The graveyard was still and deathly quiet. Only the hoot of a solitary owl could be heard in the distance. The moon was full, its light casting a milky glow over the ancient gravestones and magnificent mausoleums.
It came from below, a grey insipid wisp that grew in stature with every second, until finally its form settle into the shape of a tall man wearing a black cloak and top hat. The spectre floated off the ground, as if walking on air. His face was dark and menacing, eyes red with fury. From his open mouth thousands of insects took flight. He was looking for something; his next victim.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ All These Bodies by Kendare Blake
In the summer of 1958, the murders that would come to be known as the “Bloodless Murders” or the “Dracula Murders” swept through the Midwest, beginning in Nebraska and sawing through Iowa and Wisconsin before turning back to my hometown of Black Deer Falls, Minnesota. Before it was over, the murders would claim the lives of seventeen people of different ages and backgrounds. All would be discovered with similar wounds: their throats slit or their writs cut. A few sustained deep cuts to their inner thigh. Each of the victims died from blood loss, yet each of the crime scenes was suspiciously clean of blood.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ Fear Street the Beginning by R.L. Stine
Look at her down there, all crumpled. Her dress all rumpled.
She wouldn’t like that. She was always so neat.
She wouldn’t like the blood, so dark and messy.
You were always so perfect, Anna. You were always so bright and shiny, as if you were sparkly new every day.
“My Diamond,” Mom always said.
And who was I, then?
Who was I while you were Little Miss Perfect?
Well, you’re perfect now. You’re perfectly dead, ha ha.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ The Children of Castle Rock by Natasha Farrant
Imagine a house, in a garden.
The paint is flaking and the chimney is cracked and the uncut grass is wild. But ignore all that. Look here instead, at the giant wisteria with a trunk as thick as your arm, its purple flowers dripping against the old stone wall. Look at the swing hanging from that ancient oak, those cherry trees planted in a circle around the house. One of the trees is so close to a window that in summer, when it fruits, the girl who lives here can reach out to pick the cherries.
Imagine that – picking cherries from your bedroom window.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ The Devil Makes Three by Tori Bovalino
Tess Matheson was one of the few people on campus who didn’t think that the Jessop English Library was haunted.
This wasn’t because of a lack of belief in the paranormal. Tess, who’d grown up under the watchful presence of a host of ghosts that haunted her family’s central Pennsylvania farmhouse, considered herself to have a particularly keen sixth sense. The Jessop Library never gave her any hair-raising or spine-tingling sensations beyond the regular chills from the abnormally forceful air conditioner.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ The Dare Sisters by Jess Rinker
I press the tip of the blade against the soft skin of my finger.
“I, Savannah Mae Dare, solemnly swear…”
“Is that a knife?” my older sister, Frankie, interrupts me for the third time. I sigh. The first was to ask why we had to go to Springer’s Point Preserve, the big nature park near our house. The second was why we had to go where it was hundred degrees to sit under a giant live oak with fire ants in the sand. I reminded her we live in North Carolina. On an island. It’s all giant oak and fire ants and sand, not air-conditioning and iced drinks and fluffy pillows.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ Escape to Witch City by E. Latimer
“Emmaline Dorathea Black.”
The shrieking voice echoed down the wide hallway leading up to the kitchen doors. It startled the kitchen’s cat, a gnarled old tom who’d been investigating an interesting stain on the floor mat at the entrance, and it made Emmaline Black jump and fumble the tea tray from which she’d been stealing strawberry tarts.
There was a sharp crack as the tray hit the dessert cart, and one of the tarts she’d been squirrelling away into her sash hit the carpet with a sad little splat.
There was no time to mourn the loss of the pastry though, because another harpy scream came shortly after the first, considerably closer this time.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ Finn and the Intergalactic Lunchbox by Michael Buckley
“Well, this got exciting pretty quick,” Dax Dargon said to her robot partner, Highbeam. They were crouched behind a dumpster with shock blasts and sonic grenades exploding in the dead end alley around them. Every Ka-pow! scrambled Highbeam’s digital face. Each time it returned to normal, his frown was bigger.
“Never a dull moment with you, Dax,” the robot grumbled as a sonic grenade sailed overhead and crashed into the building behind them. Concrete sprayed into the air.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ Curses by Lish McBride
Merit Cravan, only heir to the barony of Cravan and current absentee from her own betrothal ball, locked herself in her room.
Then pushed a dresser in front of the door, just in case. The dresser was heavy, and pushing it left her dress askew and her carefully curled and pinned updo a tangled mess by the time she was done.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ Journey Beyond the Burrow by Rina Heisel
Crouched in perfect stillness beneath a toadstool, Tobin sniffed the air. Wet, with a faint metallic odor.
A storm was coming, a big one. Lightning for sure. Not a good day for a mouse to venture too far from the Great Burrow. Tobin lifted his nose to the breeze again, performing the junior weather scout procedures dutifully: Sniff the air. Search the air. Feel the air.
He didn’t even need all three steps today. The odor of rain was obvious, the clouds sat heaped in the sky like a row of giant bears, and as for feeling the air – his tan-and-black speckled fur was already clumped together from the humidity. For the third time that afternoon, Tobin rubbed his cheeks, fluffing out his fur and whiskers. After all, whiskers used properly are a fine-tuned sensory tool. Drooping whiskers can’t do their job.