HH Com 513

A powerful gust of wind nearly knocked Terah off his feet as he made his way through the gardens, back toward the shelter of the Azure Palace. Rain fell sideways in waving sheets, mixed with stinging bits of flying sand and grit that pelted Terah’s face, making it hard for him to see. Lightning, spawned from the approaching storm, writhed across the sky above the churning ocean, but if there was thunder he couldn’t hear it over the screaming wind.
Terah squinted up at the ominous black sky, tinged with green. The roiling storm clouds covered the sky from horizon to horizon, and the sight made him catch his breath in renewed terror. This storm, so hard on the heels of the others, was the largest he had ever seen in his young life. There was no longer any doubt in his mind; it would soon engulf their tiny island nation of Ismay—unless Jasem and the other mages could hold it back.

‘Can they shield Ismay from the scythe winds again?’ he thought. ‘They are at the end of their endurance. We all are.’

Leaves, still green, ripped from trees and bushes to fly through the air like crazed birds. Terah stuffed the thin silver map case he had been ordered to fetch into his shirt, afraid the wind would yank it out of his hand and blow it away. If that happened, it could only make the impending disaster worse.

Need to use up your stock of descriptions before the expiration date?
This isn't a hook. It's a first page.
It's top heavy with description that is distracting rather than illuminating.
Here's a couple verbs: stop. start over.


Anonymous said...

I began reading a few books that begun this way, I never finished them.

Yeah, many actually made it to print.

You never know yours can too if read by an editor who likes these kind of novels.

batgirl said...

Is it just me, or does this read remarkably like the opening of Paul Clifford, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton?

xiqay said...

Batgirl, you're right.

"It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness."

--Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford (1830)

Check out the writing contest at http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/