Prologue The town of Pluttuck was known for it's luxurious pubs, and nice, cozy places to stay for the night. The feeling was warm, but there was a darknest to it, like the cold corner of a swewage system. All the occupants of the town, were very reserved and nobody cared about the other. The only person whose door always had someone knocking on, and whose Telegrammer frequently rang, was the beautiful Broom-Maker who everybody loved. She was charming, and sweet, always cared about others before herself, but still had time to straighten her hair, and curl her eyelashes. Some of the men in the town made excuses to come to her... "I dropped my broom" one of them had said, but it was quite obvious that that broom hadn't just "accidently" got chopped in have with a saw. The Broom-Maker would laugh heartily, and push the man inside, to offer him tea. She would fix his broom at the table, where they would laugh and talk, eventually, the man would forget about his wife and be asking the Broom-Maker to the city ball, or out to dinner, but she would kindly giggle, and kick them out with their newly rekindled broom, and a love struck look on their faces. After a while, the Broom-maker became old news. Not that she wasn't loved or adored, but the men settled down, and the wives stopped loathing her as much as before. She began to lose some of her beauty, as if slowly, it was draining away with every broom she made. Eventually, the Broom-Maker was forgotten, she rarely came out of her wooden store, and never talked to anyone. It was a cold winter night, the snow was falling lightly, but determinedly to the ground, where the coldness was like a disease. There was a distant sound a babies crying, but the wind was seizing most of the it. The Broom-Maker sat at her table, looking around, thinking. Now, what shall I do today She thought. As the years passed she became more and more lost in her mind, and would often find herself thinking about stories, and novels that would be interesting to tell. She decided to occupy herself, by commencing to construct the wood, for her next broom. She used a chestnut stained, polished wood, and dark brown pines for the bristles. She loved to make brooms out of unexpected materials and wood. But ironically, her favorite broom was a standard light wood handle, and light orange bristles. As the began to calm, and the wind slowed down, the cry of babies became more distinct. At first, The Broom-Maker took no notice, she assumed that two siblings got stuck in the snow with their parents, and didn't think less of it! As she held the oil lamp out in front her, walking down the hall to her bed, the cries of the babies continued. She tried to ignore them, but couldn't any longer. Se poked her head sneakily out the window, and looked around. She could definitely hear the screams and yelps, but saw nothing! She decided that if, in the morning the cries continued, she would investigate. The night was harsh, she shivered in her bed, and kept on tossing and turning through out the whole night. The cries of the infants didn't seize until dawn, when, the Broom-Maker assumed, they had finally went home. When the Broom-Maker went outside, to fid her daily PotLuck, she stumbled ever to baskets, a pink one, and blue one. Instead of gathering her mail, she greedily took the baskets inside. She had loved anything that was for her, and honored every gift in it's own way. She put the two suspiciously heavy baskets onto the rough wooden table before her, and started to unwrap the pink one. She was about to have a peek inside, when the basket yawned. How could this be? She didn't wait another moment, and hastily tear off the cloth, to show a very pretty baby, of about 9 months old. The baby looked at her with knowing eyes, and, had the Broom-Maker imagined it. nodded at her? She quickly tore open the blue package, and found a baby boy, of the same age, the baby was still adorable, but her didn't have those knowing eyes, nor did he nod at the Broom-Maker. The Broom-Maker carefully picked up the baby girl, and held her like a daughter. She then picked up the boy, and held him to, as if he were his son. She just knew, without knowing, that these children were meant to be with her. She grinned mysteriously and proceeded to fold blankets to lay the children on. As she lay the babies to sleep. she took a last look at the basket, and found a little note, that read, in very shaky handwriting: Their names are Emily and Evan. Born the 8th of June. Emily's older. The Broom-Maker was perplexed by this note, but didn't have time to think it over, as Evan had began to cry.
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Of course it needs a rewrite to fix the grammer and a read aloud to check the flow.... But those are Duh... As for the content and idea I think this would be a decent prolog to a story I might suggest you rethink you annalogy at the begging where you compared the town being warm but dark to cold corner of a sewage system.... this annallogy baffled me when i think sewage I think dold damp dark grimy dirty... but unless itts in a hot city like Pheonix I would never think it as warm or hot... I dont have any real suggestions to take is place just saying its confusing to me as a reader..... and "All the occupants of the town, were very reserved and nobody cared about the other." ... in this sentance I might add somehting like "All the occupants of the town, were very reserved often remote as if nobody cared about one another." other than those suggestions I think its A great prolog first draft.... keep up the writing... This persoanlly sounds likethe beginning of a book I would enjoy :-)
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