inmaBM
21st November 2011, 10:41 AM
Hello!
I've written a book called "Join me in blood" and I'm a new author. I'm posting this because I just wanna now what you think about the first chapter of my book. I don't really know how to promote my book. I don't want you to spam, I want you to discuss about this first chapter...
I will post more in this forum because I love literaute and I'm very glad here right now
Thank you very much! It will take you just a few minutes!!
If you wanna now more, just ask me! Or type "Join me in blood" in google!
FIRST CHAPTER
Helsinki
He was running through those alleys, trying to lose them. It was at night, the full moon shone surrounded by an orange halo. Balo was wearing his opaque raincoat that went all the way to his feet; it was stained with blood that oozed from his right side, above his waist. He had his hand on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He saw the shadows that were chasing him thanks to the effect that the light of the lamps created. In a corner, he found another alley that took him to another one and there he saw a half-open wooden door. The atmosphere was sunless, but he could see everything in the darkness. Without thinking it, he opened the door, went in and closed it quickly in silence. Inside, he looked through an opening of the door and saw how those shadows went right past to disappear into the narrow streets.
Balo breathed a sight of relief and went in that sombre room, resting against the wall. Inside, there were a table and several wooden chairs. It looked like a kitchen, the dust on the furniture had been there for a long time. He let his tired body fall on the floor and looked at his wound, it looked serious.
'It was close', he thought.
He felt how his body was weakening.
'I just need to rest', he thought.
Through the curtains, the moon shone accompanied by the clouds that were trying to cover it. Balo looked at it, he loved the moon. He rested his head against the wall, his thick hair, that was almost sombre, with some rebellious, sweaty locks of the colour of wet earth, fell down his face, that was of the colour of paper. He had a turned-up nose, a broad forehead, generous lips of the colour of tomato, marked features and his eyes were of the colour of fresh leaves. He was very tall, he overtook 5.9 feet, and very slim. He couldn't keep his eyes open due to exhaustion.
'No!', he thought, 'there are just a couple of hours left to the dawn, I have to look for a shelter'.
He got up with pain, half-closing his eyes, holding on the wall and biting his lower lip with his canines because of the pain. It was hard to walk for him, but he went ahead and crossed a corridor where he saw the stairs leading to another floor and other corridors on the side that led to other rooms. He was walking ahead when he stepped on something empty. He lifted the carpet and found a trapdoor that led to the basement. He opened it.
'Fine!', he thought.
He went down the stairs, shut the trapdoor and looked for a corner on where he could lie down. He covered himself up with his raincoat and closed his eyes.
The time went by and Balo, whose eyes were half-open, was getting his strength back. He saw the sunlight through the openings of the trapdoor. It was far away from his cold body. He was watching how the light moved on the floor, diagonally across the room. In that moment, Balo remembered his childhood. He was a four or five-year-old boy and he was playing in the playground with other children his age in the broad daylight. He remembered how he looked at the sun, closed his eyes and even then he could still see the golden sphere with his eyes closed, engraved in his pupils.
'If only I could see the sun again', Balo thought.
The hours went by and, after the last ray of sunlight, in the twilight, Balo got up. His body was still recovering from the wound, he still felt weak. He knew he needed to eat to recover. He went up the stairs, opened the door and jumped to the first floor. He left the house and started walking in the sombre street.
He rose his head and, as a predator, he scented the air after whatever he could find around there. He smelt a small farm near a forest, away from the streets, and headed towards the house. As a hungry animal, he jumped and ran and, when he arrived there, he unlocked the railings. The animals screamed like they were overcome with an awful fear. He saw a cow at the back, he could smell its blood and listen the sound that the blood made when it move inside the body until it arrived at the heart, that beat with energy and speed, it was like it knew it wouldn't do that again...
Cebalon was driving his motorbike really fast in a deserted road close to the city. His motorbike was a Kawasaki Vulcan VN 1700 with 1700 c.c. twin-cylinder engine. He was wearing a cheerless raincoat of the colour of frogs that went all the way to his feet over a red suede shirt, cheerless suede trousers that matched with coarse boots with golden adornments. His face was the same colour as paper, his hair was tangled in rastas that were the same colour as straw and he put his hair into a ponytail. With his metal blue eyes, he looked at every detail of the city.
'I should hurry up', he thought, 'No-deads will get up at midnight, I have to find him.'
Balo went out of the stable wiping the blood he had on his lips with his hands. His eyes were as red as blood and his canine were sharp. He closed his eyes and his mouth and, when he opened them again, he had already recovered his usual colour. He walked through the streets of the city like a wandering soul. The gelid air was like a cloak accompanied by the mist that enveloped its streets, that would never leave him. The cold did not affect Balo anymore, he was used to its company as if it were a faithful friend. He climbed onto the roof of one of the houses. The moon was covered by a tomato halo, it was more intense than the night before. He took out a parchment and an ink pen of his cheerless cloak. Looking to the north, he could see the remote mountains that were covered by ice, and he started to write:
In this cold night nothing is the same.
The world is empty since your arms are not with me and my heart cannot resist it anymore.
I feel an immense misery and a great pain that does not let me continue.
The pain does not let me come closer to your sepulchre, only my tears are with you.
I so wish to meet you up again, you and me, two souls that escape from this heartless world and that meet again in the death due to the promise of our sacred sacrament of love.
I hope to die to be able to hold you in my arms again or to live hoping that our love never dies.
Balo
When he finished writing, Balo took out a match box, lit one and started to burn the parchment at the back. Flames soon made a hole in the centre that extended to reduce the parchment to ashes that the wind took to the west. There was a strong wind blowing that night and it took the ashes far away very fast, to another side of the city.
Some rests of the parchment came to Yesdeys' face, who felt like a soft hand caressed her face. She felt it like a relief. She was in the cemetery, firm and serious, surrounded by strange people in his grandmother funeral.
She had sometimes thought she would go back to that icy city in northern Europe where she was born, but she never imagined it would be for sad reason. Her parents' job in USA kept her away, she just had vague memories of her childhood, playing with the snow in his grandmother's garden. She remembered her grandmother's soft, white face, her icy, sensitive hands, her fondly look, her grey hair with blond locks that she used to put up in a bun. She had always wondered why her father did not want to see his family, he had always insisted on spending holidays in another place.
She just could remember her grandmother in family events like weddings and baptisms. Yesdeys was of medium height with a normal complexion, but her breast were prominent. Her skin was pale, her eyes were opaque and his ash blond hair was long and straight. She was wearing a long, cheerless cloak.
Her aunts were by her side. The priest had already blessed the coffin that was being introduced in the hole and those present were throwing flowers and some pieces of paper. Then, the coffin was covered with earth until it was buried.
It had been a really sad day for Yesdeys and she was tired because of the long journey to Helsinki. She walked with her aunts to her grandmother's.
Her aunts were tall and slim, their features were Finnish. The only difference between them was Ania's untidy hair, lighter than her sister's, and Arminem's tired face, marked with wrinkles that gave her face more expressiveness and experience. Arminem was around fifty and Ania was seven years younger. Yesdeys was able to see that the older one had a dominant character while the younger one had a rebellious character.
I've written a book called "Join me in blood" and I'm a new author. I'm posting this because I just wanna now what you think about the first chapter of my book. I don't really know how to promote my book. I don't want you to spam, I want you to discuss about this first chapter...
I will post more in this forum because I love literaute and I'm very glad here right now
Thank you very much! It will take you just a few minutes!!
If you wanna now more, just ask me! Or type "Join me in blood" in google!
FIRST CHAPTER
Helsinki
He was running through those alleys, trying to lose them. It was at night, the full moon shone surrounded by an orange halo. Balo was wearing his opaque raincoat that went all the way to his feet; it was stained with blood that oozed from his right side, above his waist. He had his hand on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He saw the shadows that were chasing him thanks to the effect that the light of the lamps created. In a corner, he found another alley that took him to another one and there he saw a half-open wooden door. The atmosphere was sunless, but he could see everything in the darkness. Without thinking it, he opened the door, went in and closed it quickly in silence. Inside, he looked through an opening of the door and saw how those shadows went right past to disappear into the narrow streets.
Balo breathed a sight of relief and went in that sombre room, resting against the wall. Inside, there were a table and several wooden chairs. It looked like a kitchen, the dust on the furniture had been there for a long time. He let his tired body fall on the floor and looked at his wound, it looked serious.
'It was close', he thought.
He felt how his body was weakening.
'I just need to rest', he thought.
Through the curtains, the moon shone accompanied by the clouds that were trying to cover it. Balo looked at it, he loved the moon. He rested his head against the wall, his thick hair, that was almost sombre, with some rebellious, sweaty locks of the colour of wet earth, fell down his face, that was of the colour of paper. He had a turned-up nose, a broad forehead, generous lips of the colour of tomato, marked features and his eyes were of the colour of fresh leaves. He was very tall, he overtook 5.9 feet, and very slim. He couldn't keep his eyes open due to exhaustion.
'No!', he thought, 'there are just a couple of hours left to the dawn, I have to look for a shelter'.
He got up with pain, half-closing his eyes, holding on the wall and biting his lower lip with his canines because of the pain. It was hard to walk for him, but he went ahead and crossed a corridor where he saw the stairs leading to another floor and other corridors on the side that led to other rooms. He was walking ahead when he stepped on something empty. He lifted the carpet and found a trapdoor that led to the basement. He opened it.
'Fine!', he thought.
He went down the stairs, shut the trapdoor and looked for a corner on where he could lie down. He covered himself up with his raincoat and closed his eyes.
The time went by and Balo, whose eyes were half-open, was getting his strength back. He saw the sunlight through the openings of the trapdoor. It was far away from his cold body. He was watching how the light moved on the floor, diagonally across the room. In that moment, Balo remembered his childhood. He was a four or five-year-old boy and he was playing in the playground with other children his age in the broad daylight. He remembered how he looked at the sun, closed his eyes and even then he could still see the golden sphere with his eyes closed, engraved in his pupils.
'If only I could see the sun again', Balo thought.
The hours went by and, after the last ray of sunlight, in the twilight, Balo got up. His body was still recovering from the wound, he still felt weak. He knew he needed to eat to recover. He went up the stairs, opened the door and jumped to the first floor. He left the house and started walking in the sombre street.
He rose his head and, as a predator, he scented the air after whatever he could find around there. He smelt a small farm near a forest, away from the streets, and headed towards the house. As a hungry animal, he jumped and ran and, when he arrived there, he unlocked the railings. The animals screamed like they were overcome with an awful fear. He saw a cow at the back, he could smell its blood and listen the sound that the blood made when it move inside the body until it arrived at the heart, that beat with energy and speed, it was like it knew it wouldn't do that again...
Cebalon was driving his motorbike really fast in a deserted road close to the city. His motorbike was a Kawasaki Vulcan VN 1700 with 1700 c.c. twin-cylinder engine. He was wearing a cheerless raincoat of the colour of frogs that went all the way to his feet over a red suede shirt, cheerless suede trousers that matched with coarse boots with golden adornments. His face was the same colour as paper, his hair was tangled in rastas that were the same colour as straw and he put his hair into a ponytail. With his metal blue eyes, he looked at every detail of the city.
'I should hurry up', he thought, 'No-deads will get up at midnight, I have to find him.'
Balo went out of the stable wiping the blood he had on his lips with his hands. His eyes were as red as blood and his canine were sharp. He closed his eyes and his mouth and, when he opened them again, he had already recovered his usual colour. He walked through the streets of the city like a wandering soul. The gelid air was like a cloak accompanied by the mist that enveloped its streets, that would never leave him. The cold did not affect Balo anymore, he was used to its company as if it were a faithful friend. He climbed onto the roof of one of the houses. The moon was covered by a tomato halo, it was more intense than the night before. He took out a parchment and an ink pen of his cheerless cloak. Looking to the north, he could see the remote mountains that were covered by ice, and he started to write:
In this cold night nothing is the same.
The world is empty since your arms are not with me and my heart cannot resist it anymore.
I feel an immense misery and a great pain that does not let me continue.
The pain does not let me come closer to your sepulchre, only my tears are with you.
I so wish to meet you up again, you and me, two souls that escape from this heartless world and that meet again in the death due to the promise of our sacred sacrament of love.
I hope to die to be able to hold you in my arms again or to live hoping that our love never dies.
Balo
When he finished writing, Balo took out a match box, lit one and started to burn the parchment at the back. Flames soon made a hole in the centre that extended to reduce the parchment to ashes that the wind took to the west. There was a strong wind blowing that night and it took the ashes far away very fast, to another side of the city.
Some rests of the parchment came to Yesdeys' face, who felt like a soft hand caressed her face. She felt it like a relief. She was in the cemetery, firm and serious, surrounded by strange people in his grandmother funeral.
She had sometimes thought she would go back to that icy city in northern Europe where she was born, but she never imagined it would be for sad reason. Her parents' job in USA kept her away, she just had vague memories of her childhood, playing with the snow in his grandmother's garden. She remembered her grandmother's soft, white face, her icy, sensitive hands, her fondly look, her grey hair with blond locks that she used to put up in a bun. She had always wondered why her father did not want to see his family, he had always insisted on spending holidays in another place.
She just could remember her grandmother in family events like weddings and baptisms. Yesdeys was of medium height with a normal complexion, but her breast were prominent. Her skin was pale, her eyes were opaque and his ash blond hair was long and straight. She was wearing a long, cheerless cloak.
Her aunts were by her side. The priest had already blessed the coffin that was being introduced in the hole and those present were throwing flowers and some pieces of paper. Then, the coffin was covered with earth until it was buried.
It had been a really sad day for Yesdeys and she was tired because of the long journey to Helsinki. She walked with her aunts to her grandmother's.
Her aunts were tall and slim, their features were Finnish. The only difference between them was Ania's untidy hair, lighter than her sister's, and Arminem's tired face, marked with wrinkles that gave her face more expressiveness and experience. Arminem was around fifty and Ania was seven years younger. Yesdeys was able to see that the older one had a dominant character while the younger one had a rebellious character.