Gripping the attention of a reader at the very beginning of a story is key. If the reader isn’t baited and hooked from sentence one, you risk losing an audience. In my book A Secret Love I actually rearranged the chapters for the effect of intrigue. The reader must have a reason to continue. Below is the prologue for a novel I have not yet completed. But, I am sure after reading it, the reader will be filled with questions and flip the page. That’s all you want, a reader to enjoy the story enough to flip the page.
Tonight you can enjoy My Morning Free on Amazon
Forced Silence
Seraphina slumped against the tin partition in the restroom stall, head limp, eyes staring blankly at the floor. Her backpack slid off her shoulder, down her arm, hitting the tiled floor with a thud, awakening her from her trance. She quickly tugged it back to the safety of her grip, hugging it tightly to her chest. She made it. Back to DC.
The space was tight but she would make it work to do what she needed to prepare. The wait had been long. Now here it was. The answer to her prayers.
Removing her baseball cap, she shook out her wavy black hair, combed her fingers through and fanned it back. She hung her rumpled jacket on the hook followed by her backpack. Metal screeched as the zipper of the backpack was released. Out came a delicately pleated black dress, sheer stockings and black leather three inch strappy sandals. In went comfortable jeans, a football jersey, a pair of socks and tennis. The metal screeched to a close.
She stilled herself listening for sounds of commuters. No splashing sounds. No flushing sounds. No chatter. Only stillness. She emerged to the mirror opening the front pocket of the backpack producing a compact. In the mirror the narrow, sagging face of a young girl of 18 speckled with freckles, no glimmer in her eyes, no color in her cheeks peered back. She bit on her thin chapped lips, disheartened. She pressed her eyelids shut and took in a deep breath to clear her thoughts.
It was all behind her now and her future was promising, so why the look of despair? Her hands began to work. Black mascara lengthened and thickened her lashes. Black eyeliner lined her lower lids. Desert gold and peach blossom shadowed her lids. Coral gloss shined her lips while rose blush colored her cheeks. Her hands finished with bronzer for a sun kissed appeal.
Now in the mirror a young woman of 18, divine, classy stared back. Commuters piled in forming lines. Seraphina waited in the back of the line for her moment. She lost herself in a group as they made their way out. Sunlight warmed her skin and impeded her vision. A pair of sunglasses went from her backpack to her eyes. Gracefully walking with all the refinement of a young beautiful heiress, she stepped to the curb and entered a cab.
“Where to ma'am?”
“Georgetown.”
