Last week’s challenge: “Antag/Protag.”
This is a two-part challenge.
First part of the challenge is a part we’ve done here before: opening lines. I want you to write the opening sentence to a story. That’s it. Just the opening sentence. Can be suggestive of any genre. Should be no more than 50 words (and even that’s pretty long — you’re best keeping it roughly at “tweet” length).
A good opening line is punchy. It may have a question implicit — or, at least, is itself a hook that will snare the reader by the neck and drag them into the tale whether he likes it or not.
Write the opening line.
Post it below.
You get one entry.
Your due date is — note this change — Thursday at noon EST (8/9).
Because then by Friday I will have picked my three favorite opening lines.
And each of those three people will get an early e-copy of BAIT DOG, the Atlanta Burns sequel. Three formats available: PDF, ePub, and MOBI. Oh, but we ain’t done yet, my little squidlings.
Then, your next challenge will be to write a story using one of those three opening lines as, well, the opening line to a piece of 1000-word flash fiction. More details next week.
Good?
Let’s read some opening lines, then.
Steve says:
Lazy smoke coiled off the cherry of her Marlboro Red like a serpent sliding silently from its den.
August 6, 2012 — 3:04 PM
Fredösphere says:
You wouldn’t bet the man with no legs and the woman with no tongue could beat the Mughlai gang when so many others had died trying, but they had once shown kindness to the Slaughterhouse boy, the one who talked to ravens, and that made all the difference.
August 6, 2012 — 3:29 PM
Johnt Woodbrough says:
Have you ever wondered what a soul tastes like? Probably not, but I’ll tell you anyway.
August 6, 2012 — 3:35 PM
T.A. Saunders says:
My laughter is the sound of a mind fragmenting with terror as I look upon the incomprehensible thing writhing in the dark and the realization that it has come at my beckoning.
August 6, 2012 — 3:37 PM
Cameron W. says:
The train was hibernating, dreaming in a tunnel somewhere in the bowels of Paris, slowly digesting its last meal of touriste americaine.
August 6, 2012 — 3:58 PM
Cari Hislop says:
The conference room stank of plastic chairs, cheap cologne and gun oil; that clean metallic scent that conjures up cross-eyed private eyes and fat women with lips like dog sleds who’ll do anything for a manicure.
August 6, 2012 — 8:12 PM
Sparky says:
I will never forget the first time one of my characters came to visit me.
August 6, 2012 — 8:50 PM
Jason Heitkamper says:
The city died weeks before I arrived, leaving only a sprawl of decaying buildings behind to greet me.
August 7, 2012 — 5:15 PM
Ashley says:
The lights went dark then hummed back to life and I could still hear the guy in room 12 trying to plead with the monsters under his bed.
August 7, 2012 — 7:08 PM
A.L. Cook says:
He collapsed to the floor, writhing in an unfortunately familiar pain.
August 7, 2012 — 11:10 PM
Jake H says:
The tower had begun its melancholic lamentation of the fallen; every toll called a soul to the afterlife – where I’d face them for a second time.
August 8, 2012 — 8:04 AM
John P says:
The ledge refused to reach out and hold on to the fingers of David Hansen’s left hand as his right arm grabbed the air behind him looking for something else, and yet David found it odd how impressed he was with the design of the hotel lobby that was 12 stories below.
August 8, 2012 — 1:43 PM
Mike says:
Mr Felix opened the jaws of his black leather case and with a magician’s flourish presented us an array of potions and herbal waters in jittery glass ampules, each carefully labelled by hand.
August 8, 2012 — 6:35 PM
Rich Magahiz says:
There were four shots left in the magazine but I was careful to save the last two.
August 8, 2012 — 9:14 PM
Jenna Bird says:
“Claribel? That isn’t much of a name for a hero.”
August 8, 2012 — 11:43 PM
Jeff Xilon says:
Watching the sun set for the final time, Tim couldn’t help but think it could’ve used more reds.
August 9, 2012 — 1:01 AM
Ashley Bob says:
The bone-chilling howl put every nerve in Anna’s body on edge, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at full attention.
August 9, 2012 — 1:21 AM
Ilona the Rose says:
Cherish your freedom, little brother, cos there’s no such thing as boredom in the Badlands.
August 9, 2012 — 5:48 AM
Julia says:
There wasn’t a single good tomato in the whole goddamn counter.
August 9, 2012 — 9:07 AM
Awena says:
No one did it anymore during those days, not after the army failed and things got really ugly.
August 9, 2012 — 9:09 AM
Callie says:
The pear exploded wetly against Mr Norris’ tweed jacket, juice glistening over leather elbow patches, globules of flesh spattering his suede loafers as he slowly stood up, a finger twitching rapidly against his thigh.
August 9, 2012 — 10:04 AM
Sam Kearns says:
The world boiled.
August 9, 2012 — 10:40 AM
Eric. H says:
“It was beautiful and sunny, the day she killed me.”
August 9, 2012 — 10:41 AM
John P. Murphy says:
Now, I’m not saying that it was the best idea, just that it was my idea, and if a man has nothing else in this world he ought at least have his goddamn self esteem.
August 9, 2012 — 10:43 AM
Misa Buckley says:
Of all the things I imagined myself to be, a war goddess hadn’t figured in the slightest.
August 9, 2012 — 10:45 AM
matt says:
Ada had resigned her faith years before, but missed the insulation of simple answers it had given her.
August 9, 2012 — 10:46 AM
Liam Hayes says:
She was amazed at how good the Angel’s flesh tasted.
August 9, 2012 — 10:47 AM
Gareth says:
Gravity failed.
August 9, 2012 — 10:48 AM
Nathan says:
He took a drag off his cigarette and leaned back in his chair: “You just can’t let ‘em know your true thoughts,” he said, looking with a dead stare, “‘cause then they’ll know – you know – that you’re a little bit … loopy.”
August 9, 2012 — 10:50 AM
Adam Short says:
“Clowns?” Marnie said, her brow furrowing in incomprehension.
“Yeah,” said Butch, “Clowns.”
August 9, 2012 — 10:51 AM
Peter Staff says:
She lifted her head as far as she was able until she could see the spattering on the cement wall.The sight of it no longer bothered her. The shadows that crossed it though…that meant they were coming back.
August 9, 2012 — 10:52 AM
Dawn Nikithser says:
The roses were bleeding, I was late for court, and my grandmother was in the butterdish again, right between me and my iced coffee.
August 9, 2012 — 10:53 AM
Brendan Gannon says:
Everyone else remembers it as the day the saucers came, but I remember it as the day a man in a suit shot my father.
August 9, 2012 — 10:54 AM
Josh Loomis says:
Cordite and blood left thick scents in the air as I fished my phone out; the sooner I called this in and got paid, the sooner I could get out of here and away from the goddamn suburbs.
August 9, 2012 — 10:55 AM
Guillaume says:
Burying half my wife in the backyard was surprisingly quite a piece of cake, at least until it started raining.
August 9, 2012 — 10:57 AM
Samuel says:
The cold corpse on the mortuary slab, pale, cold and redolent of embalming fluid, opened its scarred, greying eyes and screamed.
August 9, 2012 — 10:59 AM
Josh M. says:
“Wait, that’s not supposed to be there!” he thought, staring at the bloody knife blade protruding from his chest.
August 9, 2012 — 11:02 AM
Phil Norris says:
I smiled as I let his lifeless body drop, job done, case closed. Then came the roar and I looked up to see the sky dark with his spawn.
August 9, 2012 — 11:04 AM
JB says:
Shit.
August 9, 2012 — 11:15 AM
Amelia says:
Double rainbows–that’s how it all started.
(Actual opening line from my WIP, at least for now.)
August 9, 2012 — 11:21 AM
Mike Holm says:
Maggie, my dear sweet Maggie, I never meant for it to end like this.
August 9, 2012 — 11:36 AM
Samuel Schultz says:
They call midnight “The Witching Hour”, but there are much worse things than witches that come out at that time.
August 9, 2012 — 11:40 AM
David7118 says:
She knew, as soon as she heard the squeal of his brakes and the slam of the car door, that today would be the day she’d kill him.
August 9, 2012 — 11:45 AM
James R. Tuck says:
Brick or bat, it was really a question of how much blood she wanted to wash out of her blouse.
August 9, 2012 — 12:32 PM
John W Dye says:
It’s a poker game between Tyler Durden, Kakihara, Cool Hand Luke, and this fourth guy who you’ve probably never heard of before. That fourth guy is me, and I’m losing.
August 9, 2012 — 1:40 PM
Mike says:
Oops – missed the Thursday deadline
He grasped his end of the Adjudicator, nodded, and said, “On three. And one … two … “
August 10, 2012 — 9:39 AM
Sarah O'Hara says:
That was quick, but it did make me think.
October 12, 2012 — 4:08 AM