Participation Day here at the Vortex. I love this picture. Write the first line of the story....
Oh, and because you probably have election hangover and your brain is screaming, "Please, don't ask me to think!" I'll sweeten the pot. We'll all cast our votes Friday for best first line. The winner gets a secret DVD from me to be revealed Friday.
Who's first?
In the twilight evening, the moon came down to earth, and I found myself standing in its shadow waiting for the world's destruction to begin.
Okay, mine's not nearly as cool as Charles's, but here's the first line of one of my ms's. (It gets more exciting, lol)
Mac Jennings guided his sixty foot Wellcraft through the Atlantic, thankful for the calm seas.
Zoltag clapped his hands in delight. "The new planet's here. The new planet's here."
(With apologies to Steve Martin and The Jerk. Okay, apologies to everyone.)
"As he saw the great gray orb sprout up between the still-fragile leaves of young barley, old man Grant couldn’t suppress a wry grin.
They were right. With good enough fertilizer, you can make anything grow."
I suppose that's two lines... Is that cheating?
It seemed funny, at the time, to see the world land in my yard, roll forward and squash Marin.
Scientists proved that the Spaghettio meatball's properties, when tested on alien soil, were not in accordance with the "Nutritional Information" found on the label.
I was the only witness, at the end of days, when the sun was gone and what was left of the moon settled in a desolate field crackling with the fading energy of a dying ember.
The night I realized I carried Fabio's seed, my dreams loomed large.
lol...okay, just kidding.
You didn't think I'd put you up to a writing prompt and *not* participate, did you? Seriously, now. Here it is:
The forgotten acre, the one sandwiched by Broward Creek to the north and a barbed wire marked "No Trespassing By Order of the United States Government" to the south, alighted in the end's glow. A misnomer of hope.
I SO much want to comment on everyone's lines, but I'll wait for the final vote. Of course, mine will not be included.
I shot whiskey from my nose at the "Fabio's seed" line.
It hurt 🙁
Tis you I blame.
Ouch, Wil. Hope that's not going down with peanut butter cups 😉
We have a certain history with Fabio here. I'm saddened to say my April 08 post on Fabio has a dead link now. I Can't Believe It's Not Butter must not be running the promo anymore, but you used to be able to type in a person's name and phone number and answer a few multiple choice questions and Fabio would say something like this:
Hello, Denise. It's Fabio. How are you? I hear you are a nurse. How rewarding that must be. Why don't we get together tonight and I'll play the patient..hah..ha(and then he'd go into a promo line about the butter).
I can't tell you how many people in my address book got calls from Fabio that month. I'd take his side against George Clooney anyday, dead bird to the face and all.
Keep posting lines, everyone...
It took thirty hours of driving on rain slick highways, each of us taking a six hour shift behind the wheel in between half-drunk groping in the back of the van or head bobbing to iPod-islands of personal meditation, and then after we ditched the car the stumbling slog through November fields with muddy ruts and stalks and rocks hidden in the night with only the beacon ahead to guide us, the light on the banks of the river and in the shadow of the mountains, some crazy Kinsella-if-you-build-it masterpiece of a bankrupt farmer gone batshit and in glow of this monstrosity looking like God's own Brunswick 16 pound bowling ball all Bobby can say is "Where's the little flag the astronauts left?"
How did I miss this?!!!! :{
I am glad I voted before I discovered where the first lines came from. I thought you had taken them from books and was a little confused by the "yourself" bit.
Great competition!