Opening Lines

Thanks Caroline Hennrikus Lentz for letting us use this incredible photo for opening lines!

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Jessie: Patrice thought she heard a soft splash just before she felt a strike against the back of her head.

Liz: I wasn’t sure if it was the fog or if my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I swore I saw my sister Cara walking along the banks of the lake, like she always did when we were kids here on summer vacation. But it couldn’t have been – Cara has been dead for ten years.

Edith: I’ve never been a strong swimmer. But after someone pulled on my foot from underwater, you can bet I got to the dock in triple time.

Barb: Never plan a destination wedding on the River Styx.

Julie: My sister always took her theme parties a little too seriously. Getting the fog just right took a few hours to figure out, but as long as the dry ice didn’t sink, it was all good. She was a little worried about her husband in the Loch Ness suit, but he promised he’d figure out the breathing apparatus. Fifteen ten year old boys were going to arrive within the hour. What could possibly go wrong?

Readers: Add your opening line for this photo!

This entry was posted in Group posts, Opening Lines and tagged , by Sherry Harris. Bookmark the permalink.

About Sherry Harris

Sherry Harris started bargain hunting in second grade at her best friend’s yard sale. She honed her bartering skills as she moved around the country while her husband served in the Air Force. Sherry uses her love of garage sales, her life as a military spouse, and her time living in Massachusetts as inspiration for the Sarah Winston Garage Sale series. Tagged for Death, first in the series, will be out in December 2014.

28 thoughts on “Opening Lines

  1. The fog was slowly slipping across the lake dissipating as it moved towards the shore, and as it did the shape on the pier became more and more distinct, Cameron stepped closer and peered trying to see though the fluffy air. Was that Jack’s duffle bag? No, it couldn’t be, he’d tripped over it in the living room of the cabin as he’d headed out on the back deck, he’d have to talk to Jack about that when he finally got up. And then the fog shifted just enough, and he knew Jack wouldn’t be waking up any time soon.

  2. I strained to see the two wooden diving platforms through the mist. I shivered, and Jake hugged me closer. I thought about the diary I’d found hidden deep in my mother’s attic, two days after her death. The last entry was the reason I was standing here in the cold. June 12, 1942. I gave him a hard push. When the police found his body, the fish had made away with most of what used to be Dino DeLuca. God forgive me. (I know, that’s like 6 lines…)

  3. As I stood on the shore of the lake in the early morning fog, I shivered, but it was from fear more than cold. Watching a Friday the 13th marathon hadn’t been the smartest way to spend the night. Still, I was determined to swim out to the platforms and back. After all, the guys in the cabin had dared me, and I couldn’t back down.

    If I’d know what was waiting for me on the second platform, I would have backed down no matter what the consequences were.

    (And Barb’s line needed to come with a spit take warning.)

  4. An old Native legend says that ghosts walk when the lake is shrouded in fog. I never believed it until the morning my dead husband walked toward me out of the mist.

  5. As she watched the fog roll over the lake, she knew there would be not better time to get rid of the body. She looked down at him and said one last goodbye, then dragged his bloodied body to the shore. Where had she found the strength to lift his dead weight into the canoe? Maybe all the years of pain and anger had actually empowered her. She rowed out to the dock, climbed out then reached in to pull the drain plug. As she watched the canoe slowly take his body down into the dark water, a small smile spread across her lips.

  6. It’s a phenomenon we mountain folks take for granted–the way the mist settles over land and water at night when the day’s heat seeps back up into the atmosphere–but we didn’t know smoke behaved the same until it engulfed the floating docks, our last refuge from the killer wildfire.

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