Prologue

September 22 was a late night hunting demons. 

Three o’clock in the morning found Malachai racing through rows of shoulder-high cornstalks in pursuit of a hellhound. His lungs burned, his muscles screamed, and sweat plastered his blond locks to his forehead as he gave chase to the Mongrel. Malachai had been hunting since shortly after sunset, and thus far he had killed all six of its pack, but the final fiend had evaded him for almost two hours. A trail of smudged, bloody pawprints blackened the ground before him, barely perceptible in the darkness. Each print grew closer and closer to the last; finally, exhaustion and injury were claiming the beast. The faint stench of rotting flesh lingered in the brisk autumn air. 

Malachai burst free of the corn and into a grassy clearing, nearly tripping as he came to an abrupt halt. The scent of decay intensified by tenfold. Before him, the otherworldly creature crouched, its maw parted in a sinister grin that revealed rows of teeth jutting out at bizarre and unnatural angles, its gray tongue lolling to the side as it panted heavily. Its eerie eyes cast an emerald glow upon the grass, and black blood dripped from a gash on its thigh, pooling underfoot. The pair began to waltz in a circle, chests heaving, each anticipating the strike of the other. 

“Give it up. You’re alone, and you’re injured. You won’t survive this. You can’t,” Malachai insisted. 

The Mongrel cackled briefly, its hyena-like laughter drowning out the buzz of insects, and the sound raised goosebumps on Malachai’s skin. It spoke in a gravelly tone, its words disjointed and garbled. “I never quits, butcher. I kill. I die. Never quits.” 

Malachai squared his shoulders, tightening his grip on the hilt of his dagger. “So be it,” he growled, and he threw himself at the fiend. 

With another peal of laughter, the hound leapt to the right, skirting around Malachai. Malachai spun on his heels to face it, never allowing it out of his sight. The beast lunged towards his throat. Malachai threw up his left arm, knocking its muzzle away with his elbow. Its jaws snapped together harmlessly, bone clicking against bone. Malachai swung his right arm around, and he drove his blade into the nape of its neck, severing its spinal cord. Its body collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cut. 

Heart pounding, Malachai paused, locking eyes with his prey as he struggled to fill his lungs. “This time, you die. You should have quit.” And he slit its throat. 

Thick, black blood gurgled from the wound once, twice, and no more. Its eyes went dark, two lamps extinguished. A moment later, the hellhound’s body began to fold in on itself, contorting into impossibly grotesque shapes. In a matter of seconds, the corpse could have fit in the palm of his hand. It vanished in a wisp of smoke. 

Malachai glanced at his watch, rubbing his elbow as he did so; already, he could feel a bruise forming where he’d struck the Mongrel. His entire body quivered with fatigue as he wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. It was 3:08 AM. 

Internally, he groaned. School started in four hours and thirty-seven minutes.

Reviews

[Renvek]

Howdy,

September 22 was a late night hunting demons. 

Three o’clock in the morning found Malachai racing through rows of shoulder-high cornstalks in pursuit of a hellhound. His lungs burned, his muscles screamed, and sweat plastered his blond locks to his forehead as he gave chase to the Mongrel. Malachai had been hunting since shortly after sunset, and thus far he had killed all six of its pack, but the final fiend had evaded him for almost two hours. A trail of smudged, bloody pawprints blackened the ground before him, barely perceptible in the darkness. Each print grew closer and closer to the last; finally, exhaustion and injury were claiming the beast. The faint stench of rotting flesh lingered in the brisk autumn air

Show me what is going on this is telling me.

Using your own story and realize I am changing none of the story I am just filling it in so I get a sense of action.

The darkness at the edge of the woods was broken by the form of Malachai as he raced out coming out into the faded light of the crescent moon. The faded light that gave outline to the corn field he was about to enter. Malachai looked at his watch and tipped his head back in frustration as he realized it was three o'clock in the morning. Shaking his head he could see the stalks moving just ahead of him and he picked up his pace once again as he ran into the field. His prey just out of sight ahead of him as the stalks moved past his shoulders warily closing in on the beast in front of him. Sudden silence brought Malachai to a stop listening for signs his prey had fallen or worse prepared to ambush him. Glancing at the prints that were near the size of his own hands smeared on the ground and mixed with blood he could tell the beast was slowing. Moving quietly he became aware again of his ragged breath and pulsing temples as he began to catch up from the run that began almost 6 hours ago.

What I am doing is putting your story in the point of view that you finish with. I am also allowing the reader to be caught up in the action of what is going on to reveal the 'beast' is actually a hellhound. Speaking of it would be better if at some point you described the hellhounds size and colors rather than rely on the readers imagination of what a hellhound should be. Is it the hound from ghostbusters, the hound from cujo, how big is it? A pug is a different size than a great Dane. Some of the details I omitted from the first paragraph you describe in later parts so it is repetitive. At the end of this there should be some kind of hook something that makes me want to see what happens next and a direction that the book is heading that is the purpose of a prologue or give some background that the reader wouldn't otherwise be able to see.
I hope this helps when you go to rewrite this section.

[EmaleighLynn]

This shows promise. Your action is good, if a little fast. The ending leaves a reader wanting more. I look forward to seeing this develop. Good job.