Prologue helpful? You can also compare my first draft of my prologue, back at that link, to what is below. This is my current prologue as it sits. I also entered this prologue with my first chapter into the Pikes Peak Writing Competition. Please feel free to edit or give me some feedback!!!
Thirteen brave soldiers remained, determined to finish what was started six weeks ago. Twenty-two soldiers agreed to join this expedition. Another twenty slaves also have accompanied them along the journey, eight of which have already died already. Three weeks ago was the most deadly single day since they started exploring. They found a very promising crevasse in a dry desert canyon. Crumbling sediment from the upper portion had fallen, killing five soldiers and three slaves.
The only thing worse than death, is that reality that absolutely nothing has been found on their entire campaign. Rotting flesh and stench overpowered them soon thereafter and they were forced to leave and try somewhere new. Moral worsened as additional soldiers have and slaves have been killed. An attack began two weeks ago while visiting a small village. The group was flanked on both sides by a hidden enemy but they held their ground admirably. The cost of that battle was another two soldiers. Finally their attackers burnt the small town to ash. They hadn’t bought enough water and it had been days without food.
Slaves began attempting to flee in the middle of the night, only to be chased and dragged back to the camp. The weather had been increasingly difficult with sun glaring down on the group. Twelve hours of sunlight with blistering winds followed by freezing nights. Entering the mountain region the temperatures have become even worse. This morning though, hope has been restored. The land they are traveling in is a match to the prophecy on the cloth. They no longer feel directionless. Even the slaves are working harder; their hope is that these are the last days of confinement. It is just a matter of time.
“Just up ahead,” insisted the leader with a heavy, thick foreign accent.
“Forty days has been hell out here.” replied one of the soldiers.
“Shut up soldier, we’re almost there. Be on the observation, this is the last region in these mountains. It has got to be here.”
“Sir, what if success eludes us again?” asked the youngest soldier.
“It will not, I am sure of it. My master, our master demands us to succeed. It is our only option. Ethnic, racial and world domination will be paved before our footsteps.”
Several additional steps are taken in silence as they move higher and higher in altitude. Thirty-five hundred feet soon changes to five thousand feet. There is a semi-worn path that is before them.