You get one vote a week. Scroll to the bottom to find the poll button and vote for your favorite first line!
Don’t forget, voting closes Wednesday at 10pm EST.
ALSO: This week we had one disqualification for not posting AND one person stepping aside. So, only 1 person will be eliminated this week – I know :( – but that gives each of you even better odds of making the cut!
They say you can’t go home again, but then they’ve never been down to their last hundred bucks when home called demanding their return. Which was how Evie Bell found herself driving back into town in her ancient Civic with one suitcase full of clothes and a big box of adult toys her best friend had given her as a going away present.
“So, the aliens gave you a list of people they want.” Larry King sat back in his chair and regarded the White House Press Secretary.
The thick cloud of confusion occupying my thoughts lifted and was instantly replaced by paralyzing fear. My body stiffened as my mind raced uncontrollably with realization; this harsh, sterile, environment was unfamiliar.
“Carey Breen is MIA.”
His lips and tongue measure, weighing each word to cause the most pain.
Freezing rain lashed the angel’s face and dripped rivulets down his bare chest and back, soaking his wool breeches. He shoved long locks of hair out of his eyes.
After waking, I sit upright in bed with my head held in my hands, the after-image of the dream burned into my retinas like the too-close flash of a camera. At first I was afraid that my screams would bring the orderlies running, but only the soft cadence of casual speech emanates from the hall.
There are two rooms my mom and I don’t rent folks at our motel: No. 3 has all kinds of problems with the plumbing and the wiring never works right, but the main problem is No. 13… it eats people.
No blood, guts, or gore… if they go in they just won’t come out and that means we’d have to hide another car.
I never saw the truck coming. It’s the story of my life, I get blindsided by something that’s obvious to everyone else.
When the phone call came from a man identifying himself as an attorney in Ohio, Rowena’s first thought was, who’s in jail this time? She’d had her fill of phone calls from attorneys.
Stretched on the beach while the sun dried his plated skin, Troy waited to suffocate. Beside him, the she-dragon Cressida lay unmoving with her snout covered in gritty sand and her tail curled, entwined around her new favorite.
The night after the biggest promotion of my life, I woke up with a monster hangover and my bra on backwards. I tried to recall how I’d reached the back seat of my Honda Accord, but everything from the previous night blurred into memories my mind refused to hold.
Lady Phoebe Howard had been in and out of trouble all her life; but kidnapping was new ground, even for her. She grunted as her knees hit cold wet earth.
Lucy shoved the door to the laundry room open with her fanny, struggling to keep hold of the basket, detergent, and the baggie of quarters clenched in her teeth.
“Hello there, need some help?”
There were a lot of hot girls at F—town–Bucktown–High, but the one I really took notice of was the cute little Asian girl with tawny-brown hair and blue-gray eyes. And even though she had damn-she’s-fine good looks, I was more drawn to the constant softness in her eyes that really got me thinking that maybe she could understand me when no one else could.
I stood at the crime scene with police tape tangled in my trembling hands and the taste of blood in my mouth. I couldn’t remember how I got there and that scared me more than the murders.
If this alien doesn’t die soon, I’m gonna be late for cheerleading practice. Somehow I don’t think Coach Harbinger will take Sorry, I had to save the world from an alien invasion as a legit excuse.
Damian O’Brien’s rumpled trench coat showed evidence of oregano pesto. It didn’t take a homicide detective to see he’d had Italian for lunch before the four nineteen had ended his meal.
Somewhere between dessert and my second glass of chardonnay, I realized my date was a male prostitute. I sipped my wine and tried not to choke on the realization that my so called best friend had set me up.
You would think that waking up in a coffin, buried six feet under would be the lowest moment of my day—but you would be wrong. Oh sure, it wasn’t exactly a highlight either but you see, I wasn’t dead and in my dirt smudged notebook of The Rules, that meant I had a chance.
Miss Marcia Elizabeth Drummond snatched the ivory invitation from the salver and perused the elegant handwriting. Dashing away a tear that clung stubbornly to her lashes, she wished six years of accumulated shame could be brushed away as easily.
“On behalf of Historic Philadelphia Alive, I’d like to welcome you to the City of Brotherly Love.”
I smile at the small group waiting for me inside the Independence Visitor Center as I take their tickets, relieved that my last tour of the long Fourth of July day consists of only four elderly couples, three generic tourists, two Jersey Shore cast wannabes, and a mom pushing a little boy in a stroller.
My first memory of James is what keeps me here, smoothing hair out of a boy’s blood-spattered face. The sirens screaming in the distance are too late.