Okay, so I got some advice from a guy by the name of Inkedexistence to basically rewriting the opening prose and work on reducing my repetitive words. I have no idea what he meant by prose. Since I'm still kinda new to all of this. But I think he was right about my repetitive word choices.

Originally this story would begin with the history of the setting. But apparently that put people to sleep (paraphrased from Inkedexistence). So I wrote this for the opening and I want to know if it works for the premise and if its generally better than a history lesson I suppose.

The premise is that a God lusts after a college girl and eventually drags her into his realm. The God wants to court her and mate with her but, the MC isn't found of that. So the whole book if her trying to get out of the God's realm. But the catch is, the only way for the MC to escape is to speak with the ruler of the realm. The God.

It ends a bit abruptly. But then again, I did just write this to flow into the rest of the story. So please keep that in mind.

Anyway. I thank you for your critique. Its welcomed and greatly appreciated.

Someone very important to her had once said that a dream is beautiful, filled with potential and wondrous imagery. But a nightmare was far worse. It wasn’t merely the exact opposite of a dream. A nightmare is every mad thing ever thought up by men. All rolled into one horrendous amalgamation. That…was what her Grandfather told her.

Though he never explained how somebody knows if they’re having a nightmare. Or how to deal with such a horrid thing. Just what it is, and what happens after.

But she knew a nightmare. One, in particular, that etched itself into her head. It wasn’t her first, nor her last. It was vivid. She felt it every moment. That nightmare stuck with her.

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It always began the same. With her sitting on a wooden stool, playing the violin. She performed, for a crowd of faceless people in the dark. The only light was from above. A spotlight that shined only for her. For some time, she would fiddle on her violin. Until the crowd applauded. Cheering, whistling and laughing. All seemed well. Until the light would fade. When it did, she heard clapping. Slow, melodious and sinister.

Every time, she would try to run away. She never got anywhere in the dark. Eventually, when she was tired and sore. His hands would reach for her. Caress her. Embrace her. Then a burning sensation would start in her chest. One of his hands would pierce her chest and wrap its fingers around her still beating heart. Then pull it without mercy. Values, muscles and all. Red flow across her body, but not his hands. Nothing touched his hands. That mysterious man would crouch down and lick her left ear.

“You are radiant.” He would whisper in a whimsical voice.

While she gasped and sputtered. Suffer and struggle. Then pass out from the blood loss or pain. She never could tell. That was how it ended. Every single time she had that nightmare. Then she would always wake up. Usually in a cold sweat. Sometimes screaming. But not today.

This was Julia Williams, who had a class that morning. As well as a schedule to follow. So, she got dressed. Brushed her teeth. Got her books and bag. Then quietly walk out of her dorm room and head to class. Never dwelling on something silly and childish, like a dream. Or a nightmare.

Get up. Go to class. Listen to the lectures. Do your work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

Get up. Go to class. Listen to the lectures. Do your work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

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These were the rules of life for Julia Williams. The routine. The rules to be followed without hesitation. Without concern, without emotion or question. It was easy enough for the eighteen-year-old. Sure, some things fell to the side. Like her attire for instance. The quality clothing provided by her college hadn't been neglected. As in, her clothes hadn't been properly washed for a month. So it now appeared ratty and tattered on her skinny frame. Her hair was even worse. Often just a tangled, clumpy brown mess. Her brown eyes always had an underlying red tinge. Due to a lack of sleep. But after four years of this. It would all be worth it. At least, that’s what she told herself.

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