Sintel the Novel: Prologue (repost)

Sintel: The Novel, is currently being reworked for a bettter storyline, more characters, and a glimpse of Sintel’s past.





Young Sintel was born in a small cottage on the outskirts of Ishtop. There, the forest was always green, quiet, and unforgivable. Her mother named her Sintel, which was Ishtonian for Blind Cylinder. Her father kept dragons out back. He wasa fair-looking man, but work was steadily working on his appearence, but still he kept himself in shape. He had a strange ability for calming dragons. Any dragon he came near would become docile. He used his ability to capture and raise them outside the cottage. They served a number of purposes: fodder, friendship, and in desperate cases, food. Sintel was three years of age and old enough to understand friendship. She had birthed a friendship with the smallest dragon in the bunch, but her family’s food stock was running low. By this time her mother was pregnant again with a little boy (or so they assumed).

“Maman, the little dragon is flying!”

She called her mother outside and they watched as the little dragon flew in circles. Her mother smiled and laughed, and Sintel herself coukdn’t refrain from a joyous laugh. It wasn’t so joyous that night. The candle on the table would hold a flame that seemed to mock all of Sintel’s worries. Her mother was becoming weak from the low food ration and she was six months pregnant. She held onto her mother, letting a few tears slip. Her father came in from outside, and was sweating from the unbearable heat. He saw Sintel and her mother sitting at the table, both of them crying.

“Rinne…you’re so pale!” he immediately rushed to her and held her hand.


Sintel glanced up at her mother and said, “Maman, please don’t cry.”

Her father withdrew from Rinne’s side and went outside. Sintel followed him like the sweet little girl she is, and asked him, “Papa, where are you going?”


There was no answer from him.


He went to the dragon pen and carefully picked up the smallest dragon, whom had been napping with the other dragons.  Sintel’s eyes widened, and she shouted, “We can’t eat him! He’s my friend!” She ran to her father, crying with sadness and her heartbeats pounding, and she tried to grab the dragon from his hold.

“Don’t kill him!” she cried loudly, “he’s my only friend!”

“We have no choice, Sintel. Your mother is extremely sick and malnourished, I can’t let this go on any longer!”

“Go to town! Go and buy her something!”

Her father bent down to her level and whispered in a desperate, slightly angered, hushed tone, “You know our situation, Sintel. This is our only choice left. Please, hush.”

He walked into the little makeshift shed by the trees, and she watched through the holes in the wooden gate. All she could see was his shadow, and a sharp sound. She ran back into the house and hid under the table. Under there, she hid away and unleashed a waterfall of tears.

When her Father came back in, she could smell freshly cooked meat. She slowly rose up, human instinct and hunger taking over. He had to feed the food to Rinne, whom was too tired to open her mouth, but surely she had to. Sintel took small bites, and with every gulp she felt her body shiver. That little dragon was in her now.

Life was unforgiving from the start. A few weeks later, when Rinne was finally getting her strength back, there was a raid on the small cottage. Sintel was in her room when they broke down the door. They were from the main city, and were past communicators with her Father. They were Ishtop’s unofficial leaders. They sent raiders to do their dirty work. Sintel rushed downstairs and saw her mother on her back, pinned to the floor, and gazing worriedly at Sintel. The little girl hid by the wall, and she saw her mother decapitated by a gruff looking man whom held her down by the neck. He used a primitive blade to cut her life short.

It wasn’t safe inside. Sintel made her escape out the window, and was sure the raider had seen her. She ran to the trees, hoping they would provide safe cover. From there she watched the terror unfold. The dragons in the pen were being strapped down with strong ropes and beheaded like worthless animals. A whine slipped from her mouth, and she saw her Father being taken away out of the house, his arms bound by rope. One of the raiders threw a torch at the house, and the fire spread like a virus. It dangerously engulfed the cottage in a hell of flames. Sintel slouched down against the tree and gazed at the sky aimlessly.


“Let me go!”


Her father’s shout had drawn her attention from the sky, and she saw one of the female raiders planting a wooden pole into the Earth’s ground. All ten of them tied Sintel’s Father to it, and without an ounce of remorse, without an second thought or a flinch, they set it ablaze. His screams filled the midsummer night, causing night animals to flee. Sintel covered her mouth and cried. Before retreating into the forest, she saw the face of the head-leader of the Raiders. Life had betrayed her again.





PART 1,2 and 3 have already been posted, but will be updated with new material to expand the story. I can’t think of a name for her Papa, so he will remain nameless.




One comment

  1. Wonderful views on that!

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