Monday’s First Sentence ~ Heartwood Box
This is where hope goes to die.
This is where hope goes to die.
This is where hope goes to die.
Monday’s First Sentence ~ The Jolley-Rogers and the Pirate Piper
A thick fog covered Dull-on-Sea, lazily rolling off the moonless ocean.
Monday’s First Sentence ~ Devoted
James Fulton is sweating like a sinner in church.
Monday’s First Sentence ~ Last Girl Lied To
When I First met you, that stupid-hot day last September when you jumped into my car and slid down in the passenger seat and told me to drive, you were bleached blond.
Monday’s First Sentence ~ The Eye of the North
For as long as she could remember, Emmeline Widget had been sure her parents were trying to kill her.
Monday’s First Sentence ~ Kings, Queens, and In-betweens
The first time Ginny Woodland spoke to me, I vomited all over her Reeboks.
Monday’s First Sentence ~ Birthday
I’m holding my breath, hovering between wavering sunlight and deep, dark blue, arms twirling while my feet kick up and down, slow as tides.
Monday’s First Sentence ~ How Not to Ask a Boy to Prom
Spring renewal comes with many things – the annual Sheffield Family Lawn Game Tournament, my part-time job at the Talbot plant nursery, an inexplicable increase in dick drawings on the outside of my locker.
Monday’s First Sentence ~ Where the Dead Sit Talking
I have been unhappy for many years now.
Monday’s First Sentence ~ The Problem with Forever
Dusty, empty shoe boxes, stacked taller and wider than her slim body, wobbled as she pressed her back against them, tucking her bony knees into her chest.