History of the Trap: Revised Prologue

As mentioned in an earlier blog post, I had submitted the novel to a contest, and in the review, the only real negative was about my prologue.  They had a point, in that the prologue was written much earlier than the rest of the novel, and I had a different idea about pacing and focus at that time.

I am continuing my attempts at revision.  This section here, the second of the prologue, completely replaces the discussion Dr. Duncan has with the Morgan's parents.  I'm trying to convey the most essential elements of that discussion, but in a much more succinct fashion, and putting them in a Morgan-centric point of view.

The next thing I have to deal with is that the third part of the prologue also centers on Morgan.  I have to edit for things I've already said in this section, and continue to look at what important plot points I may have missed in sections I cut out.

Any feed back would be appreciated.

2

Present Day

Once, she ruled them all.

She was the Queen Bee, and everyone buzzed around her orbit.  She was the Princess of Loren high, and there was no one she could not charm or entice.  She was the Siren, and no boy could resist her call.  She was the fashion maven, always impeccably groomed and coiffed, and hundreds of girls tried to emulate her style.

Every word she said, every breath she took, every gesture and nod, could the very fabric of reality for everyone around her.  She determined who was in and who was out, who was to be detested or tolerated.  No one questioned the ultimate superiority of Morgan LaDona Tigh.

But that was then.  Before the Trap. 

Now, everything was different.  Now, she waited in a jailhouse hallway, plainly dressed and stripped of makeup, pacing like a jungle cat, waiting to meet with a prisoner, waiting for someone the old Morgan would have considered a nothing, but now was her whole world.  She was going to meet Lance Martin, and she was determined to do whatever she could to help him, no matter the cost.

In her hands, she clutched a carefully wrapped package.

One of the two guards looked at her, eyeing her warily.  She smiled at him, trying to disarm his suspicion.  “It’s Razzbutt Fudge, Mr. Guard.  It was a favorite of Lance’s while we were trapped.  I made it just for him.  I even found wild raspberries right outside Gregor Park, just like the ones that grew in the Trap.”

The guard scoffed.  “You’re as crazy as he is.”

Morgan huffed up.  “Well, Mr. Guard.  That’s a terrible judgement.  Aren’t you supposed to be neutral?  Do you think Dr. Duncan would appreciate you expressing such opinions?”

The guard just shrugged and stopped looking directly at her.  Thank God, Morgan thought, that he didn’t decide to take a closer look at what she was holding.  That might put a huge kink in her plans.

She desperately wanted to see Lance, but her parents had blocked her every effort. They were puzzled by her change in personality, and blamed Lance for everything. 

Then, in a sudden reversal, her father, Eddie “Speedy” Tigh, after a talk with Dr. Frederick Duncan, the adolescent psychiatrist assigned by the state to evaluate Lance, Daddy changed his mind and allowed her to have a meeting with Lance.  Why?  She didn’t know.  Dr. Duncan must have thought it would help him in his analysis of Lance, but why Daddy suddenly went along, she wasn’t sure.  It must have had something to do with money.  He was a highly successful entrepreneur, with car dealerships, restaurants, storage facilities, and who knows what else. It was hard for her to keep track of everything he was into, and frankly, she wasn’t that interested.

They kept her drowning in material things.  As if that alone would keep her feeling loved and wanted.  At one time, she didn’t mind.  Now, it just made her feel bought off. Her father thought a new car would take her mind off things.  Her mother wanted to get out of Loren and spend time with her Aunt in Battle Creek, and go on spectacular shopping sprees with her. They didn’t know her anymore.  She had grown to care less about … things.

Before she was granted permission to see Lance, Morgan had a talk with Dr. Duncan.  She didn’t think he was a bad man. But she also didn’t think he believed her or Lance.  He knew something happened that night at the house.  And he knew, of those present, she was the last one to openly express an attachment and belief in Lance.  It was important to figure out why it happened the way it did, and some explanation for Lance’s behavior, besides simple cold-blooded murder.  He had come to believe that Morgan was the only one who could open him up, get him to explain whatever madness or fear lurked behind the delusion that some of the children (in her mind, of course, they weren’t children – they were survivors, and by all logic, should really be in their mid- twenties) were originally expressing.

But now, Lance had stopped talking to Dr. Duncan.  He was losing hope that he could help.  It was a last-ditch effort on his part, allowing Morgan in to see if she could help kick start him in to talking again.

She didn’t care what Dr. Duncan wanted.  She had her own ideas as how to help Lance.

And now she would get her chance.