TheNextBigWriter Premium → Write the first sentence of this novel.
Write a first sentence for a novel, inspired by this painting. Credit here.
Feel free to share a different image (or link to one) for inspiration. I was looking for something in the public domain.
If anyone's interested! Just for fun...
It was a dark and stormy night when I opened the door to vent the smoke from the fireplace, not knowing the stranger in black would take my doing so as an invitation to sit in my rocking chair. Bwhahaha. Take care. Vern
Madame Rousseau's bare skin competed with the heat from the flames in the fireplace as she opened the door of the isolated cabin, her only thought, the preservation of the alien hybrid of black and white known as the Roswell Greys.
Take care. Vern
Nobody suspected that Alexander Grey had a weak heart until the night his girlfriend startled him, and after that it didn't matter. --The End
An empty room, he thought, until she pulled a gun from behind her back.
...as he turned the corner he nearly pooped his pants. For there she was, in all her glory, Miss America. A full decade before the word AMERICA held any meaning. This mysterious continent longing for a MISTRESS. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme...
Too quick for me to proper end the shivaree, he has sent them off, but I've warmed his chair at least.
Memphis
Ask again, she thought, for it means nothing -- but he had taken enough of her nothings, she knew, and with hat in hand, his heart gone to the shadows, he said only, "Goodbye, Virginia," until he was gone, leaving nothing, nothing all over again, bottomless, cowardly nothing.
Lizbet could feel his contempt, like a fire burning through the door, even before Carlos crossed the threshold and entered the cold and dark place where her only memories were of fear and sorrow.
Some women choose to be whores, some take to it out desperation and, others, like me were sold into by the someone we loved.
"Where, o where did I leave that fat mannequin?"
It was the last time John opened a door without knocking first.
"I've reconsidered Madeline. Will you take one-hundred pounds for the painting?"
Robert feared the worst when opened the door and Christina was nowhere to be seen; she should have climbed down the window again, hope with her clothes on this time.
He'll be rueing the day he told me I couldn't convert our new skyrise apartment into something to match his costume.
The metronome thump of the grandfather clock beside the door accompanied her husband’s slow beat up the stairs; but the typhoid had hollowed her when it took their baby and she couldn’t face the funeral, couldn’t face him, home now from the burial; couldn’t face a life with little Jessica not in it.
The rent, it needed to be paid she knew that; but oh, how she cursed her impoverishment and wished to God there was another way.
The rent, it needed to be paid she knew that; but oh, how she cursed her impoverishment and wished to God there was another way.
Second sentence: That little slut.
Okay, I'm sure if CB is still around, he'll inform me that ain't a sentence, but it's mine damn it. Take care. Vern
Elanor felt she was about to discover who'd been pissing on her parlour carpet.
"Just stopped in to say 'goodnight', my son. Sleep well.
After many hours waiting patiently for him, in her rocking chair beside the hearth, Henrietta hid quietly behind the door as she heard Frederick approach.
"A man and woman on either side of a door - it was such a horrible piece of art, I felt compelled to cut off my ear."
My eternal ambush she called it; her nightly ephemeral reanimation bringing defiled love back to me, of hands cold to the touch, of words echoing ghostly persuasions in wicked recriminations, and then the maddening, screeching laments of the dead; otherworldly accusations of her untimely murder, my part in it and a fiendish knowledge that Mr. Holmes would soon unearth the one clue I'd overlooked.
"Yes," she replied. "It's safe to come in." She snickered to herself as he made his way towards his favorite chair, hoping that in the low-lit room that he would not notice her handiwork. Never again would he rest comfortably, she promised herself.
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