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Heat fingered up the monastery tower. The great library burned below a blood moon, the setting sun heavy at the edge of the world.
“I must wait for the moon. The master will follow me to hell if the sun shines on these pages.” “You may have your wish to burn in hell, but we will burn here and now, if we do not descend from this place.” “You go. There is no place for me to run.” “Throw the damnable book into the flames, Domingo. His power will end if he has not the words.” “There is another copy, Ernesto. Do you not understand? I wrote the first book dictated by the Master, but a thief in the night stole the last page. This is my memory of the original, only. A reference to keep hidden for his children. The Master knows all within the original. He needs only the amulet, drawn upon the flyleaf, to posses the key to the powers of Solomon.” “So let him find another scribe. The world burns outside these walls. We must leave now, Domingo. Can you not smell the flesh of our brothers as they rescue the wisdom of ages?” “They have their reward, so let them go to it. God keep them. I have only the sleep of the tortured and the arms of the torturer before me. The master will grant me eternal life in this world, if I succeed. He needs but a drop of my blood to awaken the spell. A sacrifice from a son of his making. So you see, this is my rescue. To finish the Book of the Seventy Two, with love for the Master.” “God’s Grace be upon you, brother Domingo. Repent of your sins, and He will forgive you.” “My friend, I am not of the living such as you. I am the line of giborim, soulless, doomed.” Ernesto stumbled away from his friend, seeing him clearly for the first and last time. The Veil between worlds thinned, then ripped to reveal the thing that was Domingo. Ernesto shielded his heart with his copper cross, and flung his feet down laddered steps from the bell tower peak. Smoke choked his sobs as soot gathered in his tears. The thing had been his brother. “God be merciful, I know the mystery of the copper crosses. I must warn my brothers.”Domingo labored long after the last of Ernesto’s smoldering screams fell away. Acrid air sank into his lungs to steal his concentration, and falter his arms. Left and right hands gilded the edge of the fatal final page. A border of ruby red, an line of lapis blue, ringed the palest ivory pages. It was his finest work. “It is done. I am no longer damned.” Domingo turned to descend from his high artist’s chair. “Domingo? To whom do you speak?” A voice broke the roar of the blazing tower. “Master, I did not hear you.” “I come for my book, and I find you headed to a window.” The Master wore his purple cloak and Domingo saw only stubbed black boots. He knew what lay beneath. “I thought to throw it out the window, to preserve it. The very stone of the tower burns, there is no other way.” “Give me the book Domingo. I would see it safely gone.” Domingo opened the brilliant tomb to a page at its center. A ribbon marked page. He lifted a sacred dagger to draw the gifted blood. “You must make the spell now, Master. I would be immortal, as you promised. I cannot die of fire to go scarred and brutalized into hell. “Domingo, my son. Your body will go the way of all flesh. Dust to dust.” “You promised Master. Even you cannot break a sacred promise.” “The promise will be kept…” “Without the spell, how can it be? The tower burns the leather upon my very feet, Master. It must be now. You must do this. Now!” The jeweled dagger buried itself to the hilt in Domingo’s heart, clean between ribs. The astonished monk withdrew the curved blade in his hand, and watched blood drip onto the page. Vivid red upon the spell of the immortals. “I have kept my promise, my son. Your blood will live millennia before the day of your judgement.” Domingo raged in his last moment. Betrayed by the love of a father. “My blood will cry out from the ground, as did Abel’s to the God in the Heavens. The Master approached to lift the tomb as it slipped from dying fingers. “Perhaps. Perhaps not, but be certain of this one thing, Domingo. Silence. “God will not hear your calls. He does not hear the call of the giborhim. “I curse you, Master.” “No, Domingo. It is I who curse you. Each time this book is used in worship to the one, another demon will come to lay claim to your torment.” Domingo’s life leaked to his shoes, and hissed. On his face, the horror of hades reflected in his eyes. He lay in the arms of his torturers. The Master tucked the thick, tooled leather into his cloak. |
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Ellen Brock 
I like the drama, but a little context would really help me understand what is going on. Maybe a bit more setting too. It was bit tough for me to visualize the scene and the characters.
This opening is definitely very intriguing and I absolutely like the atmosphere it evokes. The book they’re trying to burn also speaks to my imagination a lot. And I definitely feel you when you’re trying to throw these mysteries at us: there’s the book, there’s an amulet, the power of Solomon, the occult number 72, a mystery of copper crosses… Do you see how it’s a lot at the same time, you’re throwing a lot at me as a reader. Don’t get me wrong, each of them made me curious, but since little to no context is given for any of them it’s pretty confusing. I’m wondering if you, the writer, have a strong interest in freemasonry and kabbalah. Be a bit careful which direction you go in because the freemasonry thing has been done a lot. 🙂
You definitely raise questions, which is a great hook. But I’d spend some time on developing the characters of Domingo and Ernesto, I’d like to know a bit more about them before you start the story. What do they look like? What is their relation to each other and the master? Why should I care about them? Your opening lines need some work.
And who is the main character? Domingo? Surely not the master I hope because he’s an A-hole. If he IS the MC then please give me something I can sympathize with before giving me this scene.
I hope I’m of some help. I would definitely like to hear more about your novel!
I find this all a bit confusing, there is too much going on and it is difficult to grasp in one read. You have plenty of good material here, but you need to be more economical with your language. I know the concept of the first thousand words is difficult, and I thnk I really need to see more of your first chapter.
hey there,
So what I’m going to do is add in what i see in my head in between your writing… see if the image in my head lines up with what you want me to see.
Heat fingered up the monastery tower. The great library burned below a blood moon, the setting sun heavy at the edge of the world.
—- man standing at a window in a monestary that is really high like 10 storeys, there is a seperate building burning below, its dusk or dawn?—-
“I must wait for the moon. The master will follow me to hell if the sun shines on these pages.”
“You may have your wish to burn in hell, but we will burn here and now, if we do not descend from this place.”
“You go. There is no place for me to run.”
“Throw the damnable book into the flames, Domingo. His power will end if he has not the words.”
— ok dusk, and now theres a book that is important not the burning building below?—–
“There is another copy, Ernesto. Do you not understand? I wrote the first book dictated by the Master, but a thief in the night stole the last page. This is my memory of the original, only. A reference to keep hidden for his children. The Master knows all within the original. He needs only the amulet, drawn upon the flyleaf, to posses the key to the powers of Solomon.”
— ok so he cloud toss the book? an he doesn’t seem fussed about the burning building. Just that his master will posses the key to Solomons power.—
“So let him find another scribe. The world burns outside these walls. We must leave now, Domingo. Can you not smell the flesh of our brothers as they rescue the wisdom of ages?”
“They have their reward, so let them go to it. God keep them. I have only the sleep of the tortured and the arms of the torturer before me. The master will grant me eternal life in this world, if I succeed. He needs but a drop of my blood to awaken the spell. A sacrifice from a son of his making. So you see, this is my rescue. To finish the Book of the Seventy Two, with love for the Master.”
— Oh so his going to be immortal so he doesn’t care about fire or the people, just his book and his master and not going to hell.—
“God’s Grace be upon you, brother Domingo. Repent of your sins, and He will forgive you.”
“My friend, I am not of the living such as you. I am the line of giborim, soulless, doomed.”
— Not a man then a sort of “demon thing” I would have to stop reading here and google the name—-
Ernesto stumbled away from his friend, seeing him clearly for the first and last time.
The Veil between worlds thinned, then ripped to reveal the thing that was Domingo. Ernesto shielded his heart with his copper cross, and flung his feet down laddered steps from the bell tower peak. Smoke choked his sobs as soot gathered in his tears.
—- His not from this world, so is this earth or someplace else. Not really important so…. reading on—-
The thing had been his brother.
“God be merciful, I know the mystery of the copper crosses. I must warn my brothers.”
—- Ernesto’s know a secret and is running to tell the people who are burning in the library? —
Domingo labored long after the last of Ernesto’s smoldering screams fell away.
—– so the secret doesn’t actually matter because he dies? —–
Acrid air sank into his lungs to steal his concentration, and falter his arms. Left and right hands gilded the edge of the fatal final page. A border of ruby red, an line of lapis blue, ringed the palest ivory pages. It was his finest work.
—- the book is done, but he has done the book before? So this is his second time finishing this book or is it just the page?—
“It is done. I am no longer damned.”
Domingo turned to descend from his high artist’s chair.
“Domingo? To whom do you speak?” A voice broke the roar of the blazing tower.
“Master, I did not hear you.”
“I come for my book, and I find you headed to a window.”
— I thought he was at the window all the time…. when did he sit down, or is the window right by his chair, ill go with that. Big window by his chair.—-
The Master wore his purple cloak and Domingo saw only stubbed black boots. He knew what lay beneath.
“I thought to throw it out the window, to preserve it. The very stone of the tower burns, there is no other way.”
—- still wondering why this copy of the book is so important—-
“Give me the book Domingo. I would see it safely gone.”
Domingo opened the brilliant tomb to a page at its center. A ribbon marked page. He lifted a sacred dagger to draw the gifted blood.
—- his gifted? like demon wizard sort of thing?—-
“You must make the spell now, Master. I would be immortal, as you promised. I cannot die of fire to go scarred and brutalized into hell.
“Domingo, my son. Your body will go the way of all flesh. Dust to dust.”
“You promised Master. Even you cannot break a sacred promise.”
“The promise will be kept…”
— I basiclly see him holding a dagger in one hand and a big book in the other with the master creeping closer to get the book. Where will he stab himself to draw blood?—
“Without the spell, how can it be? The tower burns the leather upon my very feet, Master. It must be now. You must do this. Now!”
The jeweled dagger buried itself to the hilt in Domingo’s heart, clean between ribs. The astonished monk withdrew the curved blade in his hand, and watched blood drip onto the page. Vivid red upon the spell of the immortals.
— did he stab himself in the heart? how? maybe the knife im imagining is wrong. Like to long or something. —–
“I have kept my promise, my son. Your blood will live millennia before the day of your judgement.”
Domingo raged in his last moment. Betrayed by the love of a father.
— I imagine him on the floor at this point collapsed, the rage must be internal after a wound like that.——
“My blood will cry out from the ground, as did Abel’s to the God in the Heavens.
The Master approached to lift the tomb as it slipped from dying fingers.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not, but be certain of this one thing, Domingo.
Silence.
—– is the master looming over him? rubbing his blood into the stone? Why silence?—–
“God will not hear your calls. He does not hear the call of the giborhim.
“I curse you, Master.”
—- I would think the master needs to be close to him now, maybe…—
“No, Domingo. It is I who curse you. Each time this book is used in worship to the one, another demon will come to lay claim to your torment.”
—– ok so he is some sort of demon, but now the book is to worship the one, i was under the impression it was a spell for solomons power.—-
Domingo’s life leaked to his shoes, and hissed. On his face, the horror of hades reflected in his eyes.
He lay in the arms of his torturers.
The Master tucked the thick, tooled leather into his cloak.
And walked into the fire.
Tower bells rang as they fell.
—- the whole place collapse into flames—
So i miss the feel or sense of the two characters playing off of each other. Body language and so on. Try drawing thumbnails of this sequence(google if you don’t know what i mean by thumbnail). I don’t mind that the characters talk about stuff i don’t know, but I don’t feel like they are even n the same room. Feels more like a phone call.
Hope this helps 😀