Jacks prologue story

This week I've made a lot of progress with the writing. :) I've gotten a lot further and actually worked out a few things within the script. So I'm over the moon about that! And there's not too much else to say other than that really.

Kathryn and I are going out (haven't seen each other in about two-three weeks so it'll be lovely to!) and will probably get writing, drawing and doing even more things when it comes to Heartstones. We're both moving to university in the next two weeks (I KNOW!) so it'd be nice to do that one last time before we go. Although I think that may come next week rather than today, hopefully!

Over the last few weeks you may have noticed me mentioning that I was doing a little prologue story for Jack (and soon it's other characters as well.) Well, I've finally finished it. I don't like it at all, too sentimental if you ask me, but here it is!

*****

The market place thrived at this time of the morning. Maids rushed to and from the stalls on errands while house keepers pottered, looking through the vegetables with deep inspection. Mothers pushed prams and guided they're noisy playful children along the pathways. Stall keepers would be calling out the latest produce and it's best prices. And amongst it all, Henry was standing at the fruit stall. His hands grazing over the mornings fruits.

On an ordinary day he'd have stayed and browsed through the market all day. Yet this morning he felt a small tap on his shoulder. And when he turned he met the dark, deep blue eyes of a constable.

He had the classical handsome look of a man in uniform. The costume he wore daily worked well with this mans blonde hair and handsome “rugged” look. Henry briefly wondered whether his hair was a mess underneath the hat he was wearing.

Messy things was never something that Henry wanted to deal with. Yet Henry felt his mornings happy mood filtering away and a nervous, sickening clench taking hold of his stomach.

“I'm here to take you to the station, Jack has gotten himself into a lot of trouble.”

“Again?”

Henry sighed.

*****

The moment the cell doors creaked opened and Henry walked inside, his nostrils were intoxicated by the smell of alcohol. Until recently, Henry had managed to keep Jack away from the pubs and supposedly bad “influences”. Drinking and drugs was a popular entertainment amongst the rich, and Henry had been relieved when Jack had shown no attempt to go and join the ruthless part of their society.

But then Jack had become withdrawn and silent. He talked, but there was no emotion in his voice, nor anything else reflected on his face. He'd locked himself away for hours in his room.

As a child Jack had always been quiet. At first he'd been shy and again he'd hidden away from anyone. As a teenager he'd been moody and not interested in anything about the quest they were forced to endure. And then one day he'd felt better, he'd appeared with a happy youthful spring to his walk. But this lead to Jack becoming acquainted with some of the more troubled youths and Jack would happily disappear into the pubs and brothels with them.

The floor was cold against him when he sat down. But he didn't care for being cold. He was far too concerned about the boy beside him. Jack was nineteen years old, and in this society considered a full adult.

A streak of light from a hole in the cell illuminated Jacks eyes, and Henry met them. His heart sank when he saw how lost Jack looked. And it was only when Jack leant his head on his shoulder that he realised how young and fragile he was. And in non audible comfort Henry wrapped his arms around him.

Henry knew actions spoke far larger than words ever could.

The End