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Prologue For a Book I'm Working On!

Updated: Jul 12, 2024

Thunderstorms were a common occurrence in the Card Kingdoms, but the day the only prince of the Kingdom of Spades took over as king, the skies were raging with an unusually powerful storm, almost like a warning or foreshadowing relating to his succession of the throne. Ominously, dark grey storm clouds clumped together in masses, raining down on the umbrellas and raincoats of the crowd gathered below at the courtyard of the Castle of Spades. Despite the occasion of the gathering, the crowd gave off a gloomy, miserable energy. The former King of Spades was dead. According to the castle messengers, King Suites had died in his sleep. A tragedy, as he was a beloved, benevolent ruler who had won the admiration and respect of not just the Kingdom of Spades, but the entirety of Card Kingdom. Months prior, he had fallen to a great sickness and was bedridden, weakening by the day. No doctor was able to identify this illness, much less find a cure. All this was being explained by the announcer, Prince and soon-to-be King of Spades standing at his shoulder, his face, and expression along with it masked by a silver helmet visor. 


The young heir maintained a neutral posture, showing no signs of emotion. However, there was someone in the crowd who could sense the smugness radiating off him. A flash of lightning lit up the grim, pale face of Prince Ace of the Kingdom of Hearts, bright red eyes glaring sharply up at the other prince knowingly. Whipping around, he marched off, out the crowd and onto the path leading to the Dimension Doorway. He highly doubted anyone in the Card Kingdom would be willing to commit the utmost treason for something the Heart Prince, who was notorious for his roguish behaviour and love of chaos, said. He’d need a little more help for this.



Several dimension jumps away, swearing loudly, August West, seventeen year old tornado of clumsiness, tripped over his GCSE sketchbook, face planting into the large mug of black coffee lying on his desk. The dark liquid splashed all over the papers sprawled across the wooden surface as well as his freshly washed auburn hair, although thankfully not on the sketchbook. Noting he would probably need to shower again, he raised his head from the mug. His ankle throbbed painfully from tripping, and August formed the conclusion he had most likely rolled the joint. No serious harm done.


Blinded, he then got to his feet shakily and groped around his desk in search of a pack of tissues, knocking over his desk lamp in the process. The coffee stung his eyes like a wasp repeatedly jabbing his eyes. Eventually, after a couple more blunders, August managed to find the tissues, extracting one sheet to wipe his eyes, then pulling the rest out and swiping the wad across the desk sloppily, still in the process of recovering his vision. Since he had gone into the shower, a rainstorm had made an unwelcome appearance. Raindrops splattered his back, sneaking in through the slightly open window.


Great way to start a Monday morning.


As he finished wiping down his desk and salvaging any untouched papers, August watched a flash of lightning illuminated his window. A feeling not unlike mild electric shocks travelling down his spine, forcing a slight shudder out of him. Looking out, he could have sworn he saw an almost humanoid shape flying through the storm. A quick shadow flitting across his vision then disappearing just as quickly. He stared for a couple of moments, until his mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen, informing him that the school bus would arrive in five minutes and he best get ready soon. Swiftly, August shut the window and swept the tissues in the wastepaper basket along with the damaged papers. More cautiously than his previous attempt, he navigated through the mess that was his room and collected all his school things. Upon doing so, he thrust his poster-covered door open, rushing down the stairs and to the front door, pausing only to rinse the coffee out of his hair at the kitchen sink.


As he left the house, umbrella in one hand, backpack straps clutched in the other, August couldn’t help but notice the peculiar feeling of somebody watching him.

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