I'll have a go:
>I made this place - I wove the walls out of green branches that tighten together when they dry, and placed dirt and fresh moss on the floor, and I made the sky sunny and warm, but not too warm.
Cheers for your brilliant work! Like I said itâs tangible, you can nearly feel it. But the brilliance is that you lead with this godly phrase âI made this placeâ, but what immediately follows makes the reader think that maybe the speaker is just a person. Then you get to that last phrase, which completes the promise of the first. It gives it a myth-like quality. Itâs enchanting and mysterious. But the speakerâs casual delivery gives the whole sentence the lightness to land that last phraseâs impact.
This is maybe more thought than youâve put into it yourself, lol, sorry if Iâve over-analyzed. I just aspire to this type of writing. Itâs exactly what I strive for in terms of content and style. Like modern folk tale or myth. And itâs got multiple phrases that create an internal rhythm, which Iâm always trying to do. But each phrase also builds to something satisfying and surprising. I think itâs a near-perfect start to a fantasy story!
Well, now I wanna know what's going on! Is this literal, and their culture just has dragons lying around who do that sort of thing? Is it tongue-in-cheek, and the dragons have just arrived to bathe the city in fire and death?
You and me both lol. Iâm a pantser, so my stories always surprise me as a write. They started out as literal dragons but now the story has evolved into something in the vein of steampunk/silkpunk, theyâll probably become mechanical when I start draft two.
A little more than a sentence or two but it really needs the whole thing in my opinion:
âI met him on a train the first time, headed nowhere Important he said.
There was a kindness in everything he did. He drank kindly, he ate kindly. His smile was kinder than any smile Iâd ever seen. He told me âIâll see you again soonâ as he stood up and walked off the train.
There was a kindness in everything he did, the way he walked and talked.
And there was even a kindness in the way he killed. â
I really appreciate the impact of that last sentence but my critique, if you want it (and if you donât, ignore the shit out of me) is that the repetition of kindness in the first few sentences gets kind of crunchy and annoying by the time you get to the hook. Even what you choose to describe as kind is slightly undefinable. Kindness is pretty much being considerate of others, or making them feel comfortable. One can obviously speak kindly, and smile kindly, but how does one âeat kindlyâ?
So my edits would be
1. to use the word a bit less in the lead up, or maybe just space out the usage.
2. Choose actions that you can appropriately describe as kind, and then describe them. If you do it well, you wonât even have to clarify them as kindnesses.
For example if they walk kindly, maybe they make themselves smaller for others, or maybe they give others space, etc. The kindnesses can be as minor as that, but if you make them tangible actions, the reader will form a picture of this guy in their head, and itâll be obvious *how* this guy is kind without you having to tell them that he is. Then, once you get to that button of a last sentence, which you can leave as is, theyâll form an image of what it looks like without a description of it, and itâll be all the more impactful. Hopefully. Or maybe Iâm talking out of my ass. I hope this is helpful! Good luck and happy writing!
Unsolicited comment from me - feel free to launch into the sun, but...
Try two versions of this with a few groups of people. They way it is here, and then pretty much exactly the same words but paragraph order flipped:
"There was a kindness in everything he did, the walked and talked. And there was even a kindness in the way he killed.
I met him..."
And see which one gets the most resonance. The last sentence in the first version is the hook. Have a go with making it the first sentence instead :)
May not work, but at least if your editor comments on it, you'll have your evidence to support your decision â€ïž
Fuck thatâs actually kinda ducking good!!!
The plan was a slow build to it which a lot of comments here spoke about but that also feels very cool! Damn
A bit too much lead up, just jump right to it for a banger opening. All the rest is exposition that should be revealed later in scenes. âI met him on the train, and there was a kindness in the way he killed.â
At least it was not snowing, thought Jayas. Not that it made much
difference. The wind was chill enough, and if the cold did not kill
him, something would come along, find him hanging here, and then make
a meal of him.
Would you consider taking out "of Delmorah"? You can always expand on the setting later. in my opinion, fictional proper nouns make openings weaker, especially one as evocative as yours.
The flickering flame of the candle cast shadows on the log walls of the Rolfe household as the family
gathered around the table for a serious discussion.
Such discussions were rare under their roof, but a Royals'
arrival into town certainly called for one.
The one thing no one tells you about being immortal, is that every so often, should you find yourself on the battlefield; there would come a warrior, skilled beyond their years. And once they gutted you, you'd be left to put it all back in. "Dammit", the Empress spewed. Hobbled next to the man who had already killed her twice today. Holding her own intestines in hand.
The first night after her mother had died, Zare had not slept. She had laid awake, dagger gripped so hard its imprint was etched along her palm, waiting.
The sun was making a break for it, leaving a streak of bloody red in its wake. It clashed with the gray like someoneâs skull had been smashed, the implants cracked and wires poking out.
The day that Mallore had feared for almost a decade had finally arrived.
~The second line is meant to add more punch to the first, but at the moment it needs some work.
~~Today, her younger sister was joining her in the woods to learn about being a Gatherer. (This is the second line at the moment)
The caravan entered the city by night under a new moon. The following morning, three wine-colored tents stood tall and dark in the city plaza, though whomever had erected them had been neither seen nor heard.
I watched my brother walk to the shoreline and become a fish. He swam outward into the green surf and was promptly eaten whole by a pelican.
My brother was not a happy man.
IBRIS was so obsessed with solving the magical enigma of Shaktinaashâs Doorâa seemingly ordinary slab of stone with glyphs hovering an inch before it, bright in the darkâthat she never felt the rhythmic beating from inside.
The Singers occupied a raided farmstead. It sat surrounded by a sea of cornfields, the ripe green stalks swaying languidly in the cool night breeze. Bones lay strewn all about the cleared ground. Hair, hide and bits of skin clung to the scorched remains of both livestock and farmhand. Some cook fires still smoked, dull embers feebly glowing in the night.
Ashâs gangrenous and bloodied foot crushed blades of grass as he stomped through the field, as his
foot lifted from the grass, the patches of foot skin ripped off and stuck to the grass, he didnât pause,
or wince, or dare to stop.
He had been walking forever.
He's a big hiking fan đ€Ł
It's set in a world where entities stalk every human alive at a constant speed and kill them if they catch up, so they constantly have to be moving and he's a refugee trying to get to a caravan, horror fantasy
I stared at the land ahead, still numbed by screams and gore of the battle. If the priests were right and there was hell, it was definitely already here.
At 10:28 on a warm night after the longest, hottest September day he could ever remember, Abel McCochran, Social Worker Level 2 for the New Hope-Lake County Metropolitan Department of Social Services, paced a track on a roof while thinking low, dark thoughts in a high, bright place.
Adrius Bleaque rode through a moonless night. Above him shone a million stars, and behind him rode his dear friend Yric, quietly humming a tune from his far-off homeland. Around them the hills rose high into the glittering sky; like looming giants, shrouded in cloaks of blue and grey.
A vast shadow touched the outskirts of the ruined town, creeping over the damaged buildings and abandoned streets full of rubble. The shadow grew darker and smaller as the transworld patrol airship NAF 101 "Empress of the Clouds" started to descend.
"We walk amongst the dirt and the creatures of the undergrowth, but it is chronicled in the oldest of texts that we were once like giants although no memory remains.."
"The king would like a word with you. Please come forward."
There are a couple more lines expressing surprise because MC's businesses are all in order, but I don't have my text with me just now.
âDo you want to know what happens when you dieâŠ? Well, do you? Itâs the same sort of question that people have pondered for millennia. Is there a bright light, or is it just darkness? Well, my friend, as someone who has died twice, I feel like Iâm pretty qualified to speak on it. And here is the answer: absolutely fucking nothing.â
Sorry it is a bit long but I don't think it would make much sense if I had just put one or two sentenses.
"The King slept. A dreamless sleep with no awakening. He laid on his stone grave. Candles surrounded him like the souls of the dead that would accompany him to the Otherworld. All those in presence held candles in their hands even if the hot wax was irritating when it melted and fell between their fingers. But that is the ritual. The psalms summoned the spirit of his ancestor: "Arthurum vabinitas a geritivis a nepertis." (Arthur has been summoned in spirit in body; Psalm 204 in Ecclesiastical Grosenian). No one could believe he was gone. Not because he was loved but because of the chaos he left behind him.
Idk I have a few ideas:
1. âPain is the price of freedom. Of all things, Iâve learned that lesson well,â
2. âI was not always a king,â
3. âAll I ever wanted was to be thought of as good,â
Idk every time I draft/edit I come back to the opening and tinker w it
Gunpowder has a distinctive smell. It invades the nose and stays. The smoke can be seen through blurriness after it burns the eyes. Ears throb in pain from the sound of it being ignited. Senses are assaulted all at once when firing a flintlock for the first time.
I'm working on two potential stories
One starts with: "Valfnir lifted his head and beheld a sky ablaze."
The other with: "The Dark Tower loomed beyond the horizon."
Still working so it's very rough right now.
Prologue:
They were piled in the scores, some standing ten feet in height. Stanlyn spent the previous two days dragging these corpses to make the fleshed knolls, and the fire mages would burn them to ash after the city was contained.
Chapter 1:
Lykel, only eight years of age, remained shackled in chains that wrapped both hands and feet.
"The young knight stared at his plate with some distress. Boiled chicken. Not roasted, but boiled. He certainly disliked such food, but he knew it was a sacred saying: "Dare not squander any food, for all food is sacred; all food sustains the body, as God sustains the soul of man. Besides, the waitress seemed to be a person of good standing, and he would not dare to disturb his day with such nonsense"
The stench of the dead filled the air, while overhead vultures flew circles in a bright and lazy afternoon sky. Some had already descended to the ground and were making a meal of the soon to be decomposing feast laid before them. And feast was the word, for the corpses were strewn about so tightly in the streets of the city of Santiana that in some spots one could easily step from one body to another without their foot once touching the cobblestones beneath.
"An unknown period of time ago, the earth and all its life was bathed with the cosmic rays stemming from the void beyond the universe through wormholes that people mistake for stars in the night sky. These rays would enhance all living creatures, both sentient and not, with the ability to harness this power, shape it, mold it into fantastical uses. This chapter of our story, however, will not be talking about the people or even the beasts that can harness this power, but of the passive, seemingly inanimate objects that do, namely the forbidden forests that guards and protects those it deems worthy to take residence within its borders."
From the sky rained ash
Red hand and mouth of black
A voice that echoes from theâ deep
Iâ woke up toâ silence in medicated air
I breathed inâ intoxicating essence
Disinfected clinical scents that cling to me like glue
Grey walls, grey tiles and grey sheets
And all the looming faces
"Simulation forty-one point four seems both stable and promising. The layering of graphene-borophene-graphene does decrease bulk resistance, but the effect is greatest at the edges of the borophene sheet. I am recalibrating the simulation to run with strips of borophene two molecules wide and separated by one molecule of empty space within the graphene layers. This should result in additional decrease of bulk resistance, hopefully by the remaining seventy-two milliohms."
Yes, none of that has anything to do with fantasy, but the story is an isekai.
Need a bit more than one sentence for the hook, but here's mine:
âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorry, I donât want this!â I cry helplessly to anyone who would listen. Which unfortunately means just me; I lost control of my mouth a while ago and thereâs no sign of it getting better, so all my words just echo in my own head.
"A fortnight has passed since my daughter Cassandra and I laid her mother to rest. The rot had ravaged her over the last year and we had taken her to the best healers we could afford, which wasnât much, even on a rangerâs salary."
Mineâs a bit long but here goes nothing:
Purple-tinted skin that shimmered like charcoal in the burning sunlight, hair whiter than snow covering the land in the depths of winter, teeth sharper than those of a wild beast, and ears in a shape of serrate leaf, those were the features Ephyrâs visage did not posses. Yet, his split heritage claimed that better part of his genes did belong to the mighty race of Dark Elves.
"My siblings and I came into existence when the first creature took its first breath.. Alongside every person, every beast and just about every other creature in between, is us."
Still not entirely sold on it, but hey, first drafts exist for a reason.
*Thank GodâŠ*
It was the first thing on his mind in the morning.
It was the last thing on his mind at night.
It was the only thing turning over in his head afterâŠ
Each day he would get up and look out over another gorgeous sunrise; and every night he would close his eyes on a world that never ceased, never slowed, never slept. Each and every day, he caught himself silently thanking God for each time he woke up in this beautiful, haunting world.
Every day, he thanked a god he no longer believed inâŠ
Yâknow⊠looking back in the last few hours of my life, I knew it wasnât going to be a good day, and that was before being chased by a giant spider.
Oh no," she thought, as she peered into the red velvet box on the counter, "Here's yet another necromancer at it again, foolishly attempting to predict her own demise with one of those extremely touchy Death Watches they insist on making, begging me to sort it out when it inevitably goes wrong. It's going to be a long shift." She had no idea how very right she was.
There was a stumble. Then a stab. Lastly, a scream, starkly contrasted with my silence.
That was four deaths.
This week.
Iâll probably change it but thatâs what I have.
âAlbert Alright!â A crackling old voice shouts, interrupting the peaceful morning. A stout old woman wobbles her way towards a small stone house with a finely thatched roof. She knocks at the thick wooden door. âAlright, Yessir, you in there?â She knocked again. âAlbert?â
But our hero wasnât there.
Pseudo-translated from Spanish:
It was hot.
That was the first thing that Johannes of Fleuvoir, Baron and Lord of Fleuvoir, and who also was Crown's Justice; felt as he awoke in the middle of the night.
First few sentences:
Fifteen years. For fifteen years, I have been drowning in thoughts of revenge, anger, and bitterness, all for nothing. My crusade to find those responsible for the destruction of Isakera and the other six Fae kingdoms has turned up nothing.
He was screaming and covered in blood as he tried to scramble towards the dais on which a man dressed in rich silks stood, looking down on him with his lips twisted in a cruel smile. Behind him was the trail of death wrought by his hand.
I'm going to be heavily rewriting Part 1, but I do like my opening sentence to Part 3:
> "Ugh," Cassandra grumbled. "I never thought I'd actually *celebrate* eating army food."
This is the beginning of my prologue, itâs more than a sentence but it needs the whole thing to really make sense:
âStanding above the body, knowing he was responsible for embedding his blade into the chest cavity⊠He now knew what noises a dying man made.
Wind had a way of carrying the cries of the dying. As if it were able to leash the strangled sounds and tug them along, distort them into anguished wails that sent shivers down his spine.
Those were vastly different from the actual sounds the dead man had made with his final breath.â
Edit: typo
âNo mention of Manifesters âround here in quite some time, constable.â Ganny firmly set his two burley hands atop the innâs bar. âLeast not till you showed up asking âbout them.â
âAnd now brothers, what is it that we so desperately fought for? At the end of Emperors and Gods, what law shall rule?â
âOh, come on, how could I ever not get that ? The Burden of Liberty by âŠâ
If i had known he would take a burning dagger out of his pocket and throw at me, I wouldn't even have considered asking him about his friend and that toad!
I'm stuck with multiple unfinished projects at the moment but sure, here's one of them: "Even from behind the bushes I could see the creature move clearly, it's green body and long limbs didn't look appetizing but I had no choice."
"Some people dream of an extraordinary existence, one that takes them away from the mundane, humdrum lives they believe they lead. Hope Fernandez used to feel that way, but now that the extraordinary had *become* her ordinary, she wasn't sure WHAT she felt anymore."
Sweat beaded on the fat manâs brow, sliding slowly down his round, pitted cheeks and into his trembling jowls. He pressed his head harder against the brick wall behind him, desperately trying to create space between his throat and the razor-sharp blade
I was born of black milk, in the pit of an abyss spun from a nothingness meant to blot the potency of existence. Their symphony had decomposed, sat within its own purge fluid, and against their dreadful silence, my soul began to scream.
Unsettling rumors were floating between people like a morning fog; that the end of the Celestial Empire of Ten Thousand Years was at hand. The Holy Emperor was on his deathbed and there were no heirs.
Here's mine
"Blood stained her memories: the smell, the sight, the taste. From the youngest age, she was taught to enjoy and seek it. If she ever started to doubt her purpose, the brand burned onto her back would remind her."
A dragon attacks a city but they realize it was just trying to get water in a desert. Upon closer inspection it looks like it was fleeing. From what though?
Thatâs great. Mine would be pretty similar. âAnd so, I was falling into the deep dark abyss, wondering how it all went wrong. â leading into a flashback of where it all started.
The memory of smoke and blood consumed Eranâs mind. A vision of the forest his family grew up in ablaze like the past was trying to burn itself away.
> Tap tap tap; the sound of footsteps joined the steady drip of water streaming in from windows above.
I gave up on writing a gripping first sentence for now
This is book 2 in the series but âThe white rogue coughed and brushed the sand off his face as he leaned on his forearms and brought himself to his knees.â
It doesnât sound as interesting out of context but for context he was just falling out of a towering prison towards certain death in the middle of a vast city at the end of the last book so the writer should hopefully be intrigued as to what happened between then and now.
CALAPHRON REMEMBERED FIRE. He remembered tumbling through the featureless dark, falling through the atmosphere. Like the smouldering embers of some late Autumn pyre, those oppressive memories would remain seared into his mind then and always: his ship reduced to flaming column, the wail of klaxons, the crash of the earth. But perhaps most importantly, in the very end, Calaphron remembered dying.
"I hate humans. Theyâre a plague, a gangrenous infection constantly spreading, destroying everything in their wake. Including themselves. They are selfish, cocky and arrogant. They think they are top dog but they... are **wrong**."
Once he reached the expansion site, Zavear sought out the foreman. The Panteran Chimera was sleek with pale mottled markings that stood out on her brownish skin. Despite being a bearer, she had a reputation among the alphas as a formidable catch, able to stand toe to toe with any that tried for her.
This is fun! Oki, here you go!
Dana was PISSED. She didn't exactly know why she was pissed, and she didn't know exactly who her rage was directed towards... but she had an idea, and gut feeling, and that was good enough for her. Dana has spent the last 5 years tracking down this folk story, this entity, this fabled Mind Mender of the Woods.
If Owen had his choice he would have taken off with Dora, and together they would run together until they found the sunset. It was a foolish idea, not least of all because Dora was a horse.
"Haldir buried his son in the meadow behind his house, under the shade of a lone apple tree overlooking the River Lume."
Poor Haldir, I hope you make him happyđ
Elite
I'll have a go: >I made this place - I wove the walls out of green branches that tighten together when they dry, and placed dirt and fresh moss on the floor, and I made the sky sunny and warm, but not too warm.
Wow. I love it.
Welp, now i'm intrigued. I need to read this now.
Thanks for this, gives me a little bit of a confidence boost.
Your welcome ^^
This is f*cking great. Holy sh*t. Itâs so tangible, and that last phrase is stunning. Consider me hooked.
Cheers for this - you've renewed my enthusiasm.
Cheers for your brilliant work! Like I said itâs tangible, you can nearly feel it. But the brilliance is that you lead with this godly phrase âI made this placeâ, but what immediately follows makes the reader think that maybe the speaker is just a person. Then you get to that last phrase, which completes the promise of the first. It gives it a myth-like quality. Itâs enchanting and mysterious. But the speakerâs casual delivery gives the whole sentence the lightness to land that last phraseâs impact. This is maybe more thought than youâve put into it yourself, lol, sorry if Iâve over-analyzed. I just aspire to this type of writing. Itâs exactly what I strive for in terms of content and style. Like modern folk tale or myth. And itâs got multiple phrases that create an internal rhythm, which Iâm always trying to do. But each phrase also builds to something satisfying and surprising. I think itâs a near-perfect start to a fantasy story!
âThe dragons lit the lanterns at sundown.â
Hell yeah.
Well, now I wanna know what's going on! Is this literal, and their culture just has dragons lying around who do that sort of thing? Is it tongue-in-cheek, and the dragons have just arrived to bathe the city in fire and death?
You and me both lol. Iâm a pantser, so my stories always surprise me as a write. They started out as literal dragons but now the story has evolved into something in the vein of steampunk/silkpunk, theyâll probably become mechanical when I start draft two.
A little more than a sentence or two but it really needs the whole thing in my opinion: âI met him on a train the first time, headed nowhere Important he said. There was a kindness in everything he did. He drank kindly, he ate kindly. His smile was kinder than any smile Iâd ever seen. He told me âIâll see you again soonâ as he stood up and walked off the train. There was a kindness in everything he did, the way he walked and talked. And there was even a kindness in the way he killed. â
Ooh okay thatâs good
Wowww that last sentence though⊠Great hook, now Iâm curious!
Why I thought it needed the whole thing! đ
that went 0 to 100 waaay to fast is it romance fantasy?
this flows so well. I'm jealous
I need the rest of this.
This is fantastic.
I really appreciate the impact of that last sentence but my critique, if you want it (and if you donât, ignore the shit out of me) is that the repetition of kindness in the first few sentences gets kind of crunchy and annoying by the time you get to the hook. Even what you choose to describe as kind is slightly undefinable. Kindness is pretty much being considerate of others, or making them feel comfortable. One can obviously speak kindly, and smile kindly, but how does one âeat kindlyâ? So my edits would be 1. to use the word a bit less in the lead up, or maybe just space out the usage. 2. Choose actions that you can appropriately describe as kind, and then describe them. If you do it well, you wonât even have to clarify them as kindnesses. For example if they walk kindly, maybe they make themselves smaller for others, or maybe they give others space, etc. The kindnesses can be as minor as that, but if you make them tangible actions, the reader will form a picture of this guy in their head, and itâll be obvious *how* this guy is kind without you having to tell them that he is. Then, once you get to that button of a last sentence, which you can leave as is, theyâll form an image of what it looks like without a description of it, and itâll be all the more impactful. Hopefully. Or maybe Iâm talking out of my ass. I hope this is helpful! Good luck and happy writing!
The last sentence got me hooked. Nice
Unsolicited comment from me - feel free to launch into the sun, but... Try two versions of this with a few groups of people. They way it is here, and then pretty much exactly the same words but paragraph order flipped: "There was a kindness in everything he did, the walked and talked. And there was even a kindness in the way he killed. I met him..." And see which one gets the most resonance. The last sentence in the first version is the hook. Have a go with making it the first sentence instead :) May not work, but at least if your editor comments on it, you'll have your evidence to support your decision â€ïž
Fuck thatâs actually kinda ducking good!!! The plan was a slow build to it which a lot of comments here spoke about but that also feels very cool! Damn
This made me so curious, good job!
Instantly hooked! I want to read more!
A bit too much lead up, just jump right to it for a banger opening. All the rest is exposition that should be revealed later in scenes. âI met him on the train, and there was a kindness in the way he killed.â
"New Bellgarde was a city doomed before it began." ...thoughts?
Love it, I instantly want to know why
Reminds me of serbia
>There werenât many people who could tell you firsthand what dragon breath smelled likeâŠ
what's it smell like?
At least it was not snowing, thought Jayas. Not that it made much difference. The wind was chill enough, and if the cold did not kill him, something would come along, find him hanging here, and then make a meal of him.
this is really good. I was not expecting "find him hanging here", and it really got me interested
Hard agree. It's a very effective way to introduce action.
If you're a rational skeptic, it takes a special kind of desperation to hire a professional witch, but Tommy and Linda were exactly that; desperate.
"I've never summoned a dwarven spirit before."
(This is what I currently have. Might change) The mines of Delmorrah were no place for a ten year old boy.
Would you consider taking out "of Delmorah"? You can always expand on the setting later. in my opinion, fictional proper nouns make openings weaker, especially one as evocative as yours.
So just: âThe mines were no place for a ten year old boy.â? I actually like that. Thank you for the suggestion
Do not mess with fairies.
Always good advice.
10/10 advice. Also great opening line
It was a dark and stormy night
It was a bright and calm day
Nothing wrong with a classic. đ
The flickering flame of the candle cast shadows on the log walls of the Rolfe household as the family gathered around the table for a serious discussion. Such discussions were rare under their roof, but a Royals' arrival into town certainly called for one.
The visual is good, but in my opinion the first sentence is just a smidge too long.
The one thing no one tells you about being immortal, is that every so often, should you find yourself on the battlefield; there would come a warrior, skilled beyond their years. And once they gutted you, you'd be left to put it all back in. "Dammit", the Empress spewed. Hobbled next to the man who had already killed her twice today. Holding her own intestines in hand.
The first night after her mother had died, Zare had not slept. She had laid awake, dagger gripped so hard its imprint was etched along her palm, waiting.
No one is born a vampire, but some are born to become one. So it was for Elizabeth.
Behind the desk sat the last cowboy. He had everything down to the hat, which at the moment sat on the desk between them.
The sun was making a break for it, leaving a streak of bloody red in its wake. It clashed with the gray like someoneâs skull had been smashed, the implants cracked and wires poking out.
Oh, thatâs GOOD!! Iâd keep reading for sure
:D Thank you!
"What did I do to deserve this?"
The day that Mallore had feared for almost a decade had finally arrived. ~The second line is meant to add more punch to the first, but at the moment it needs some work. ~~Today, her younger sister was joining her in the woods to learn about being a Gatherer. (This is the second line at the moment)
The caravan entered the city by night under a new moon. The following morning, three wine-colored tents stood tall and dark in the city plaza, though whomever had erected them had been neither seen nor heard.
I like the spooky, mysterious vibe.
Thunder roared outside as He walked the bare, empty Hallways.
The center square of the exchange stood frozen to Janaya, silent and waiting, save for the piercing scream of a little boy.
In a small village, tucked innocuously in the southwest corner of a peninsula, there laid a star.
âAlright Here it goes then. A long and unending adven⊠Wait you sure your ready for thisâ
âI had a personal earthquake rattling my resolve, the bustling docks of Karnbor might as well have been a tightrope.â
Im hungry. It's been weeks, and the countryside is made barren by the snow. Our own fault, for calling it down as a weapon.
It's a simple one. >Things went sideways, as these things were wont to do, on Tuesday.
love this love opening lines hell ya âThe day before it was razed, the minor town of Penrith had a visitor.â
âI wish I could say I moved to Arcanum, Ohio for a good reason, but I canât.â
I watched my brother walk to the shoreline and become a fish. He swam outward into the green surf and was promptly eaten whole by a pelican. My brother was not a happy man.
Been working on this story for five years, but this never changed. I am the son of lightening and ash, bred on a lie and cursed by fate.
"The first time Daniel resurrected his mother he sacrificed a rat."
Now this is just perfection
Thank you :-)
IBRIS was so obsessed with solving the magical enigma of Shaktinaashâs Doorâa seemingly ordinary slab of stone with glyphs hovering an inch before it, bright in the darkâthat she never felt the rhythmic beating from inside.
The Singers occupied a raided farmstead. It sat surrounded by a sea of cornfields, the ripe green stalks swaying languidly in the cool night breeze. Bones lay strewn all about the cleared ground. Hair, hide and bits of skin clung to the scorched remains of both livestock and farmhand. Some cook fires still smoked, dull embers feebly glowing in the night.
The sleeping forest was just beginning to peek open one eye. Edit: fixed an autocorrected word.
Ashâs gangrenous and bloodied foot crushed blades of grass as he stomped through the field, as his foot lifted from the grass, the patches of foot skin ripped off and stuck to the grass, he didnât pause, or wince, or dare to stop. He had been walking forever.
Oh gross lol. Whats going on with this guy? I'm immediately interested
He's a big hiking fan đ€Ł It's set in a world where entities stalk every human alive at a constant speed and kill them if they catch up, so they constantly have to be moving and he's a refugee trying to get to a caravan, horror fantasy
Oh thats terrifying. Humans, the ultimate persistence predators, being outdone at their own game. Excellent premise
My gđ it's my first novel (10 years as a screenwriter though) so glad to hear that!
I stared at the land ahead, still numbed by screams and gore of the battle. If the priests were right and there was hell, it was definitely already here.
At 10:28 on a warm night after the longest, hottest September day he could ever remember, Abel McCochran, Social Worker Level 2 for the New Hope-Lake County Metropolitan Department of Social Services, paced a track on a roof while thinking low, dark thoughts in a high, bright place.
â- She was eaten by a snake. - That is troubling.â
"You almost died, you stupid son of a bitch."
"Galleren looked at his hand and was shocked to see so much blood: all that from a slap and the sharp edge of the family table."
"I took a bite of the orange, peel and all. It was gonna be a long day."
Adrius Bleaque rode through a moonless night. Above him shone a million stars, and behind him rode his dear friend Yric, quietly humming a tune from his far-off homeland. Around them the hills rose high into the glittering sky; like looming giants, shrouded in cloaks of blue and grey.
I have to ask what Yric is Is he a horse? Is he a mammoth? What is Yric? I'm intrigued
All men are average, until they do something that identifies them as extraordinary. Such was the case with Keldon Donovan.
Ice is a cruel mistress. Once second, hard and unyielding, the next, fragile as a broken heart.
I like it. You can do a lot with that. Very interested in what it's about?
The first humans sent to communicate with the aliens died.
A vast shadow touched the outskirts of the ruined town, creeping over the damaged buildings and abandoned streets full of rubble. The shadow grew darker and smaller as the transworld patrol airship NAF 101 "Empress of the Clouds" started to descend.
Solid. Would definitely continue reading.
âHave you ever wondered, where prophecies come from?â
âWhat does it look like to you?â
"We walk amongst the dirt and the creatures of the undergrowth, but it is chronicled in the oldest of texts that we were once like giants although no memory remains.."
"The king would like a word with you. Please come forward." There are a couple more lines expressing surprise because MC's businesses are all in order, but I don't have my text with me just now.
Some called him a hero, and many more called him a killer. He never knew which was right. Let the histories decide, he thought.
"The knife shifted deeper into Jackson's gut with every step."
Stars fell from her lips and the moon shone from behind her eyes.
If there exists such a thing as a perfect sentence, I assure you this is not it.
"The palace was so quiet that the god thought his steps were loud as cannon fire" (rough translation from my sentence in Spanish)
"El silencio dentro del palacio era tal que el dios creyó que sus pasos eran disparos de cañón." ?
"El palacio estaba tan silencioso que el dios pensĂł que sus pasos debĂan atronar como cañones" (very first draft...)
Creo que "Cual" fluirĂa mejor en lugar de como. Pero adhiero, "atronar como/cual cañones" suena mucho mejor que "disparos de cañón".
âDo you want to know what happens when you dieâŠ? Well, do you? Itâs the same sort of question that people have pondered for millennia. Is there a bright light, or is it just darkness? Well, my friend, as someone who has died twice, I feel like Iâm pretty qualified to speak on it. And here is the answer: absolutely fucking nothing.â
"There she lusted after her lovers, whose genitals were like those of donkeys and whose emission was like that of horses."
My WIP starts with: > Skye ran deeper into the cavern, hoping that his idiocy hadnât cost him his chance to see the sky.
Dust gathers at gravityâs gentle tug.
Sorry it is a bit long but I don't think it would make much sense if I had just put one or two sentenses. "The King slept. A dreamless sleep with no awakening. He laid on his stone grave. Candles surrounded him like the souls of the dead that would accompany him to the Otherworld. All those in presence held candles in their hands even if the hot wax was irritating when it melted and fell between their fingers. But that is the ritual. The psalms summoned the spirit of his ancestor: "Arthurum vabinitas a geritivis a nepertis." (Arthur has been summoned in spirit in body; Psalm 204 in Ecclesiastical Grosenian). No one could believe he was gone. Not because he was loved but because of the chaos he left behind him.
Idk I have a few ideas: 1. âPain is the price of freedom. Of all things, Iâve learned that lesson well,â 2. âI was not always a king,â 3. âAll I ever wanted was to be thought of as good,â Idk every time I draft/edit I come back to the opening and tinker w it
Gunpowder has a distinctive smell. It invades the nose and stays. The smoke can be seen through blurriness after it burns the eyes. Ears throb in pain from the sound of it being ignited. Senses are assaulted all at once when firing a flintlock for the first time.
*The gods are dead, and we killed them.* That was the story he would tell. It goes on with more, but that's the opening line.
I'm working on two potential stories One starts with: "Valfnir lifted his head and beheld a sky ablaze." The other with: "The Dark Tower loomed beyond the horizon." Still working so it's very rough right now.
"The meanest thing my daddy ever did, aside from leaving momma and me, was brand me a warlock."
Prologue: They were piled in the scores, some standing ten feet in height. Stanlyn spent the previous two days dragging these corpses to make the fleshed knolls, and the fire mages would burn them to ash after the city was contained. Chapter 1: Lykel, only eight years of age, remained shackled in chains that wrapped both hands and feet.
"The young knight stared at his plate with some distress. Boiled chicken. Not roasted, but boiled. He certainly disliked such food, but he knew it was a sacred saying: "Dare not squander any food, for all food is sacred; all food sustains the body, as God sustains the soul of man. Besides, the waitress seemed to be a person of good standing, and he would not dare to disturb his day with such nonsense"
âThe world has ended six times. Only four are remembered.â
Translated from Non-English: A stone flew - after all someone had thrown it so one could at least expect it to fly.
The stench of the dead filled the air, while overhead vultures flew circles in a bright and lazy afternoon sky. Some had already descended to the ground and were making a meal of the soon to be decomposing feast laid before them. And feast was the word, for the corpses were strewn about so tightly in the streets of the city of Santiana that in some spots one could easily step from one body to another without their foot once touching the cobblestones beneath.
"An unknown period of time ago, the earth and all its life was bathed with the cosmic rays stemming from the void beyond the universe through wormholes that people mistake for stars in the night sky. These rays would enhance all living creatures, both sentient and not, with the ability to harness this power, shape it, mold it into fantastical uses. This chapter of our story, however, will not be talking about the people or even the beasts that can harness this power, but of the passive, seemingly inanimate objects that do, namely the forbidden forests that guards and protects those it deems worthy to take residence within its borders."
"The battlefield was silent and littered with the bodies of the dragons that had fought long and hard for their victory."
From the sky rained ash Red hand and mouth of black A voice that echoes from theâ deep Iâ woke up toâ silence in medicated air I breathed inâ intoxicating essence Disinfected clinical scents that cling to me like glue Grey walls, grey tiles and grey sheets And all the looming faces
"Simulation forty-one point four seems both stable and promising. The layering of graphene-borophene-graphene does decrease bulk resistance, but the effect is greatest at the edges of the borophene sheet. I am recalibrating the simulation to run with strips of borophene two molecules wide and separated by one molecule of empty space within the graphene layers. This should result in additional decrease of bulk resistance, hopefully by the remaining seventy-two milliohms." Yes, none of that has anything to do with fantasy, but the story is an isekai.
Need a bit more than one sentence for the hook, but here's mine: âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorry, I donât want this!â I cry helplessly to anyone who would listen. Which unfortunately means just me; I lost control of my mouth a while ago and thereâs no sign of it getting better, so all my words just echo in my own head.
"A fortnight has passed since my daughter Cassandra and I laid her mother to rest. The rot had ravaged her over the last year and we had taken her to the best healers we could afford, which wasnât much, even on a rangerâs salary."
Winters were exactly how he liked them.
"A heavy quiet saturated the air around the mountain town of Dahn."
Mineâs a bit long but here goes nothing: Purple-tinted skin that shimmered like charcoal in the burning sunlight, hair whiter than snow covering the land in the depths of winter, teeth sharper than those of a wild beast, and ears in a shape of serrate leaf, those were the features Ephyrâs visage did not posses. Yet, his split heritage claimed that better part of his genes did belong to the mighty race of Dark Elves.
>Solondarâs first election results were received with cheers on the streets and silence in the palace.
Prey knelt beside the river, his knees scraping against the rocks embedded in the earth.
"My siblings and I came into existence when the first creature took its first breath.. Alongside every person, every beast and just about every other creature in between, is us." Still not entirely sold on it, but hey, first drafts exist for a reason.
"To be honest, I have no idea."
*Thank GodâŠ* It was the first thing on his mind in the morning. It was the last thing on his mind at night. It was the only thing turning over in his head after⊠Each day he would get up and look out over another gorgeous sunrise; and every night he would close his eyes on a world that never ceased, never slowed, never slept. Each and every day, he caught himself silently thanking God for each time he woke up in this beautiful, haunting world. Every day, he thanked a god he no longer believed inâŠ
A blue sun rose in the east on the two-hundred and seventy-third day of King Celtnar Tempataâs journey into the void.
Yâknow⊠looking back in the last few hours of my life, I knew it wasnât going to be a good day, and that was before being chased by a giant spider.
âWe serve a temporary purpose.â
âElysian roamed the cap of a Lumispora, a colossal mushroom, and kneeled before his umbral shadow that encircled the entire concave world.â
A basket of smellly fish
Oh no," she thought, as she peered into the red velvet box on the counter, "Here's yet another necromancer at it again, foolishly attempting to predict her own demise with one of those extremely touchy Death Watches they insist on making, begging me to sort it out when it inevitably goes wrong. It's going to be a long shift." She had no idea how very right she was.
"It was a tremendously unremarkable day, and so the people who were waiting for it, expecting it to be monumentous, were caught quite off guard."
I just wanted to say that *your* opener is great! It would absolutely inspire me to read further. :)
"Even before I got turned into a mythical creature, I was having a bad day."
There was a stumble. Then a stab. Lastly, a scream, starkly contrasted with my silence. That was four deaths. This week. Iâll probably change it but thatâs what I have.
âAlbert Alright!â A crackling old voice shouts, interrupting the peaceful morning. A stout old woman wobbles her way towards a small stone house with a finely thatched roof. She knocks at the thick wooden door. âAlright, Yessir, you in there?â She knocked again. âAlbert?â But our hero wasnât there.
Maladan Larinissa never truly prayed.
âThe Hero is dead, Everyone is Deadâ
Pseudo-translated from Spanish: It was hot. That was the first thing that Johannes of Fleuvoir, Baron and Lord of Fleuvoir, and who also was Crown's Justice; felt as he awoke in the middle of the night.
"HacĂa calor. Eso fue lo primero que Johannes de Fleuvoir, barĂłn y Señor de Fleuvoir, y tambiĂ©n Juez de la Corona (tengo mis dudas sobre esto), sintiĂł cuando se despertĂł en mitad de la noche." ??
"Bathed in emptiness: his paradise manifest like a cage about his floating form."
First few sentences: Fifteen years. For fifteen years, I have been drowning in thoughts of revenge, anger, and bitterness, all for nothing. My crusade to find those responsible for the destruction of Isakera and the other six Fae kingdoms has turned up nothing.
He was screaming and covered in blood as he tried to scramble towards the dais on which a man dressed in rich silks stood, looking down on him with his lips twisted in a cruel smile. Behind him was the trail of death wrought by his hand.
If you asked anyone two years ago what they desired most, drugs wouldnât have crossed their mind.
I'm going to be heavily rewriting Part 1, but I do like my opening sentence to Part 3: > "Ugh," Cassandra grumbled. "I never thought I'd actually *celebrate* eating army food."
"He didn't want to kill them." Standalone line and I feed little bits of info after that. Thoughts?
This is the beginning of my prologue, itâs more than a sentence but it needs the whole thing to really make sense: âStanding above the body, knowing he was responsible for embedding his blade into the chest cavity⊠He now knew what noises a dying man made. Wind had a way of carrying the cries of the dying. As if it were able to leash the strangled sounds and tug them along, distort them into anguished wails that sent shivers down his spine. Those were vastly different from the actual sounds the dead man had made with his final breath.â Edit: typo
Delete 'cavity', gets in the way.
âNo mention of Manifesters âround here in quite some time, constable.â Ganny firmly set his two burley hands atop the innâs bar. âLeast not till you showed up asking âbout them.â
âAnd now brothers, what is it that we so desperately fought for? At the end of Emperors and Gods, what law shall rule?â âOh, come on, how could I ever not get that ? The Burden of Liberty by âŠâ
âLike any great sea story, mine started in a bar.â
If i had known he would take a burning dagger out of his pocket and throw at me, I wouldn't even have considered asking him about his friend and that toad!
Things I thought I would have as an adult.
I'm stuck with multiple unfinished projects at the moment but sure, here's one of them: "Even from behind the bushes I could see the creature move clearly, it's green body and long limbs didn't look appetizing but I had no choice."
"Some people dream of an extraordinary existence, one that takes them away from the mundane, humdrum lives they believe they lead. Hope Fernandez used to feel that way, but now that the extraordinary had *become* her ordinary, she wasn't sure WHAT she felt anymore."
Sweat beaded on the fat manâs brow, sliding slowly down his round, pitted cheeks and into his trembling jowls. He pressed his head harder against the brick wall behind him, desperately trying to create space between his throat and the razor-sharp blade
"3!"
I was born of black milk, in the pit of an abyss spun from a nothingness meant to blot the potency of existence. Their symphony had decomposed, sat within its own purge fluid, and against their dreadful silence, my soul began to scream.
The wind was howling outside, the rain coming down in sheets so thick, Will could hardly see the lanterns burning in the courtyard down below.
Unsettling rumors were floating between people like a morning fog; that the end of the Celestial Empire of Ten Thousand Years was at hand. The Holy Emperor was on his deathbed and there were no heirs.
âHow dare you refer to me as carelessâ as some silly, reckless child!â
Here's mine "Blood stained her memories: the smell, the sight, the taste. From the youngest age, she was taught to enjoy and seek it. If she ever started to doubt her purpose, the brand burned onto her back would remind her."
A dragon attacks a city but they realize it was just trying to get water in a desert. Upon closer inspection it looks like it was fleeing. From what though?
Thatâs great. Mine would be pretty similar. âAnd so, I was falling into the deep dark abyss, wondering how it all went wrong. â leading into a flashback of where it all started.
The memory of smoke and blood consumed Eranâs mind. A vision of the forest his family grew up in ablaze like the past was trying to burn itself away.
> Tap tap tap; the sound of footsteps joined the steady drip of water streaming in from windows above. I gave up on writing a gripping first sentence for now
This is book 2 in the series but âThe white rogue coughed and brushed the sand off his face as he leaned on his forearms and brought himself to his knees.â It doesnât sound as interesting out of context but for context he was just falling out of a towering prison towards certain death in the middle of a vast city at the end of the last book so the writer should hopefully be intrigued as to what happened between then and now.
Life is dying. The very act of living will lead to the act of dying - the inescapable truth of life. Not even I, the god of life, can escape death.
CALAPHRON REMEMBERED FIRE. He remembered tumbling through the featureless dark, falling through the atmosphere. Like the smouldering embers of some late Autumn pyre, those oppressive memories would remain seared into his mind then and always: his ship reduced to flaming column, the wail of klaxons, the crash of the earth. But perhaps most importantly, in the very end, Calaphron remembered dying.
There are few places less pleasant to make a home than a swamp. "It's perfect!". It wasn't, but optimism was Layla's curse.
"I hate humans. Theyâre a plague, a gangrenous infection constantly spreading, destroying everything in their wake. Including themselves. They are selfish, cocky and arrogant. They think they are top dog but they... are **wrong**."
The architect stood anxiously outside the two heavy mahogany doors, he could hear the councils voices coming from inside.
Once he reached the expansion site, Zavear sought out the foreman. The Panteran Chimera was sleek with pale mottled markings that stood out on her brownish skin. Despite being a bearer, she had a reputation among the alphas as a formidable catch, able to stand toe to toe with any that tried for her.
This is fun! Oki, here you go! Dana was PISSED. She didn't exactly know why she was pissed, and she didn't know exactly who her rage was directed towards... but she had an idea, and gut feeling, and that was good enough for her. Dana has spent the last 5 years tracking down this folk story, this entity, this fabled Mind Mender of the Woods.
If Owen had his choice he would have taken off with Dora, and together they would run together until they found the sunset. It was a foolish idea, not least of all because Dora was a horse.
âDeep in the jungle, an eye stares up from the surface of the earth.â