The Prologue and the Epilogue in Fiction

 Both the prologue and epilogue are devices that help explain a complicated story.

A prologue appears at the beginning of a novel, and serves as an introduction to tell what has gone on before.  An epilogue appears at the end of the novel and tells what happened years after the story has ended.

It is not necessary to have both a prologue and an epilogue.  Many books have a prologue with no epilogue.  Others have both.  However, an epilogue is seldom used without a prologue.

The Prologue

A prologue is an introduction that is not quite a chapter. It is set apart from the rest of the book either in time or in viewpoint.  Its purpose is to provide necessary backstory for the novel which cannot be told in any other way.

A prologue may be used for dramatic effect.  A common use of the prologue in a thriller is to have the prologue either be in the villain’s viewpoint, or to start the story with a murder scene or crime in progress, an evil face peering into a window, or someone hearing the footsteps of a stalker. Then the novel begins with the detective or main character’s viewpoint.

The Epilogue-“And they Lived Happily Ever After…

An epilogue is a short piece tagged on to the ending that is usually not quite as long as a chapter.  Its purpose is to tell what happened long after the story has ended.  Often, it will tell whether the main characters married, had children, moved to a farm in the country. 

An epilogue is not necessary unless you have a novel that spans a long period of time or have an event such as a birth or a wedding that is not covered by the ending.  Often, in a historical romance, the book will end with a kiss, and the epilogue might start seven year after and tell that the couple married and had three or four children and lived to ripe old ages.  Facts the reader might want to know, but that take place far after the ending of the story.

 Use of a Prologue and Epilogue to Indicate a Span of Time not Covered in the Novel

In Mary Higgins Clark’s I Heard that Song Before, the prologue introduces the main character as a little girl who overhears a cryptic conversation in a hidden chapel on the Carrington Estates, of which her father is landscaper.  The first chapter begins with the same character as a grown woman.  She returns and falls in love with Peter Carrington, but what she overheard that night might be a clue to the murders her new husband has been accused of.  An epilogue tells the state of affairs a year later.   

Use of a Prologue and Epilogue to Span Years of History

In a novel that spans years or decades, a prologue might serve the purpose of  explaining  events pertinent to the plot that went on before the novel begins. For example, Robert Goddard’s historical suspense novel Name to a Face has both a prologue and an epilogue.  The prologue begin at an earlier time than the story takes place  Godfrey Schillingstone has discovered a mysterious secret he is about to reveal to the world, one that will bring him great academic fame.  But before he can show what his discovery, he is murdered.

The actual first chapter begins with another character, Tim Harding, who in modern times finds Schillingstone’s discovery has some bearing on a mysery in the present.

Here is a sampling of books with prologues and epilogues.

 

Dead Souls  Ian Rankin  (prologue)

The Associate Philip Margolin (prologue)

I Heard that Song Before Mary Higgins Clark  (prologue and epilogue)

Name to a Face Robert Goddard  (prologue and epilogue)

Cruel and Unusual  Patricia Cornwell (prologue and epilogue)

Christmas Mystery Writers Special! Sample Half a Dozen Authors for only .99c a Book! Three Days Only. December 4-6.

CHRISTMAS MYSTERY SPECIAL! 

Back by Popular Demand: Choose one. Choose some.  Choose all.  
FOR THREE DAYS DECEMBER 4th, 5th and 6th sample these selected author's books for only 99c a book!  CLICK ON THE RED BOOK TITLE LINKS ACROSS FROM THE AUTHOR'S NAME TO ORDER!

                                   

 A DANGEROUS HARBOR  by R P DAHLKE 

When Katrina Hunter is forced to shoot her sister's stalker, she takes the required leave of absence from the SF police department as her chance for a long over-due sail to Mexico. 
But when she discovers a floater close to her first port-of-call, she naturally does the right thing; she reports the dead body to the Mexican Navy. Except that doing her civic duty brings her into the Ensenada police station where she comes face-to-face with her unfortunate past. A past that could cause her to lose her hard won position as a detective in the San Francisco police department. 

MURDER AT THE MANSION by JEAN HENRY MEAD 

Dana Logan Grayson finds the body of her gardner in her yard. He's been stabberd but was he the intended victim? Her friend Sarah arrives from Texas to help her discover the killer and they flee for their lives to Texas and the Alaskan outback before the killer is discovered.

THE BIG MOUTH by JOHN KING

 A crime thriller about a well-to-do New Jersey man who foolishly brags about his wealth and high cash position to win a political argument at a holiday party. Big mistake. He might win the argument, but he loses the war. Seems not everyone in the room is as well-to-do or honest. In fact, some are downright criminal. Rex Jones’s big mouth makes him the target for a group of lowlifes who plan to use his wife, Lena, and daughter, Laurie, as leverage to extort his cash. Can Rex save his family? Does he even have the ability to go up against these violent thugs? 

DREAM OR DESTINY by LILLIE AMMANN

Marilee Anderson dreams about a murder and wakes to find it really happened. She and David Nichols, the victim's brother, become the prime suspects. Though they have their secrets and aren't sure they can trust each other, Marilee and David team up to find the killer in this psychic suspense.

MISTLETOE MEDIUM by ELIZABETH DELISI 

No sooner does psychic Lottie Baldwin pull up stakes and move to Cheyenne, North Dakota, than she finds herself up to her neck in a series of mysterious robberies. Can Lottie and the handsome new man in her life, deputy sheriff Harlan Erikson, solve the crime spree before Lottie becomes the next victim?

CRYING WOMAN BRIDGE by LORETTA JACKSON AND                                                             VICKIE BRITTON 

Haunted bridge, crying woman, missing baby!   While returning from Professor Dawson's lecture on haunted places, the last thing Sheriff Jeff McQuede and Dawson expect to encounter is a terrified woman clinging to the railing of Mirabella's Bridge, crying for her lost baby. It looks as if Rae Harris has thrown the infant over the bridge in a fit of despair, but she claims he has been stolen by a ghostly figure she calls Mirabella.

Read an Excerpt of our newest Jeff McQuede Mystery CRYING WOMAN BRIDGE

            From Chapter 1

           

            “Did you know almost every part of the country has a story about a ghostly woman and drowned children?”  In the Southwest the tale is called La Llorona.  Are you familiar with that legend?”  For a long while Professor Dawson had rambled on, but this time he waited for McQuede’s response.

            “Can’t say I’ve heard much about it,” McQuede replied.

            Dawson slowed the Cadillac and chose the shortcut to Black Mountain Pass where he was to address the historical society.  Seated beside him, Sheriff McQuede felt underdressed and undereducated—underdressed, because Barry Dawson looked every inch the professor in fancy western jacket that matched his carefully-styled iron-gray hair.  In contrast, McQuede looked rough and rugged in a rumpled suit jacket discovered in the back of his closet that certainly did nothing to enhance his broad shoulders, unruly black hair, and silvery eyes.  Undereducated, because all he had to balance the professor’s expertise on the subject of legends was the knowledge of a few local tales.

            “Many versions of the La Llorona story exist.”  Dawson, whose lectures seldom waited until he reached the podium, continued enthusiastically.  “But basically it goes like this: a poor but beautiful village woman attracts a wealthy lover who doesn’t know she has children.  She drowns her children to be with her lover, who then rejects her.  Realizing her mistake and feeling the anguish of her grief, her spirit cannot rest.  It is said that if you listen closely, you can hear her voice on the winds, calling for her lost children.”

            “There’s a similar story about the bridge up ahead,” McQuede remarked.

            “Yes, it is often referred to as Crying Woman Bridge,” Dawson said.  “In fact, I’ve included the legend behind it in tonight’s talk.”

            Wooden planks rattled beneath them as they started across the rickety structure.  The old bridge’s original girders had been supported by steel sometime in the 1930s.  Since the bridge didn’t get much traffic beyond a few locals using the back road to Black Mountain Pass, no improvements had been made since.

            McQuede gazed through the girders to the thick underbrush and deep water below.  At this point the Trapper River started its downward course, cutting through the high mountains on either side.  As a boy, McQuede had loved this spot, the rushing water, the obstructing rocks that caused rapids and whirlpools.  But with the sinking sun, it lost its allure and seemed cold and treacherous.

            “When I was in high school, the kids always gathered here to party.  But they were spooked by the place, too.”  McQuede leaned back in the car seat, recalling, “In the old days, it was called Mirabella’s bridge.”

            “That’s because,” Dawson explained, “according to local legend, a young pioneer woman named Mirabella got jilted by her lover and threw her baby over the bridge.”

            “All I know is that at night it is rumored you can still hear her wails.”

“Foolish superstition,” Dawson said.

            McQuede attempted to suppress amusement over his friend’s sudden seriousness.  “It’s a fact, for sure,” McQuede persisted, trying to keep the teasing out of his voice, “if you say her name three times, she will appear and bad things will follow.”  

            “Yes,” Dawson echoed, “Three calls and woe to you.”

            “Did you ever try it?”

            “Not brave enough.”  Midway across the bridge, Dawson stopped the car.  “But you are.  I dare you, McQuede.  Call her name three times, and let’s see what happens.”

            Dawson pressed the buttons that controlled the front side windows, and they slid open with an eerie, mechanical sound that mingled with the noise of rushing water.  A gust of wind from the canyon stirred their clothing and hair.  Instead of waiting for McQuede, Dawson called out in a voice loud and clear, “Mirabella!  Mirabella!  Mira—we’re going to be late,” he broke off suddenly, without finishing.  He promptly checked his watch.  “Too late for this nonsense.”

            Dawson, for the first time silent, stepped harder on the gas as they followed the twisting road.  McQuede’s friend always became too involved in these legends, so much so, that they often became fixed in his mind as solid fact instead of mostly fiction.  McQuede, noting the anxiety that had crept into the professor’s manner, couldn’t help smiling.

(from Chapter 2)

            “What’s wrong?”

            “Didn’t you hear that noise?”

            McQuede listened intently, catching what sounded like a distant voice drifting toward them from the center of the bridge.  As they drew closer, the cries became loud and terrible.

            McQuede’s blood froze.  A woman, shrouded by fog, stood squarely in the center—pacing, wringing her hands, shrieking.  Her long, dark hair swept in the wind as did her flowing skirt.  The darkness and wind made her look like the ghost of a pioneer woman.

            McQuede stared toward her, half-expecting the waif-like apparition to float away, but she remained, a solid substance, swaying and wailing.  Her words were now distinct.              “What will I do?  Help me!  Help me!  I don’t know what to do!”

            Dawson braked the car, and McQuede leaped out.  He rushed toward her, gripping both of her arms and holding her fast.  “What’s wrong?”

 She seemed not even to hear his question.  He followed her terrified gaze to the deep drop-off below them.  His voice rose above the gurgling of rapids.  “Talk to me!  What’s happened?”

            “Someone took him!  She took him!”

            McQuede shook her gently, hoping to restore her to her senses.  “Who took what?  What are you talking about?” 

            Tears streamed down her cheeks.  “My baby!  My baby’s gone!  She kidnapped him.”

            “What did she look like?”

            “I don’t know.  I don’t know.  She looked like a ghost.” 

            The more she spoke. the more unbelievable her story seemed.  “Where did she take him?”

            “She drove away.”

            Her words jolted him.  Could there be some truth to her rambling?  “Can you describe the vehicle?”

            She shook her head helplessly.  “She took him away in her dark, ghostly car.”

            McQuede’s attention turned again to the rapidly moving river.  His heart plummeted as he caught sight of a little blue blanket swirling around in the dark water.