WordSmith discussion

Hi everyone, for a bit of fun I've started a new "activity." Use this forum for your awesome first liners...the first sentences or first paragraphs of your unfinished stories. First lines are one of the most important aspects of any story...does yours hook the reader from the very beginning? Please Post and see what others thinks.

I've included some of my own. Do they grab your attention?

You see in those days we spent too much money and cared about the same. We burnt it up at the start and forgot about the end. A linger, and then a crawl we came to the finish line. But nothing’s waiting for us.

Summer like this, I braid seashells into my hair and tattoo salt wind onto my skin. My body is made of sand and I lie in the sun, rays streaming off like propeller blades, shadow then light as clouds pass over.
Summer like this I think everything is perfect. Could be perfect if only we let it be what it is.

To be honest, I’m not. So I wouldn’t take my word for it. For what happened I mean. People think they know the truth but they don’t. How can they? I don’t think I even know what happened. But does it matter?
This is my story. I’ll tell it anyway I want. It may be a lie, it may not be.
You decide.
I’m just going to tell you how I died.

:) These are awesome, Hey_Jude! I'm assuming there is more somewhere? I especially like the last one.

Here are some of mine, though they really don't compare (mine are definitely still in progress)...

Hundreds of arms paddled through the icy water, seeking the sun of the desert, and the warmth of solid ground. Gasps shuddered through the air with each stroke of every powerful limb. The faces of the deceased could be seen drifting on the face of the water, colliding with those still frantically swimming to the land in the distance.

------

The clotheslines loomed over the intersection of alleyways, clothing hanging from the heights, drying in the wet breeze that blew through the narrow streets. The sky loomed over the alleys, clouds rolling in with the vicious ferocity of an angry god. The landscape bleak from the sudden onslaught of the waves of darkness flooding the alleys, the woman huffed at the prospect of running through the alleys in the darkness of the encroaching night. She felt her skin rippling from the coming rains.

------

A foul curse rang out as the sound of breaking bone rang out in the alleyway. The curse reverberated off the walls of the two desolate ex-mansions that formed the tight walkway. Even the ghosts, making up their permanent residence amongst the tattered curtains and termite eaten wooden doors, flinched at the sudden disturbance in the alley.

------

The baby let out a startling, shrill cry, its vision darkened by a dense cover.

------
“Lesbur! Please! What about my life? What about how I feel? I always stood behind you, not matter the cost! Please, leave my ability to me!” The man was being pushed up against a dirty, grimy wall, his hair compressing up against his scalp at the feel of the stone behind his head.

------

And these last three are for the same story (still deciding on how to begin it):

“Who are they?” the boy inquired.
“Who?” the caretaker responded.
“The Jepoda?” asked the child.

Doctors can be many things. They can be helpers or decievers. They can be helpless, they can be all-powerful. They can be rude, attentive, caring, compassionate, or mean. But they are always conscious beings.
These thoughts ran aplenty through the mind of the white-coated figure looking through the one-way glass. He stared, his bare chin pointed out in wonder as he analyzed the child. The orphanage wanted the boy checked out. Why, he did not know. He continued to observe the boy.

“Nick?”
Nick internally winced at the boy’s irksome insistence. He was enjoying his momentary peace in his cushioned chair, where he sat using his arm to block out the lights that permeated the entire room. He was supposed to be watching the boy, but he’d been at it for three days straight with little sleep as he had to stave off the other orphanage boys from attacking the small child. Needless to say, he was exhausted and needed rest.

Hi Shelly, these are awesome...the first three made my skin crawl...I hope you have more. For your last three, I really like the one where you used dialogue to begin the story. It really captures the reader's interest.

(Thanks for the compliments by the way:D Yes, the last one is the only one that I have a lot written. I might post some here. I'm not sure. Glad you liked it though.)
Most of the time I get a really good beginning but the story itself fades away. here are some more examples.

The man looks down at me.
“What is your name?”
“Marielle Bonnet.”
“How old is she?” He says to Mama.
“Eight.”
“Non.” He shakes his head. “She can’t be more than five.”
“She’s eight.”
I stand between them on a rickety porch with rickety lawn chairs, rickety trees and a rickety fence. If the wind decides to blow it would blow this house away. It would blow us away.

_

My brother searches for God through the window, his face pressed to the glass.
“You won’t find him there,” I say. “It’s not a church.”
“Mama says he’s everywhere.”
“What does she know?”

_
It happened on the lake. We sat in the boat. Water lapped against the sides, we bobbed like corks in a storm. I wore a hat low over my face, she wore a scarf, bright devil red and lipstick that matched. The sun was too hot, scorching the back of our necks. We sat with our spindly legs spread to the bottom of the boat with the funeral fans, black paper.
I thought about pushing her over.

Hey_jude and Shelly, your first liners definitely captured my attention and held it. They're all amazing:) Here are some of my own:

They say that just before death sweeps in to claim you, your life flashes before your eyes. That wasn’t the case for me. It’s the strangest thing when the life you never had flashes before your eyes. A crippling shock weighed upon me, my bones nearly snapping beneath the burden.

I’m fine, you say. Nothing’s wrong.
Lies.
I see through you and your dead words.
I see through the layers of skin, of bone, straight through to your inner core. I see your heart beating, raw and bloody. I see your bleeding lungs constricting and expelling. Slow painful breaths.
I see through the thin layer of skin and solid bone. I see your brain, crumbling and shattering into a thousand shards during a final attempt to feign happiness.

An avalanche of words tumbled from his tongue, burying her in fear and terror. The air closed in around her, starving her lungs of oxygen.

Images are blurred when seen through bloody eyes.

This morning marks the anniversary, the anniversary of two people dying. Death crept upon them with the stealth of a lioness stalking its prey. Had they known what fate held for them that morning, would they have savored their last moments together?

Betrayal hit like a crushing blow to my head. Blinding white light seared my eyes.

Hate sticks the barrel of a shotgun into my mouth and pulls the trigger. Chunks of brain and flesh splatter the wall behind me. Deceit plunges the blade of an axe into my chest and sneers as blood surges from the ugly wound. Love drips poison on the tip of my tongue and results in my innards shriveling and hardening into black rock. Emotion. Once it seizes control it attacks full force, hacking and slashing until nothing remains. Emotion. What is it for, if not to control?

Wow Memory, that's all I can say. Your writing is very raw and intense. Stunning and speechless. I love all of them...ALL of them. I sure hope some of those are stories cause I can't wait to read them!

WOW!!!!!!!