FAQ: First Lines
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writercisesoriginal posting: Sat, 2 Oct 1993 18:00:04 JST
FAQ: First Lines
The poet frowned, fingers posed as words swirled in his mind, almost but not quite right for this part of the glowing vision. Just then, the doorbell rang...
The factory seemed to come alive in the fitful dance of moonbeams through the cloudy overcast. Dark shadows lurked and stretched, making her glance up again and again to be sure the silent machines weren't moving, weren't reaching metallic fingers out to catch her. Then she glanced back...
Every day, the quotes changed. Read and passed by quickly, a ritual of inattention. Then one day, eyes locked to the short saying. The world seemed focused on the brief lines. It was...
A dark and stormy night folded over the tiny figures, exploding out of their inner storms into startled reality. As one angry mouth opened, lightning cracked. As another mumbled and glared, hard driven rain stuttered across them. Then...
The wheat was a golden carpet, embossed patterns revealed by the occasional light wind, the heavy heads glowing in the sunshine with their promise of food. The smell of hot, rich earth and baking yellow stems was a subtle perfume, pulling the farmers to their daily chores, sinking the land in a celebration of growth and peace. Those were golden days...
The Z-nine fighters spread out ahead of the flotilla, exploring and testing for danger with electronic senses. They swept over and past the small asteroid...
She stopped at a small inn below the castle, surprised by the ancient relic set in the foothills. The innkeeper told her it had no name, and suggested that there were far better places for an American tourist, places with guided tours and giftshops. She thought about it for a moment, remembering the crowds and Marley. Then she looked at the rocky pile lit by the evening sun...
(pssst! want to know how these and other stories end? want to write poems and tales of wonder or glee? Stick around. Writers has a place for you...)
First lines to last, rewriting, markets, poetry - put your own work out on display on Writers. We can make beautiful words together!
FAQ: First Lines
The poet frowned, fingers posed as words swirled in his mind, almost but not quite right for this part of the glowing vision. Just then, the doorbell rang...
The factory seemed to come alive in the fitful dance of moonbeams through the cloudy overcast. Dark shadows lurked and stretched, making her glance up again and again to be sure the silent machines weren't moving, weren't reaching metallic fingers out to catch her. Then she glanced back...
Every day, the quotes changed. Read and passed by quickly, a ritual of inattention. Then one day, eyes locked to the short saying. The world seemed focused on the brief lines. It was...
A dark and stormy night folded over the tiny figures, exploding out of their inner storms into startled reality. As one angry mouth opened, lightning cracked. As another mumbled and glared, hard driven rain stuttered across them. Then...
The wheat was a golden carpet, embossed patterns revealed by the occasional light wind, the heavy heads glowing in the sunshine with their promise of food. The smell of hot, rich earth and baking yellow stems was a subtle perfume, pulling the farmers to their daily chores, sinking the land in a celebration of growth and peace. Those were golden days...
The Z-nine fighters spread out ahead of the flotilla, exploring and testing for danger with electronic senses. They swept over and past the small asteroid...
She stopped at a small inn below the castle, surprised by the ancient relic set in the foothills. The innkeeper told her it had no name, and suggested that there were far better places for an American tourist, places with guided tours and giftshops. She thought about it for a moment, remembering the crowds and Marley. Then she looked at the rocky pile lit by the evening sun...
(pssst! want to know how these and other stories end? want to write poems and tales of wonder or glee? Stick around. Writers has a place for you...)
First lines to last, rewriting, markets, poetry - put your own work out on display on Writers. We can make beautiful words together!
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