The Island Curse

Revisions Sneak Peek: Prologue

Here's a glimpse of some changes coming to this story. One thing I struggled with as I wrote the story was the Curse itself. It needed to be strong enough to motivate the people to a willingness to sacrifice Isla, but over the course of the story, it became a bit too convoluted. I think I finally have that figured out (once I gave up on a piece of the story I held onto for far too long). I also didn't like how often the characters had to TELL the story so I thought a prologue would be best to set the stage and show the readers. 

If you're here, it means you've likely finished the story so you know what's going on, but I intentionally left out most of the names to set it up as a mystery. You'll also sense some big changes coming to this story, and while I know many of you have asked me for a sequel, I just have to fix these issues before starting the next part. 

There's still some work to be done to make sure it's clear who is speaking and such, but hey... it's a first draft. Let me know what you think!

Through the woods she ran- an untamed creature with a curly raven mane and moon dappled skin. Thick lashes framed wide, mossy eyes, and her generous lips parted as she panted. It would be easy to mistake her for a frightened creature of myth, some forest fairy or nymph- especially, on this island where magic lingered in mists and crested with ocean waves- but she was nothing more than a human girl who found herself in the wrong place.

A root growing above the rocky soil snagged her foot, pitching her headlong into a mess of brambles. Thorns ripped her thin, white shift and bit into her skin. Rivulets of blood ran down her arms, looped her wrists, and joined the dried blood on her hands. She freed herself and crawled a few feet before stopping to catch her breath.

Her stained hands shook as she held them high to catch the moonlight breaking through the light spring canopy. Had it really been just days ago that she'd laid beneath these same branches, admiring their pink budded tips from the safety of his arms? A finger went to her ear and caressed the shell as if she hoped to find it warm from his whispered declaration of love. All she felt was cold skin, and all that remained when she drew away was a slash of wet red on alabaster.

She opened her mouth to speak, but all that fell from her lips was a keen wail that rattled the trees and scattered the creeping night beasts. Unable to stay upright, she pressed her face into the damp earth and prayed it would muffle the cries she could no longer contain. They rolled through her slight frame like thunder across the cliffs, the tears falling from her cheeks greater than any torrents of rain that ever fell on the island.

When she calmed enough to lift her head, she heard the baying of the dogs in the east, and the first bit of frost hardened on her heart.

"I should have slit her throat as well," she said, rising in fluid motion.

She had no doubt his wife called the authorities. The perfect princess slept through it all, even as her marriage bed grew cold. Only when she jostled him in her attempt to staunch the blood flow and broke the silence with her mumbled pleas for him to wake did the bride open her eyes.

They stared at one another- spurned lover and honorable wife, best friends turned to fearsome foes- but it was not terror that filled his wife's eyes when she pointed the knife at her, promising she would be next if she so much as made a sound. It was pity, and it was so much worse than being feared.

Running again, she continued in the same direction as before, despite knowing she could not escape. She'd always known there would be no escape, at least not alone, but she never meant this journey to be taken alone. The witch promised her. She reached the top of the cliff, knowing before she looked down that the ship was missing.