@Zane Dowling it's good for me too! Haha!

@Zane Dowling My absolute pleasure! I love the overall premise! You've got great bones here.

To continue on this same idea... This... *** “He’s probably asleep.” Elber broke in matter-of-factly still standing next to the light and actually leaning on it just a bit while bouncing quite rapidly, yet ever so slightly, on the forward balls of his feet and shifting his weight from one to the other rhythmically while checking his fingernails for dirt. “And I don’t think he will take well to you calling him boy, and laddie, and such, since I would wager he is probably older than you. I know that he’s older than me and I don’t take to it much myself. It is annoying and feels terribly condescending. Anyway, He’ll be awake in a moment or t—” “Aagghh! What in the world are you staring at?” Duäl yelled with an annoyed tone that matched the look on his face. *** Can be this... *** “He’s probably asleep.” Elber broke in matter-of-factly. “And I don’t think he will take well to you calling him boy, and laddie, and such. I would wager he is probably older than you. Anyway, He’ll be awake in a moment or—” “Aagghh! What in the world are you staring at?” Duäl yelled, his face sour. *** And you lose nothing. Arguably, you gain a lot more because we're not losing the fun in description.

@Zane Dowling I know the urge to describe exactly what you're imagining, but in that urge to be specific and paint a clear picture, we lose the plot and then have to think - wait, what's happening here? If you describe everything, the reader doesn't get a chance to imagine - and in a sense they're working hard to imagine exactly what you want them to see. In a way, you can see it as micro-managing the reader's imagination (for a lack of better words).

Here's my fresh take based on the prologue (before reading any further)..... the story premise is interesting. I'm interested to know more about this narrator and how it is that they're so dangerous. I'm curious about the lore; the danger of saying his name, and who can say it without consequence. I like the imagery of these camps (or his victims?). I like the set up of this narrator telling the story of the person who appears to be his enemy or frenemy. I like the idea of an arrangement taking place. While the mystery is intriguing, I think the prologue goes on a little long for how cryptic it is. I can see a world where if the finest parts of this prologue were given space, it would hit much stronger. The set up overall is interesting, but he's sort of debating/mulling with himself over things we don't understand yet. That would be interesting with context, but without it, we're left in the dark and sort of getting through it. So again, the mystery is good, but there's a lot of it. If you refined the finest parts of this prologue, it would be more capturing, in my humble opinion. I absolutely love the lead in to the title, by the way. It feels episodic and kind of like classic TV or movies, very unique and original while also being a nod and callback. Very nice.

@Zane Dowling I see what you mean (honestly, I'm like that, haha). So you want to show that he's self-indulgent, perhaps? I bet you could do that by what you say instead of how-much you say, if that makes sense. There can be a moment of self-consciousness or you can say it outright, maybe? Because the reader who just cracked open the book won't know that about him. Suggesting a sort of loneliness or bottled-up energy is really interesting in a foreboding character such as The Unspoken - it's a great dichotomy.

@Rae Merritt same! I can't wait to dig into it!

Thank you @Jessica Wagner , great idea!!! It wasn’t so much the look of the place but the smell. Like an old library book and also, somehow, cotton candy. With each step, wood creaked underfoot. As light cut through the front bay windows, it appeared as if I were swimming through floating dust. I stepped between two display racks of sun-baked comic books that no one had touched in decades, and walked down the center aisle toward the back. Those who knew only came into this store for one thing. It wasn’t the expired canned goods or any of the other random items used as this space’s costume. You came here for what the woman in the back knew. And there she was behind the counter, waiting.

We walked through the beaded curtains into a narrow hall. On my right was a tall stack of old text books with a dusty computer from the 90s. On its screen was a post-it note with a smily face drawn on it. "That's Reginald," she said, as she continued walking. I scratched my head unsure whether to ask about Reginald or the bookshelf full of pesticide canisters organized by color. "Uh, so Turk says you'll know my situation." "What situation?" She stopped and grimaced at me. "Care to be more specific? You got a rash or something?" "No," I said. I looked around for listening ears, but then realized I looked stupid. By the look on her face, she agreed. "My daughter found a sort of... rock." She sighed and nodded. "Okay, what was it then?" I said. "It was actually a petrified eyeball. Looks nothing like a rock." "So you know why I'm here then?" "Yeah of course. You all keep going on about what I know. Well, I know all of it. Don't know why you all keep asking if I know." "So you'll help me?" "Yeah, why not. I like the look of ya. But I want you to do something for me first. Been a while since I've seen a real tall man like yourself around here." "What do you want?" I imagined the wild things she might ask me to do. How would this local legend, this mystic force inside this town recruit a man such as myself. Could I handle it? What was I signing up for? She cleared her throat and rubbed her hands together.