Hey everyone, first chance to post something for critique here, so I'm jumping right in 
This is the prologue to the novel, called Time Without End. I'm much more of a discovery writer, and I started with this and went through to the end. Eventually, I'm interested in how it compares to the opening of chapter 1, but that's a much longer piece of writing and I want to know basically if this would encourage you to continue reading or not. Obviously, I'm open to any other kind of input as well
Prologue
He peered over the edge. Twenty-five stories to the streets below, the streetlamps distant hazy pools, their halos barely visible through the driving rain. Quelling the urge to vomit, he grasped the far side of the ledge in front of him and heaved his torso up onto the parapet. The wall was low, just over chest height. The rooftop around him was dimly lit, harsh electric lights struggling to reach through the gloom. This was madness. Struggling slightly, he lifted one leg to catch the near edge of the wall and slid his hips up, prostrating himself lengthways. The rain was freezing, plastering his hair to his head, running in rivulets down his neck. His clothing was already sodden. Keeping his eyes fixed on the narrow space in front of him, he pushed himself up onto his knees. The top of the wall was covered in a light metal coating, hammered round the edges, smooth and soft looking. It loomed large as he tried to avoid looking at the gaping void to his right.
‘Come on! Get up! Face it! Let the fear run through you, ride it like a wave.’
Gritting his teeth, he lifted his gaze along the wall to come to rest on two muddied-white trainers a few feet away from him. His eyes flitted to his right and his world yawed wildly. His hands slid across the wet surface, scrabbling for purchase.
‘Stand up!’ His companion’s voice rang across the top of the apartment building. ‘This, it’s all in your head, you know you’ll be ok. Let yourself feel the rush, the thrill.’
The feet stepped closer, and his imagination ran riot, picturing the trainers skating off the edge. A hand reached down. Calloused and strong looking, but both the ring and little finger ended in short stubs just above the knuckle. Swallowing bile, he reached his own hand up, barely recognising it, and took hold, clinging like his life depended on it. Fear rocked his body as the hand pulled at him, heaving him upwards. He almost screamed. But he was standing now. His legs felt like jelly, and his feet did feel like they were on ice, shifting as if hovering above the metal. Water seeped through and around his shoes. He realised his eyes were closed. Opening them was a force of will he was surprised he found the strength for.
The face before him was weathered, hard-worn and lined, pale images of bruises recently healed scattered from forehead to chin. The nose had been broken, perhaps more than once, and looked swollen. Why was he focusing on these things? Passing things. Unimportant things. He turned to his right, and let his gaze roam out across the cityscape. Scattered lights lit some of the windows, within ghostly outlines in glowing red eyes warning aircraft. Even so, the night’s shadow, heavy clouds and the downpour kept the view minimal. Inexorably, his eyes drifted back towards his feet and the sheer drop below them. The rain twisted his perspective as he watched the drops pass him, his eyes tracking the falling water and momentarily freezing it in the air. It felt wrong, like transgressing time.
‘Enough, let’s do this!’ His companion jerked his hand outward, and he found himself half pulled and half stepping out into the void and then his stomach lurching into his mouth, terror locking his body rigid, a scream trapped in his throat and half choking him as the wind roared in his ears and scoured his eyes open wide, and he joined the falling rain, followed it down and down past a blur of glass and chrome, the warm glow of the street lights rushing to greet him and the insane laughter that rang through his head such that he almost thought it was his own before the street was there and the world exploded in red and black.
This is the prologue to the novel, called Time Without End. I'm much more of a discovery writer, and I started with this and went through to the end. Eventually, I'm interested in how it compares to the opening of chapter 1, but that's a much longer piece of writing and I want to know basically if this would encourage you to continue reading or not. Obviously, I'm open to any other kind of input as well
Prologue
He peered over the edge. Twenty-five stories to the streets below, the streetlamps distant hazy pools, their halos barely visible through the driving rain. Quelling the urge to vomit, he grasped the far side of the ledge in front of him and heaved his torso up onto the parapet. The wall was low, just over chest height. The rooftop around him was dimly lit, harsh electric lights struggling to reach through the gloom. This was madness. Struggling slightly, he lifted one leg to catch the near edge of the wall and slid his hips up, prostrating himself lengthways. The rain was freezing, plastering his hair to his head, running in rivulets down his neck. His clothing was already sodden. Keeping his eyes fixed on the narrow space in front of him, he pushed himself up onto his knees. The top of the wall was covered in a light metal coating, hammered round the edges, smooth and soft looking. It loomed large as he tried to avoid looking at the gaping void to his right.
‘Come on! Get up! Face it! Let the fear run through you, ride it like a wave.’
Gritting his teeth, he lifted his gaze along the wall to come to rest on two muddied-white trainers a few feet away from him. His eyes flitted to his right and his world yawed wildly. His hands slid across the wet surface, scrabbling for purchase.
‘Stand up!’ His companion’s voice rang across the top of the apartment building. ‘This, it’s all in your head, you know you’ll be ok. Let yourself feel the rush, the thrill.’
The feet stepped closer, and his imagination ran riot, picturing the trainers skating off the edge. A hand reached down. Calloused and strong looking, but both the ring and little finger ended in short stubs just above the knuckle. Swallowing bile, he reached his own hand up, barely recognising it, and took hold, clinging like his life depended on it. Fear rocked his body as the hand pulled at him, heaving him upwards. He almost screamed. But he was standing now. His legs felt like jelly, and his feet did feel like they were on ice, shifting as if hovering above the metal. Water seeped through and around his shoes. He realised his eyes were closed. Opening them was a force of will he was surprised he found the strength for.
The face before him was weathered, hard-worn and lined, pale images of bruises recently healed scattered from forehead to chin. The nose had been broken, perhaps more than once, and looked swollen. Why was he focusing on these things? Passing things. Unimportant things. He turned to his right, and let his gaze roam out across the cityscape. Scattered lights lit some of the windows, within ghostly outlines in glowing red eyes warning aircraft. Even so, the night’s shadow, heavy clouds and the downpour kept the view minimal. Inexorably, his eyes drifted back towards his feet and the sheer drop below them. The rain twisted his perspective as he watched the drops pass him, his eyes tracking the falling water and momentarily freezing it in the air. It felt wrong, like transgressing time.
‘Enough, let’s do this!’ His companion jerked his hand outward, and he found himself half pulled and half stepping out into the void and then his stomach lurching into his mouth, terror locking his body rigid, a scream trapped in his throat and half choking him as the wind roared in his ears and scoured his eyes open wide, and he joined the falling rain, followed it down and down past a blur of glass and chrome, the warm glow of the street lights rushing to greet him and the insane laughter that rang through his head such that he almost thought it was his own before the street was there and the world exploded in red and black.
