Opening Lines

Here’s our Opening Lines–mysterious presence edition. Readers: Add your opening lines.

Photo by Bill Carito

Barb: I shivered in the eighty degree heat.

Edith: As if the slick of the rain and the blue lights triggering my PTSD weren’t bad enough, when the apparition showed up, too, I had no choice but to scream.

Julie: I walked into the bikers’ bar, and ordered a Shirley Temple. “Extra cherries,” I snarled.

Jessie: The cops who investigated my wife’s death said they couldn’t prove it but they knew I’d gotten away with murder. With the way Pauline still dogged my every step, the truth was, I hadn’t gotten away with anything.

Liz: It had to be the heat shimmering off the pavement. I wasn’t ready to share the alley with a ghost, so I refused to acknowledge the face hovering over me.

Sherry: He sat with his arms crossed guarding his beach bike like he thought he was a tough guy. I couldn’t wait to test how tough he really was.

Readers: Add yours in the comments!






25 Thoughts

  1. The popular bar thought it was a good policy to only serve customers that did not bring a car, but was it the motor cross driver that did the deed? Clearly he was a nonconformist, but dies that make him a murderer?!?

  2. I came to see where my daughter and her boyfriend were killed, I didn’t expect to see her and have her tell me it wasn’t an accident!

  3. A sudden chill struck me. I looked over and there, gliding by, with his pony following him, was the ghost of Bikeless Barry. Shuddering, I took another pull on the wine bottle. When I looked up again, he was gone. But in the middle of the alley lay a steaming pile of pony droppings.

  4. As I approached the row of bikes in the ally, I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Then it was gone in a blur. I shrug and strolled on.

    I wished I’d known then what a huge mistake I was making.

  5. My head ached as I stumbled forward. The alley swam before my eyes. The man who’d bumped into me earlier was leaning against the wall, waiting; right in front of the beach bike I’d always been so proud of; leering, smirking.

    The last thing I saw was his face looming over mine as I lay on the dirty, wet alley pavement. They found my body on the beach the next morning, buffeted by the waves. I’d make him pay for killing me, one way or another.

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