ITT: First line of your never-to-be-published novel

Crippling debt is a humorous and toxic creation of self deception, extending its deranged tenticles into the corners of even the best maintained of minds.

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CLICK—Is that it? Am I dead now? I can still hear the wind howling past my bedroom window.

How a window opens is not the opposite how it closes.

I don't remember much from my dreams but I do remember this one detail in all of my dreams.

I don't write in Engl*Sh so that's a translation

He used to have a habit of throwing apart the curtains so quickly and pulling the blinds so violently, that not a single dying patient had any time to react when he next said "Good morning, is it a good morning? Today?"

Chinese food is sticky, sweet, and honestly just shit.

Even though I watch them all day my knowledge of what we do is very limited.

If you will look inside, you'll see an old, abandoned house, through the broken windows wind whistles dullly, rushing through gloomy, empty rooms, throwing leaves on the floor, long mixed in the corner with moist dust, scraps of yellowed newspapers and faded photographs, with hardly legible silhouettes of strict figures and gray faces on them, all that remains of those who once filled these miserable, dilapidated walls with the sounds of life and the breath of eternity.
A ladder fastening under hesitant steps goes up the dilapidated stairs, first to the second, then to the third, fifth, seventh floors, differing from each other only in the depth of the melancholy depression, the higher up the aphids emitted from the boards, the more empty doors openings appear more ghostly and blurry, recently left behind, like deceptive beacons pointing the way back. The endless labyrinths of corridors, the crackle of broken glass under the sole, the rustle of crumbling masonry, or can it just be breathtaking anxiety?
Here a shadow flickered behind a rickety bookshelf, no, it was only the wind that shook the tattered curtain on the window, suddenly a dull cough touched her cheek with a cold, made him involuntarily turn back. Back. Behind, where until recently there were traces on a thick layer of dust, now only darkness is visible, cold and frightening, filled with someone's presence, gaze piercing through, another moment and the heart will forever stop from this dead invisible grip, with a bony hand glaring at throat. Hardly looking ahead, now led by flickers of light drowning in the clouds of the moon, falling on a pale shadow of a lonely soul forever locked in the emptiness of these rooms, delirious, now only up, there is no longer any way back. The steps have ended, here it is, the top floor, the peak of despair, around the wooden arches of the roof, like the bony ribs of a huge beast, appear through the flesh of darkness. Horror envelops the whole body from the outside, it comes from cracks in the walls, flows in stale air, penetrates through the eyes, nostrils, pale lips, and burns with cold, burns and corrodes from the inside. It’s not walls, it’s a womb, I’m in the stomach of fear, it exudes its juices, devouring me alive, unable to endure this terrible pain, rushing around in darkness surrounded by panic and foreboding of death, what is it? The saving light in the distance, I rush to it. Over there, it's the moon! This is the light of the moon! And clouds, white as ships, floating high above! I survived! I am saved! Another step and I'm free! Another step ... and ... there is a dull crack under your feet. The dilapidated wooden attic balcony crashed down. In the cobblestone courtyard in the moonlight there is a black pool of blood, and in it a broken body, pale and cold, white clouds floating in the frozen, glassy eyes, lit by a bright moon in the middle of a winter night. If you'll look inside, you'll see an old abandoned house...

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Dawn broke like a vase.

I know this is usually meant for joke answers. But here's the unironic, first-draft first sentence of my 21st century satirical novel.
>"In the early afternoon on the day before the annual Pride parade, a young man and two brawny accomplices appeared at the corner of Market and Sanchez and there, set-up a small dais made of milk crates."

>There.
>There?
>No, salak, THERE!”
>His bronzed, plump finger traces elliptical a tiny silhouette of a plane.

This is what he always wanted, to escape, to disappear, to fade away.

136 KB JPG
If you will look inside, you'll see an old, abandoned house, through the shattered windows flows the wind, rushing through empty rooms, scattering the leaves long laying on the floor, mixed in the corner with clots of dust, scraps of fading, yellowed paper, forgotten photographs with washed out silhouettes of strict figures wearing gray faces, all that remains of those who once lived within these dilapidated walls with the sounds of life and the breath of eternity.
A ladder of sound goes up the stairs under hesitant steps, floor after floor differing from each other only in the depth of their depression, the higher up the aphids of dust awakened from the boards rise, the more the vacant doorways blur, recently left behind, like deceptive beacons falsely lighting the way back. The endless maze of corridors, the crunch of broken glass under the heel, the sound of crumbling masonry, or could it just be the manifestation of deepening anxiety?
Here and there a shadow flickers, behind a bookshelf, no, it was only the breeze that shook the tattered curtain, suddenly a dull cough

Well fuck that, I fixed half of your trash story, fix the rest then come back

>annual Pride parade
Stopped reading right there

The night was humid.

kek

cringe

He's setting up a soap box on the eve of the pride parade...what do you think he's going to say?

Thanks, saved it. It's a story about closed loop inner journey, it repeats on and on, as the character enters himself, walks in the spaces inside, reaches the pinnacle and then returnes to where he started from.

The day I found out I had stage 3 lymphatic cancer was the best day of my life.

Either how good or bad homosexuality is

If its pro LGBT I've heard that story and I disagree
If its anti LGBT by making it the focal point of your story, you legitimize them, they can claim to be victims if you attack them. Make the LGBT aspect a small part of the sea of societal decay, see the bigger picture, don't make such a narrow attack

Harold existed.

taking off her pants with his cock in his hand, he hadn't expected her corpse to void its bowels.

It's not a narrow field of attack, but the Pride parade provides the backdrop. The young speaker emphasizes that pride does not lead to good things; that there's nothing to be proud about something you can't change. He's not directly homophobic, but questions the wisdom of celebrating pride, vanity, and hedonism. And he gets shutdown by a group of NPCs.

i kind of like this.

I am seated in an office, surrounded by heads and bodies.

A body is seated on my head, surrounded by an office.

I am surrounded by bodies, heads sitting on offices.

There was a post once where a dude amped this up to 11 and went on and on. It was fucking hilarious and took genuine talent. Wish I could find it again.

I by bodies, am surrounded office heads an and in seated.

Right off I am telling you there will be no lies.

The valleys bled on virgin snow.

Wow, sounds like a barrel of laughs, I can't wait for it to (never) be published. Don't use fiction to force a political agenda, that's how you become Ayn Rand. If you really want to question the intent behind Pride, then write an essay. But you will probably never do that because that would require thorough, in-depth research into the LGBT community.

I can't parse this image. How does a valley "bleed"?

Horny and lonely, yet again.

i hate niggers.

change vase to hymen

actually don't i'm taking that line for myself.

I am heads seated in bodies by an office, and surrounded .

It was a dark and stormy night.

cringe

based

Aujourd'hui OP est gay

On the third day they realized they were being followed.

I pulled back the bolt on the .338 and started to reload as I hear her come up the path.

I saw the Yea Forums server room, and this is when I struck.

Exactly. It subsequent sentences give it context (it’s a metaphor for the extraction of oil from the earth as it splatters like blood on the ground as it comes out), but the idea was to catch the readers eyes with a sentence that was a contradiction on it’s own.

I actually like these

Are you the guy that wrote that awful "Trigger Warning" novel?

"I tought that would be more fullfilling" boy tought after had shoot hes load in your mothers throat...

No. I can't take credit for that.

The first few lines play out with lots of swearing. After setting a tense scene in a brief few lines, I then reveal that it's actually just two kids talking about something trivial.

E.g. Could open with something like one character complaining about being stabbed in the back, having everything taken from him, etc. A few lines later the reveal: they're just playing a video game and the kid got killed and looted by his supposed online friend, and that is what he was bitching about in the first line.

With the right amount of grimness in the opening, and a well-delivered abrupt reveal, I feel it could achieve a smile.

I'm sure it has been done before.

Dzień jak co dzień, dzień po dniu, wciąż się dzieje życia smrut.

The streets of Santa Vaca became that dawn into the abbysal bottom of a mirk hot dog water ocean, and few mummies and cavefishes haunted barely real nooks sucking detritus out of the asphalt. A man of anachronistic traits covered in a comically bulky coat abandoned a quiescent doorway and stood there smugly for 2 minutes, waiting for some bored soul to talk to.

Get get get get got got got got.

We live in a society.

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KEK

Stop crying now. You're wetting my balls too much, her customer said after a while.

weird word choices
are you ESL?

I actually like this one. Gj

Everything lubed up, he gently eased it inside her; the catheter bag began to fill.

This was the third time he'd shat himself in front of Mr. Blunkett.

Thanks

>As eight o'clock chimed on the eastern seaboard an unheard wind slew threw the pressure orbs of Celestia.

If you're going to shitpost at least do it well, Christ almighty.

My novel stars three main characters, each of whom are directly unrelated to each other but who know people who know people who knows them, so there are common side characters within their own lives.
The point is that the first three chapters are meant to be introductions to each of them, so I consider those three first lines like a first line for the book that extends for a while.
>Chapter 1
"I love the rain"
>Chapter 2
"I hate the rain"
>Chapter 3
"It's raining"

I lay in my bed these days waiting for the treatment to fail, so that I can leave my family to go on without hope, only sobering reality.

Things began poorly and then rapidly got worse.

Death knocked twice at my door when I was on the road, the dog whispered.

Yes and no. Using fiction to explore ideas is bad, but using fiction to explore the people behind those ideas is proper and good.

call me israel

Huge big cums landed on the fur coat.

Bump

I'd read that. What would the book be about?

I liked the idea, user.

Thank you.

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Only good one

It is time- the stars are aligned with my magical priapism and the zodiac's turning will finish in a swelling, gushing display that will overflow the very chalice of the King of Cups.

Fuck niggers.

Great, now I'm gonna have to get to working on it. Thanks for the encouragement.

The girl moaned through the walls, and I wept.

The tuxedoed frog stood up and struck his wine glass three times. He cleared his throat, a loud and proper sound that instantly summoned the attention of everyone in the thread.

I believe in evil when I look at myself in the mirror; dyeing my hair blonde, had made no difference to reality.

Based.
Fine
And the joke answers tend to be better than the serious try hard attempts by far. Though guess it makes sense given the lower pressure to deliver.
Not sure whether fine or cringe.
Yikes.
Maybe.
Not terribly creative but still a cute way to do it.

Found the rest unremarkable.

>I downed another pill and took a sit at my usual place facing the fire. As slightly blurry visions of Semyon Nomokonov's spirit started dancing in the inferno before me, I felt a tug at my shoulder. Another vision, now tactile, of Jane Gallagher appeared at my right. The Taiga Shaman started his usual chanting. The time has finally come.

Whatever you bring into a solitude grows.
Mud stains on your shoes, or
Ravenous hunger, shades of blacks or blues,
Rains upon you like snow in a globe.

"Christian morality tells us rape is wrong."

I condemn the submission to Allah

"This is all a joke."

The first time I witnessed death eludes my memory, but I know for certain that I was naked, bathed in blood and I screamed louder than my victim.

Bretty gud.

Just came up with it now. Maybe I could expand it into a short story; however feel free to use it yourself if you like.

the cum disabled some of the buttons on the keyboard, it was then that he decided to leave for the woods

I stared intently into her eyes as the veil of death fell upon them; my quest to find the spark of life in another human being had failed, and I continued to be the only living creature in existence.

mfw my back space button is is very sticky now because of this

Sticky on the outside or the inside?

inside, tried cleaning it, luckily its a cheap redragon keyboard i bought a year ago, about time i upgrade this thing anyway, you know its funny, everytime im about to nut and stand up, i tell myself, this time i will hold the tissue well, i will control my nut, and around 65 percent of the time it unexpectedly goes way farther thn expected, or sometimes even sideways, thats usually when i do it too furiously and i think about my online love i had with some asian chick out of new york i ghosted because im a coward and my mind goes numb, i really dont know how to stop these unfortunate events

Why do you feel the need to stand up when you nut? I never get up and the worst that has ever happened has been a sticky floor. That's easier to take care of than a computer.

i read somewhere that if you stand up, bow your knees a bit and just let yourself relax cumming is better

Never heard of that before. The quality of my nuts is highly inconsistent, so maybe I've been doing it wrong all this time. Still, not worth cumming over my computer.

its important to relax and let go, let go of your breath, try to free your brain so to say, lighten your breath, do not, at any moment clench, just be free all the way till you are done cumming, and at the very end you can clench a bit to finish off, bend the knees a bit and stand up

Thanks for the lesson; I appreciate it. I hope you figure out how not to spray your keyboard with semen.

Vendredi soir, j'étais invité à une soirée chez un collègue du travail.

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Thanks, i think its mainly i use toilet paper as my tissue while i should probably use a cum rag or something. I hope your new masturbation sessions will be a bit more consistent now.

Peut-être qu'il soit parce que c'est en français, mais je crois que c'est une bonne phrase pour le début d'une histoire.

Just tried your advice; it worked.

She glistened terribly under the moonlight, a lock of hair held lovingly between broken fingers.

There're a lot of corpses in the opening lines ITT.

>I need a job. A rimjob.

James the mighty businessman checked his watch for the time.

I like this; seems like it could be a charming tale for children.

Laying in the grass.

The coroner concluded his report in a few hours and declared the cause of death a suicide, hardly time for the rigor mortis to cease.

really cute user :3

Kate is dead; long live Meghan.

The best part always happened at forty thousand feet.

A whiff of that bussy and Old Johnny had the stanky nose for a week.