Posted in 2014, fiction, my writing, Writing

The Uprising – Thoughts and Prologue

I have finally started planning my full length original novel.  It is very loosely based on my A7X fanfic, Shadows Creed; however the plot, and character motivations are different.

The basic premise is this:

It is 2025.  The Creed controls everything.  Peace reigns after the War of Words.  Music has been banned.  But, there has been rumours of the rise of The Mus.  

The Mus is a mysterious renegade who provokes the Creed through random acts of daring, playing music in the most unlikeliest of places.  No one has any idea of who it may be, except for Pips Preston who has just been released from prison.

Their worlds merge and become the catalyst for a revolution that will change the lives of everyone they know and love.

Main Cast:
Robbie Douglas [Thomas Brodie-Sangster]
Daniel McTavish [Alex O’Loughlin]
Philip “Pips” Preston [Pierre Bouvier]
Elliott Preston [Jim Sturgess]

I will now share the prologue with you and the banner.  Enjoy.

“Let’s go home.”
Valoren City
1st May, 2025
0415 Hours
It began with the drum sticks.  Long, thin, black with a cobweb clinging for dear life to its length as if the poor spider half-heartedly started then got spooked.  He stared at the sticks for a long time, with not a thought.  Just allowing his eyes to follow the straight lines.  Then, casting his gaze to the laptop next to him.  It sat, perching, on an upturned milk crate the faded metal cover catching the dim light that filtered into the room. 
He inhaled deeply before leaning across to hit a key; placing the tips of the sticks on the edge of the crate. 
Pausing, he checked the monitor, reading the words that scrolled across the screen.  Then with a twist of his lips he proceeded to play.
                                                            * * *
Daniel swore as the alarm by his head jolted him awake.  The incessant beeping sent a murderous impulse through him, but he settled for just slapping the top of his radio until it stopped.  The sudden silence afterwards set his teeth on edge, but then something else…
The speakers outside his window were pulsing.  He grimaced, the skin tightening across his forehead as he brushed sleep aside and dragged his body out of bed.  Making his way to the window, not an easy task with his bed covers in his path.  He must’ve kicked them off during the night. He prised it open so he could listen.
Drumbeats.  Unmistakeable.  Filled the air.  He blinked several times before cursing again.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he said out loud, a groan ending his words. 
He stood still, just listening as his heart rate seemed to match the steady rhythm that the speakers were emitting.  Dragging fingers through his hair he heaved a sigh, shaking his head hard. 
“Coffee,” he muttered through clenched teeth.  “Coffee…then I’ll deal with it.”  He slammed his window shut to block out the sound.  “Coffee…” he repeated as he made the journey across his room to the door. 
                                                            * * *
Freedom.  Such an overrated word.  True freedom didn’t exist in the City.  Pips knew that better than anyone.  He was out.  Standing outside the gates of The Astor.  But, he wasn’t really out.  No one ever was once they’d been incarcerated.  Too little trust was gained.  But, that didn’t really matter.  For the moment, he felt a certain sense of liberty. 
Tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie as he scanned the long stretch of road he felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips when he recognised his brother’s beatup truck heading his way.  Elliott Preston was as reliable as ever.  Like clockwork that guy was always where he needed to be. And right now, Pips was grateful that his brother was coming to get him. 
He lifted a hand in greeting as the truck came to a shuddering halt in front of him.  Elliott jumped out and grabbed him in a bone-crushing embrace.
Pips returned the embrace just as hard.  Elliott winced a little, pulling back.
“Man, you packed it on.”
Pips chuckled, low, shaking his head.  “Well, I didn’t take up knitting in there.”  His brother squeezed his bicep in response to that.
“Come on, let’s go home.” 
Pips exhaled, a rough sound as he looked toward the truck.  Home.  And freedom…not that he would ever really be free.  No one ever was in the City.  But, at least they could pretend that it was true.  

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