Post the first 3 sentences of your WIP!

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ABKnight

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From something going through the editing and rewriting mill as we speak:

"Tisha splashed through the puddles that dappled Relic's streets. She could feel the cobbles through the thin soles of her boots, and water drenched the hem of her maid's uniform. With a hiss, she lifted the skirt almost to her knees and raced onwards; she was never late to meet her father, not if she could help it."
 

MMcP

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Here's the current first three sentences of my completed YA MS, although who knows if it will stay that way because I can't stop obsessively re-writing the opening chapter.

The room had housed murderers, drug dealers, robbers, Ponzi schemers, embezzlers, extortionists and counterfeiters. Now it was a serial killer’s turn. Well, an alleged serial killer, of course.
 

seun

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Listen to me, child. If you want to live, stop your questions and listen.
[FONT=&quot]My name is Benjamin Harwood. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]I was born in 1611 here in Dalry and died when I was fifty-five.[/FONT]


OK, so it's four sentences. :D
 

penny manning

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.....Natalie steps off the staircase onto the green marble landing, her feet obscured by the layered sweep of brown linen and cream lace.
.....I slam the bedchamber door shut behind me, taking my anger out on the hinges then rushing along the hallway, trying, as I have for six months, not to look at her protruding stomach.
....."Johannes, are you going out?"

Hmmm...didn't realize how long those sentences were. Urrgh! (Sighing) At least they're not carved in stone yet. :)
 

Julet

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I cheated. I used more that four sentences.

I have a habit of falling for people, and subsequently killing them. It's not that I try to fall for them and lead them to their impending death. No it's not that at all. It all really comes down to the part where I try to act normal as possible, only for them to catch on to me. If there is one thing you learn in the business and that is you are the priority. No one else.
 
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kaitiepaige17

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From The Wicked Not even done with the first draft :p

BOOM!

My feet were lifted off the ground by Two-Ton-Tommy, Fairview High’s meanest defensive end, as he smashed into me, sending me to the ground with embarrassing ease. I was off today, and Coach knew it.
 

Jadedinsc

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From a paranormal romance(?) I'm coming back to after a break. It's tentatively titled Only Human.

I was twenty-five years old when I saw my first zombie. It happened the same night I met my first vampire. The night the thin veil separating me from a world full of monsters and magic was stripped away for good.
 

kelzey2

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From my very first draft of Council of Wolves:


“Flynn! Get down!”
Flynn, who was halfway to her feet, threw herself back to the ground. She hadn’t seen the Steining turn back towards her, but she knew it would have.
 

tinapickles

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Sure, why not.

The new and improved first three sentences from my WIP The Clockwork Cricket:

Ying-Shi did not like cleaning the whorehouse.

Ying-Shi shifted from foot to foot, bucket in hand, studying the building. Buck Trawley, proprietor of the Black Diamond, constructed the six-room accommodations behind the saloon shortly after gold was discoverd at Coloma.
 

mellymel

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From my current WIP. It's actually 4 sentences, but it completes the para.

About a dozen chairs sit in their usual, perfectly spaced out, circle. I can’t understand why they refuse to give us the ones with soft cushions for these stupid meetings. The hard plastic is cold and uncomfortable under my boney butt. Why don’t they just sit us on the damn floor?
 
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Thunderup

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I'll have to find a way to say this in fewer words, but:


The greatest benefit technology presents to me is the ease with which it enables me to identify and avoid douches. When I was in middle school, I used to have to wait until someone walked up to me and talked to me before I judged them. Now, with social networking sites, cell phones, and MMA affiliated clothing assaulting my quiet little life, I no longer enjoy the peace of mind that used to come between bursts of unwanted socialization.
 

svnonnie

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The old man tossed fitfully, caught deep within the throes of a dream that was not of his own making. He was the servant, and he dreamed his Master’s dream, a dream of death. Naked he walked in near-darkness across a broken volcanic landscape, accompanied only by the hollow sound of distant thunder claps breaking angrily against the red-black sky. Just above his feet thin tendrils of ashen fog slunk along the sharp surface laden with the fetid odor of decaying flesh.


WIP titled "The Servant" currently 76K words.
 
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RedRose

By any other name...
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These are from a children's MS for third graders:


I saw a purple and green alien on the playground today. Its head was cut open. Mitch Tanner warned us all to keep it a secret, otherwise something dangerous might happen.
 
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Fresie

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Just to convince myself I actually have an opening:

Over the night-lit Gulf of Finland, a zeppelin's pale underbelly shot beams of electric light into water.

The searchlights rushed across, hovering over the crowd of steamboat passengers who covered their eyes from the blaze with handkerchiefs and week-old newspapers. Well-off people they were, clad in furs and camel coats, men puffing at cigars, women holding at their hats against the wind and pointing gloved fingers at the unfolding view.
 
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PoppysInARow

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He could smell death before they reached the top of the mountain.

Jonah only realized he was running when he heard his own feet pounding against the stone steps. Children behind him cried out his name in terror, but he kept climbing and climbing, even when the trees around him began to blacken with hints of destruction.



Not the greatest thing in the world. It's being hacked to death, I assure you.
 

geekyMary

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From my shiny new first draft:

Jennifer had never walked down the street with her entire life savings in her purse before. It made her a little jumpy.

She had just come from the bank and pulled out the full $20,000 from her savings account in the form of a cashier’s cheque.
 

cooeedownunder

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Elizabeth McGuire swallowed the bitter bile and fought the retch rising in her throat. She squinted, blinded by the brightness of the blue sky and sea. She thought no painter’s pallet could capture such brilliance of light, reflecting off the sky and ocean, or the dark fear on the faces of both convicted and free huddled in the crowd.
 

Dot Hutchison

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This is from one of my trunked-for-the-time-being pieces.

History is written by those who survive it, and therefore usually by those who merely watched it happen from a safe distance. We call them historians, and we thank them for giving us dry, dusty accounts of things wholly unconnected to them, except, perchance, by coincidence. They live their lives surrounded by the sanctuary of their books, then write their own, thus completing the rather limited purpose of their existence.
 

Rufus Coppertop

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Nathan’s heart leapt as he spotted Rufina crossing the cobblestones a block and a half away.
Hoping to catch her, he took off, sprinting past the temple of Woden, the hardware shop and the police tower.
With boots pounding on the pavement, he was charging towards the corner when a gaggle of alchemists in robes and skull caps spilled out of their guild house ahead.
 

WriteMinded

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This is from one of my trunked-for-the-time-being pieces.

History is written by those who survive it, and therefore usually by those who merely watched it happen from a safe distance. We call them historians, and we thank them for giving us dry, dusty accounts of things wholly unconnected to them, except, perchance, by coincidence. They live their lives surrounded by the sanctuary of their books, then write their own, thus completing the rather limited purpose of their existence.

Untrunk it!
 

#1Jennifer

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My current untitled WIP;

I wasn’t prepared for death, at least not in the moment that it came for me. I was so concentrated on the task at hand that I’d never realized the smoke in the air or the silent footsteps of half of the townsmen. Horrified gazes stared around me and I screamed out in anger.
 

Lyxdeslic

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Theo crossed the reef, still unable to stand head above water. No matter, it’d been two months and ten days this time.

Another couple minutes without air certainly wasn’t going to kill him.

Lyx
 

roonil_wazlib

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Not quite sure what I'll do with this idea yet, but I quite like where it's going so far. Sort of a dark comedy, I think. Hm.

When people asked Gavin Anderton about the day his wife died, he would always conveniently leave out the bit where he turned and vomited into the bushes beside his front door as he realised what the officers were doing at his house.

Alright, so maybe it's not three lines, but that is the entire first paragraph :D
 

Fame<Infamy

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A bit from the prologue of my current WIP:

[FONT=&quot] Even in the dim light Pearl’s presence seemed to tower well above her actual height. She crouched next to the open grave with the lantern dipped down into the hole. The flickering yellow light played over her features, painting them a golden hue. [/FONT]
 

Priene

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The bus, technically a minivan, was cramped, shabby, and fuel-inefficient. It had seen action in the Great Hippy Summer, when it carted addled Southport youths to druggy Mediterranean hangouts. Bill reclaimed the vehicle from the yard of his father -- once a stalwart of the Rawtenstall folk scene but in later years an aggressive and pessimistic Altrincham binman -- and Jacob had spent some weeks two summers ago renovating it to a state where it could ferry the housemates four miles to the University. The chassis was excessively corroded, there were questions about the engine's reliability, and the seat covers reeked of marzipan.
.
 
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