So what do you all think of this as a prologue. Keep in mind it's supposed to be short and leave out details so that the reader gets interested and wants to know what's happening. I need some feedback because I'm no good at judging my own work. Be honest please.
A gust of wind flattened the hair to the man’s head and it was further plastered there from sweat. In front of him was a small, wooden table on which was a half globe of quartz and the basic tools for rock carving. He picked up a chisel and almost caressed the rough wooden handle he was so used to. The leather wrapped around the metal handle of the hammer in his other hand felt just as familiar. This was his life, he reminded himself. He was born to shape the shapeless rock into something wonderful and magnificent.
Staring at the half globe of smooth purple quartz, he held the point of the chisel as close as possible to the half line in the rock then brought the hammer down on the top of the chisel. The rock split into equal halves and he set the hammer down to push them farther apart. The first fat drops of rain splattered him, the ground and the other few men scattered around him. It started slowly at first but sped up as soon as his chisel began chipping away at one of the halves. His movements settled into a familiar rhythm as he let his magic and instincts guide his hand. The wind began strengthening until the thick clumps of grass around him began to flatten with each gust. Torches stuck in the ground in this small valley between the two hills blew out one by one until they were all plunged into darkness. He ignored it now that his magic had taken over and was moving his hands to the right places for him.
The first delicate yet unbreakable petals began to take shape from what he could tell in the faint moonlight. Then came the tiny stems of pollen that clustered tightly in the middle. The cactus flower in full bloom took shape quickly while the storm overhead continued to increase in it’s fury. Lightning flashed suddenly followed by the unmistakable peal of thunder. He begun to pant at the effort of keeping the steady pour of his magic into his masterpiece. No matter what creating this meant he still considered this his best work ever. He knew that he’d never see it again once he finished it, but still he poured his magic into the finishing touches. Once it was complete, he set the tools down and gently brushed off the dust with his fingers and grasped the other un-worked side of the quartz. Noting that the torches hadn’t yet been lit again he slipped silently from his seat and headed in the direction he knew was the steep slope that led to the desert. By the next flash of lightning his captors knew he had escaped, but he was swallowed up by the darkness and never found.
