Ten first lines

I’m still on the Bradbury theme from the other day, “You have to inject yourself with a little fantasy every day in order not to die of reality.” 

So I decided Sunday I would would do a journal exercise of 10 opening lines to potential short stories. Which one should I do first? (The first one will be familiar since I’ve already done two blog posts about it.)

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The dragon settled in our backyard one sunny afternoon just before the end of winter.

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Tom Cole Piper carried his magic guitar slung over his shoulder like a rifle.

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If ever there was a perfect day for a grumpy gnome to cross Susan Winkel’s path, this wasn’t that day.

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When I say I never expected a unicorn to walk into my insurance agent’s office and take a dump, I’m as serious as the day is long — and this was the summer solstice.

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Do mermaids wear mascara? Asking for a friend.

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In the old stories a Martian base always has some generic name like Mars Alpha One. In real life it’s just home.

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The sun rose, gray and alien, and Hal Spenser had no interest in seizing any day.

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“Are you sleepy?”
“Very much so, and all of a sudden …”
“Yeah — I meant to do that,” waving an empty packet.
“What?! Why?! You little …”
“Yes, that’s what I am all right.”

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Of all the seedy bars in all the planets in half the galaxy, she walks into mine.

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I met the creature in the field next to my house, when I was 8 years old. I saved its life, and this is how he returned the favor.

Published by WarrenBluhm

Wordsmith and podcaster, Warren is a reporter, editor and storyteller who lives near the shores of Green Bay with his wife, two golden retrievers, Dejah and Summer, and Blackberry, an insistent cat. Author of It's Going to Be All Right, Echoes of Freedom Past, Full, Refuse to be Afraid, Gladness is Infectious, 24 flashes, How to Play a Blue Guitar, Myke Phoenix: The Complete Novelettes, A Bridge at Crossroads, The Imaginary Bomb, A Scream of Consciousness, and The Imaginary Revolution.

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