I've been working on the first bits of a novel and am curious to see what you folks think I should continue this. It's not that I've hit a writer's block, I, again, and simply curious. And also, any criticism on what I have thus far is more than welcome. My writing, I believe, is good. Not like 10/10 good, more around the areas of perhaps 7.5/10. And if I suck, please say so; I promise I won't be offended. CHAPTER I: Frigid Waters “I have heard the languages of the apocalypse, and now I shall embrace the silence.” -Niel Gaiman The soft sounds of distant thunder reach his ears as he stands tall, his gloved hands clasped tightly behind his back and the tails of his long, dark coat waving gently in the breeze. Far below him, a massive and expansive valley stretches out and brushes against the mountainous horizon. All is dark, gray, and foggy. The movements of the mist reveal a long-dry riverbed that cuts the dark vast in half as it snakes from one end to the other. Underneath the glowing lenses of his mask, his eyes are restless as they dart about, peeking inside and out of the darkened rubble far beneath his feet, combing the mists and the monoliths for anything worthy of his attention. His endevour ends in failure, however, as nothing dangerous, interesting, or even remotely eye-catching even waves at his vision, much less siezes it. And so he goes somewhere else. He closes his eyes, blows the dams of his mind and allows the resulting flood of thoughts and memories pool and grow until they form an ocean, deep and vast. He tests the water - it is fridgid, as always - and he slides in. He descends and swims among the reefs and underwater weeds. He floats near the surface for a while and then dives down deeper, far into the bottomless pits and cravasses and abysses. He lets himself go. He comes close to drowning inside of his own mind. But he is pulled up from the crushing pressure of the heavy seawater by a sound; five long and hollow tolls. He opens his eyes once more and his ocean is drawn back to its place, the dams uncrumbling and rebuilding. The vale far below him is still there, though it is no longer so dark and dreary; the mountains on the other side are being gradualy overtaken by a slow-moving and massive rising sun. It is still quite dim.