Some opening lines for stories that won’t be written…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s honoured guests are the Kim Jong Un lookalike twins Marjory and Phyllis Thwems. Come on up, and join us on the sofa!… Ladies, do you mind if I stroke those shaved areas just above your ears?… Hm… Rough as a cat’s tongue!…
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The metal stepladder landed on the roof with a clatter breaking one of the tiles clean in two revealing slices of its ancient red fabric. Giles frowned and looked at his watch – it was nearly a quarter to four, a silver crescent slid from behind an indigo cloud, and then changed its mind and retreated…

Ralph Speem and Barbara Hums had, since their childhood days living in the Wolds, been very good friends – ‘best buds’ they were, for ever – but one day they fell out over a walnut…

The bright yellow motorboats sputtered and circled on the flat mirror lake – a gang of pleasant bees hummed and harred over, and carefully inspected a few flowers; Vladimir let his bicycle flop over onto the lush unmown grass; he reached into his tunic and opened up a fresh pack of Camels

Barnaby Shrug leaned on the whitewashed wall and twiddled a bright six-inch nail between his fat tobacco stained fingers – he let out a loud belch. Maud Tatters sitting at a nearby table glanced towards the source of the sudden eructation and pink disgust coloured in various parts of her pale face. She reached for her handbag which contained a small neat pistol…

There was a heavy weight trapped inside his head, his limbs seemed distant, his chest was full of air – his closed eyes saw only dark red. After a few seconds Frank Dipple blinked open, tilted his head down, and viewed his bare white feet poking out from under the hospital blanket…

Crack, went the lion tamer’s whip! Several members of the audience jumped and rocked in their gaily painted makeshift seats. Old Brad the lion kept very still on his round blood-red platform and eyed the plump vicar in the front row, who was positioned surprisingly handy for the unnoticed clergyman-sized gap in the wire netting…

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
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15 Responses to Some opening lines for stories that won’t be written…

  1. Sharon Mann says:

    HAHA, these are all great openings…I guess we will have to write the rest of the stories.

  2. Jheron Bash says:

    Well I think you owe it to all your readers to press on and write at least one of these stories, Dave.
    Or try “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” ………

  3. ktz2 says:

    This brought to mind an annual literary contest begun in the US in 1983,
    the ‘Bulwer-Lytton’, a fun thing with only a tiny monetary prize.
    from the interweb:

    ‘Conceived to honor the memory of Victorian novelist Edward George Earl Bulwer-Lytton and to encourage unpublished authors who do not have the time to actually write entire books, the contest challenges entrants to compose bad opening sentences to imaginary novels.
    Bulwer was selected as patron of the competition because he opened his novel “Paul Clifford” (1830) with the immortal words, “It was a dark and stormy night.”

  4. oooooh! “eructuation” That’s a new fancy word I’ll drop in from time to time 🙂 And yes, these stories should be written, indeed!

  5. spelling, doh! Sorry.

  6. Dana Doran says:

    Great work. I should have read this yesterday – I would have been in a much better mood.

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