Not a Random Thought… (Intro to No Way Back)

I’ve started writing a story.  I have no idea where to post it, so I’m coming here to start showing it.  It’s rough right now, and I’m only looking for honest opinions in regards to it.  If anyone has any suggestions, I’ll be happy to take them. 

To be honest, I’m really nervous about posting it, because it’s my first literary work, and I just don’t know how well it’ll be received.

I’m thinking of posting what I have worked on here.  At least then I might get some legitimate feedback, right?

Anyway, I’ll check again later, and see what everyon’e’s said.

Here’s the prologue.  It’s short.  But, it’s not meant to fill a whole book…

I woke up lying on my back. That wouldn’t have been strange, had it not been for the hard, unpadded feeling that came from it. Or the lack of my soft pillow. Or the unusually-shaped black light that was positioned over me. That’s what startled me the most. I closed my eyes, thinking that it was just some odd dream I was having, that, if I passed back out, that I would wake up again. But the air around me moved, cold, and told me this wasn’t a dream. I opened my eyes again to the same, oddly-shaped light that was positioned only inches from my face. I turned my head to see if I was trapped, finding that whatever was positioned over me, it wasn’t affixed to the dark, metallic slab that passed as my resting place.

Just outside of that slab stood … something. From where I’m laying, all I can see is the glowing of the black light off of some kind of fabric, but it’s moving, slowly, folding in some places, stretching taut in others as they seem to be leaning over whatever is over my body. I hear a gasp, then a loud yelling, something I can’t understand, nor do I think I want to. Then, a hand comes into the gap and lands on my shoulder. At least, I think it’s a hand. The same voice, now gentle, kind, feminine, comes through the gap, spoken in English, a strange accent tingeing the words that sound almost forced into existence, almost like someone speaking a language they had only learned yesterday. “Pr-lease, do nort p-hanich. You ahre s-hafe now,” she said, her voice, though obviously not used to speaking the language, was gentle, reassuring. But the feeling of her hand made me nervous. It didn’t feel right. A strange shape, blurry-looking, and long, black nails that pressed against my shirt. When she realized I was looking at her hand, she withdrew it quickly, and yelled again in that strange language. A hiss came from behind her, and a stronger, deeper, more gravelly voice sounded from behind her in the same language. The sound of that voice made me more nervous, and I began to feel around with my hands and legs. My feet were bare, but I was still clothed otherwise, which did little to console me in my growing panic. I discovered at that moment that, whatever it was over my head and chest was not over the rest of me, and that I was not restrained. I lifted my hands to press against the lighting. No sooner had I done so did a loud buzzing begin from outside the device. I heard the deeper voice cry out in its strange language, followed by seeing the flash of the fabric turning away, and it being hidden by something else blurry. As I pressed on the hood, I heard her yell in my language, much clearer, “No! Don’t! He doesn’–” That’s all I remember before the light above me becomes dazzlingly bright, and a wave of searing pain courses through my arms. Then, silence. Darkness.

Was it all a dream?

I wish I could say that it was. But it wasn’t. That’s how I came to live here. Away from all that I knew.

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