I was draped over the arm of one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen, and he was staring into my eyes.
“Think.. Brad Pitt,” I whispered. The dark brown eyes still regarde me with remote interest.
Okay, I was on the wrong track.
I pictured Claude’s last lover, a bouncer at a strip joint.
“Think about Charles Bronson,” I suggested. “Or, um, Edward James Olmos.” I was rewarded by the beginnings of a hot glow in those long-lashed eyes.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ The Magic Misfits
In the darkness of a train yard, somewhere on the far edge of town, a shadowy figure emerged from a thick curtain of fog. The person looked back once before dashing alongside several rows of empty train tracks.
Now, if you’re anything like me, you might flinch when imagining a shadowy figure emerging from a nighttime fog in a nearly abandoned train yard lit only by distant streetlights. But you needn’t to worry here. It was merely a skinny boy named Carter Locke.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ I Love You So Mochi
I’m supposed to be embarking on a quest of self-discovery, but I keep getting lost. I don’t mean that in the super introspective, “let’s talk about my feelings” kind of way. I mean I literally don’t know where I am.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ Hot Dog Girl
Everybody seems to think the summer after your senior year is the stuff of legends. That it’s two months of pure teenage bliss or something. It’s almost as if there’s this big conspiracy surrounding it, like, sure, kid, throw your cap in the air, cue up that hit pop song you will definitely hate by fall, and then you, too, will be guaranteed the most epic summer of your life. I mean, we all know that’s not how it actually goes down, right?
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ King Flashypants and the Snowball of Doom
It was hot in Edwinland. Really hot.
It was so hot that when people bought an ice cream from the van, it turned runny in two seconds and they had to pour it into their mouths like custard. It was so hot that you could fry eggs on the heads of bald men.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ Dead Until Dark
I’d been waiting for the vampire for years when he walked into the bar. Ever since vampires came out of the coffin (as they laughingly put it) two years ago, I’d hoped one would come to Bon Temps. We had all the other minorities in our little town -why not the newest, the legally recognized undead. But rural northern Louisiana wasn’t too tempting to vampires, apparently; on the other hand, New Orleans was a real center for them – the whole Anne Rice thing, right?
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ Every Moment After
People want to forget. No one would ever say it, but I think this town will be glad to see our class leave. They put up all the memorials you’d expect, but there was no need: we’re living reminders. Year after year, walking the streets, sitting in the diner, popping up in marching band and on the baseball teams.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ The Way Past Winter
It was a winter they would tell tales about. A winter that arrived so sudden and sharp it stuck birds to branches, and caught the rivers in such a frost their spray froze and scattered down like clouded crystals on the stilled water. A winter that came, and never left.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ Heroine
When I wake up, all my friends are dead.
I don’t know when they stopped breathing, or how long I slept while they dropped off one by one. Josie’s basement is a windowless place where time does not matter, the lights set low. She’s sprawled across a couch, lips gone gray underneath the plumping lip gloss she uses to cover the fact she’s started shredding them with her teeth, devouring herself with need when there’s no needle in reach.
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ The Waking Forest
Let’s start with the Witch in the Woods.
Only children could find her, the Witch, led by foxes faintly glowing in the darkness between sleeping and waking. Together they traveled through dreamland until they came to an archway like an eye half open, big enough only to crawl through.
Beneath the stars, the moon a bouquet of blue-violet bruises, the Witch lived in a castle with turrets of unnaturally thick tree trunks and broad walls of entwined branches and leaves, the battlements formed by the oversize molars of some unfathomable animal. The crisscrossed bones of the portcullis gleamed in the milky midnight light as the drawbridge of melded cloven hooves lowered over rushing river.