Write the best first paragraph you can think of - it must be your own?

Question

Here's mine - just thought of it now:

I would rather see innocent blood tragically shed, the flesh torn violently to pieces, the bones powdered into dust, than nothing at all!

I would rather suffer a thousand evils than be spared all types of feeling and sensation.

The above would be the beginning of a tale of an outlaw, an artistic romantic vagabond, one who delights in excitement, Carpe Diem, he is the man-of-the-hour. But, he soon realises that the people he begins to feel attached to do not share this sentiment and desert him, and slowly, bit by bit, he falls into depression and pessimism and... well... then you can finish the rest.

By the way, the story I've made up will not be written by me, so if you wish, feel free to experiment with it, if you like it.

Answer 1

If you'd told me I'd kill him, steal a fortune, and get away with it, all without a bit of guilt, I'd have laughed in your face and ordered another drink. A double.

One of several opening lines I'm considering for my current novel.

Answer 2

Is it strange to die? The lives I have cast aside, the families I have ripped apart...What did they feel as I slit their throats? Surely it is not what I experienced; this longing, this need to be near someone. Could it all have been in vain? What would my loved ones think, if they saw me now? I dare not dwell on that disturbing thought.

Answer 3

From the current WIP:

Richard St Ivraie sucked in a deep lungful of sea air. Faugh. Why did it always stink of dead fish? Or perhaps it just reeked of death. He surreptitiously sniffed under his arm. No, wait. That was him.

From the soon-to-be-released story:

The soft Carolina night cushioned Debra Henry’s footsteps as she wandered down the lane. Just in front of her lay the Congaree Swamp National Forest. To prove it, a mosquito the size of a kitten landed on her arm and prepared to drill. She swatted it, then grimaced at the squishy bug mess on her hand.

They've not been through edits yet, so they may change.

Answer 4

There was a railroad spike in Dr. Armstrong's neck.  With the numbness of shock he wasn't sure whether to start screaming, or wonder what in God's name a PhD in sociology was good for in at this point. The indecision didn't last long, however, because a heavy blow knocked him facefirst into the perfect-white pavement his University maintained so nicely. Within seconds, Armstrong was dead.

.... Of course, it's not Dr. Armstong we should be worried about at this point. No, the Man to consider was nearly 200 miles SSW of Dr. Armstrong's unfortunate corpse, and would be blindsided in two hours by a Brilliant idea that would make him the sixth richest man in the world.

This man was a Mister R.H. Wesson.

Answer 5

Jasper Drowns was no stranger to pain.  He'd been riding in the Mountains through the change of seasons, sleeping on the hard ground, catching his meals, and riding until his steed practically needed to be carried.  He had come from burying his best friend Cyril Moore and was going no where in particular.  Cyril and him had been friends since the womb and Jasper would give up any other real family if it meant keeping Cyril by his side.  Cyril was the coming up with another scheme to work them hard and get them money so they could move on to the next adventure.

     Jasper had only walked outside for a moment when Cyril took up the card game with some bad looking varments.  Jasper just wanted to take what little they had and hide it so that some pretty lil filly didn't get them for it or some gang of ruffians steal it off of them.  The shots were fired, people were running and screaming in the saloon and Cyril lay dead on the floor.

   It was only fitting that Jasper used the money they'd got playing cards to burying Cyril and with what little was left he set out on his horse to suffer the thousand evils that Cyril was always looking for.  

Answer 6

I was feeling in a funny mood, so mine is humorous, not "deep".

There is nothing worse in the entire universe, than swollen toes. Swollen, mosquito bitten toes. Nothing worse than that at 3 AM in the morning, scratching your feet every ten seconds, trying to feel tired when you feel like vomiting all over your bed. Bites aimed just right by the nasty little vampire mozzies. Just between your toes, hardest to get at and itchiest of them all. The fan wouldn't blow them away, so I tried garlic. Stomachache resulted. I drank water. Worse. So I'm lying on my bed, trying to convince my brain to tell me I'm sleepy, and, oh, another mosquito bite, this time placed strategically --

Angel_U

PS this is actually happening right now.