“Every single day, I wish I hadn’t taken up that case.”
My personal favorites are:
• Oh Crap.
• It's not every day you read or hear something like this, but I think you should stick that knife into a toaster.
• For future reference, the answer will always be no.
• Motorcycles are the Eiffel Tower.
Kiko Jade Takahashi knew many things about the world- however one of them was not the blueprint of LAX airport. She was lost. Hopelessly lost.
Mr. and Mrs. Daysburough were made out to be the model family of Clearwater, a small town on the small island Dou, just east of the mainland, with their daughter Sari.
Every morning was like this, for as long as she could remember. Teirya’s eyes slowly flickered open, taking in her room, with sleepy, light dazzled eyes, from where she was curled on the floor, swathed comfortably in blankets of softened, elegant dragonscale, her arm comfortably lifting her head up, legs kicking outwards, feet just grazing opposite sides of the clean, circular room.
-"I've been here for two whole weeks and they still don't know."
-"Religion is a dangerous idea."
-"She was getting too used to the taste of blood. It would've been fine, but it wasn't her own."
Mine is a normal everday romantic/comedy
- Kelly slowly peered down, all over her hand and dripping down to the floor was her morning coffee, she'd never really talked to her crush before and this wasn't a great first impression.
The night was quiet. Almost too quiet.
Evelin had her eyes wide open, tense in anticipation. The soft thudding of footsteps came closer to the bedroom.
Closer… closer…
I never know what to do when girls cry.
(For the fanfic I'm writing.) Katara is six years old when she punches her soulmate in the face.
I writing a teenage romance which is based on a twisted LGBT+ love square of the children of the rich and famous (made up characters).
First Line: "Logan Stewart. Claire Robinson. The most perfect couple according to Teen Vogue."
I have split the sentence like this because I want the last line to be "I love you." So when placed next to each other it will be "Logan Stewart. I love you."
What do you think?
I have two different books I'm writing, one is kinda serious, and the other is complete derp.
it's pretty easy to figure out which is which :3
1: Crow held his breath. One second. Two seconds. Silence.
2: Griffin rolled over and tried to get comfy so he could fall asleep again, he was half awake and didn't want to get up yet. 'why haven't I fallen off the bed yet?' he thought as he continued to roll away.
Breathing deeply Jessica swallowed the turkey meat, she'd never thought that her veganism would end like this.
My favourite first line out of everything I've written is from a poem. It kinda translate to:
This will be a terrible poem,
Optimism is everything I guess…
Here's what I'm planning:
The clanging ring of a hammer on hot steel filled the caverns where the Dragon worked, and then a loud snap!
"Dammit."
We never went back into those woods. At least, not until a few weeks ago.
I have a couple:
As it turned out, plotting a coup wasn't nearly as hard as it sounded.
This one is dialogue:
"Shh! Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"Exactly. Since when was it so quiet in here?"
I've got a few:
Lillian woke up on a boat she had no recollection of getting into. That was her first hint that things were going to go wrong.
The bleak expanse of packed dirt spread far as they could see. Spectators milled about, ready for the show. Dread held the air in its iron grip; the duellers had arrived.
There was a time on Earth when peace reigned. Happiness fueled Love, and Love fueled Life. The notion of “I’m like this, you’re like that, so I'm more important” was simply nonexistent. No one was ashamed of who they were, and no one had to hide. Magic was known to all, spreading its wonder, giving the air its sweet scent and colorful tint. All was well.
Obviously, this didn't last.
"In this story, there is no happy ending."
I'm doing the first few scentences instead. I also kinda want to see if anyone can guess what the story is about.
Heavy dark gray smoke lay as a blanket on the air as people ran screaming. Ash and embers floated downward like snow. Fires burned.
Everything was black all around him. He had been feeling nothing but pain for many years now. He wanted to die, but that was never going to happen.
I have lived a long life; too long some would say, and I’d have to agree with them on that part. How long have I lived for? I’ve seen the starts and ends of wars; the birth of a nation, and many fantastical things come to fruition that many people now take for granted.
The fog crawled through the town, wrapping it in its arms. Amidst the fog stood a single figure, whose features could not be seen. All that could be made out of the figure was that it apparently wore a shroud, and wielded a long ax.
Max opened his eyes and looked around the dark room.
"Alice?" He whispered, the little effort sending pain through his chest as he tried to move into a better position. He was handcuffed and leaning against the wall of….somewhere. He didn't remember much, only being hit in the head. He raised his hand to his face and wiped blood from his nose. His suit was torn, his ribs ached, and his wife was nowhere to be found.
"Alice?" He said, louder this time, and a menacing voice that he didn't recognize replied.
"Hello, Maxwell Darby."
And then he blacked out again.
I'm doing the first few scentences instead. I also kinda want to see if anyone can guess what the story is about.
Heavy dark gray smoke lay as a blanket on the air as people ran screaming. Ash and embers floated downward like snow. Fires burned.
Everything was black all around him. He had been feeling nothing but pain for many years now. He wanted to die, but that was never going to happen.
I have lived a long life; too long some would say, and I’d have to agree with them on that part. How long have I lived for? I’ve seen the starts and ends of wars; the birth of a nation, and many fantastical things come to fruition that many people now take for granted.
The fog crawled through the town, wrapping it in its arms. Amidst the fog stood a single figure, whose features could not be seen. All that could be made out of the figure was that it apparently wore a shroud, and wielded a long ax.
is this dude the embodiment of death?
is this dude the embodiment of death?
I think he's the Grim Reaper (which is basically the same thing)
I'm doing the first few scentences instead. I also kinda want to see if anyone can guess what the story is about.
Heavy dark gray smoke lay as a blanket on the air as people ran screaming. Ash and embers floated downward like snow. Fires burned.
Everything was black all around him. He had been feeling nothing but pain for many years now. He wanted to die, but that was never going to happen.
I have lived a long life; too long some would say, and I’d have to agree with them on that part. How long have I lived for? I’ve seen the starts and ends of wars; the birth of a nation, and many fantastical things come to fruition that many people now take for granted.
The fog crawled through the town, wrapping it in its arms. Amidst the fog stood a single figure, whose features could not be seen. All that could be made out of the figure was that it apparently wore a shroud, and wielded a long ax.
is this dude the embodiment of death?
Hmmmm. Nice idea, but no, he isn't.
I'm doing the first few scentences instead. I also kinda want to see if anyone can guess what the story is about.
Heavy dark gray smoke lay as a blanket on the air as people ran screaming. Ash and embers floated downward like snow. Fires burned.
Everything was black all around him. He had been feeling nothing but pain for many years now. He wanted to die, but that was never going to happen.
I have lived a long life; too long some would say, and I’d have to agree with them on that part. How long have I lived for? I’ve seen the starts and ends of wars; the birth of a nation, and many fantastical things come to fruition that many people now take for granted.
The fog crawled through the town, wrapping it in its arms. Amidst the fog stood a single figure, whose features could not be seen. All that could be made out of the figure was that it apparently wore a shroud, and wielded a long ax.
Seems kinda like a scary book with the main character being either an immortal or just an old guy
"I have two motives: spite and aesthetic."
