Opening Lines

by Posted on

Add your opening line for this photograph:

IMG_6961

Liz: From my vantage point on the balcony I watched, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the Christmas melee below. I had a clean shot from up here and didn’t want to waste it.

Edith: Christmas, Shristmas. Wait’ll that fake cone-shaped tree pops. The explosion is gonna send everybody divin’ for the deck. They’ll be fishin’ for them hundred dollars bills as soon’s they look up, though. Hey, I’m not the Grinch. They don’t call me Old Saint Nick for nothin’.

Jessie: It used to be easier to arrive unseen every Christmas Eve. But ever since they invented the electric light crowds gather around my sleigh at least five times each night.

Sherry: His first mistake was wearing the khaki pants. They almost glowed in the dark. But that wasn’t really his first mistake, going after my family was.  Hopefully, with luck on my side, it would be his last.

Julie: “Wanna build a snowman” he said. Actually, he sung it to me every time I walked past him in the mall. Buddy, I get that dressing up like a snowman sucks, but really. Really? I’m old enough to be your mother. Listen, I told him to stop, but did he listen? No. But honestly, I have no idea how the surf board display fell on top of him. Surely, you don’t think I have enough brute force to make that happen, do you?

Barb: Busy as I was, I spied the surfboards below as I flew off in my sleigh. “One more day, and you’re on vacation,” I told myself. “Sun, sand, surf, here I come!” Just the pick-me-up I needed to get through the rest of the night.

Readers, give us your opening lines.

Published by Sherry Harris

Sherry Harris is the author of the Agatha Award nominated Sarah Winston Garage Sale Mystery series and the Chloe Jackson Sea Glass Mystery series.

13 Thoughts

  1. When I said I wanted a green Christmas, I imagined lying on a beach somewhere outside a luxury hotel. I didn’t picture being holed up in a flea infested room in wherever the hell I was.

  2. No chestnuts roasting, no Jack Frost nipping. Just a fake cone shaped tree with lights twinkling and some of lamp posts wrapped up like presents. I hate cold and snow. So why did I long to be back East, in the midst of a blizzard, instead of here in paradise? Then I spotted him. Mr. khaki pants. Maybe I’d make it home for Christmas after all.

  3. I came here to jump. It’s been all too much–first the divorce, then Aaron’s death. Then I saw her in the crowd below. Silvia! Oh, Silvia.

  4. I’d only be dreaming of a white Christmas this year. It felt so wrong to be looking out at people in shorts and no jackets on Christmas Eve. However, if I could just get away with this caper, I might make this tropical Christmas a permanent thing.

  5. I felt just like the Christmas tree in my line of sight – fake, dressed up and put on display for the world to fawn over. I would be lying to myself if I said I was used to it. I cringed internally every time someone recognised me, whispered behind my back or surreptitiously snapped a picture of me. I shivered as I waited by the surf shop, longing for the warmth and privacy of my hotel suite. The sooner this was over, the faster I could go back to pretending I was enjoying Christmas, as if all my troubles had magically disappeared thanks to a Santa who didn’t exist.

Comments are closed.