Sharon’s Note: So, all my research says that prologues are a no-no. The story starts where it starts and that’s where you go from there, no skips. This is one of those rules that I dislike, but I’m willing to abide by. So, here’s the prologue from one of my books in the To-Be-Written pile. It’s broken up for release because it’s an entire chapter and we try to keep posts under a thousand words. Warning: Magic Pixie Dream Girl Main Character.
There was no one to stop me. Mommy had to go to work early on Saturdays and Daddy was taking a shower so no one would complain if I got dirty. I had my brand new plastic bucket that Daddy had bought me, and had loaded it with a spade and a paint brush. All the essentials for digging up dinosaurs.
I smirked at my reflection in the window. Daddy had bought me an adventuring outfit. I had a plastic safari hat, khaki shorts, and a black tank top. I looked like Laura from the video games Daddy liked. The only thing that didn’t look right was that I had blond hair, and glasses. Daddy said that it was ok, because hair color didn’t matter and glasses made a girl look pretty like Mommy. He also said Laura probably had to wear glasses sometimes too. Laura was a tuff girl and adventurer. I was going to be too.
Armed for hunting dinosaurs in the dirt, I opened the back door and . . . there was something on the doormat. At first I couldn’t tell what it was. It was red and brown and black and furry where it wasn’t wet and smelled bad. It looked kind of like roadkill, but how did someone hit a kitty on our porch?
The mass of the doormat heaved and wheezed. All the bits and pieces pulled together in my head and when I finally saw the whole I tilted my head back and shrieked, “Daddy! Daddy, come quick! There’s a hurt kitty!”
Before I even finished yelling, Daddy came rocketing around the corner is his bathrobe. His hair was still wet and there was shaving cream under one of his ears. His eyes darted around for the threat as he skidded up to my side.
“Molly! What is it, baby?” He looked down at the poor kitty on the porch and wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Yuck. I think it’s dead.”
“No, Daddy, I saw it breath. It’s hurt, Daddy and you have to fix it.” My Dad was a nurse. He worked in the ER and saved people’s lives all the time. I beamed up at him.
“Baby, it’s really hurt and in a lot of pain. . .” Daddy held his hands out in front of him. I grabbed them and jumped up and down.
“That’s why it came here, Daddy. It knows you’re the best nurse in the entire world. You have to fix it, because it came to you for help.”
Daddy sighed heavily, letting his hands fall to his side while he looked at the cat. He bit his lip. “We can’t take him to the vet. George is out of town and the next one too far.”
“It’s ok, Daddy. I know you can do it.”
He wiped his hand across his face and pointed me to the hall closet. “Ok, baby. We’ll try. Go and grab the craft mat and put it on the kitchen table. I’ll bring in the kitty.”
I barely had the oil cloth in place before Daddy staggered in, carrying the cat, still on the mat. He mumbled under his breath, “Freaking big cat.”
“What else, Daddy?” I danced on my toes.
“Do you think you can carry my first aid kit?” Daddy’s first aid kit was specially assembled. It was everything a house could possibly need in a five gallon bucket. I nodded. “Go get it. I’ll call George.”