|Posted on Monday, October 03, 2005 - 02:36 pm: |
Yeah, I know, I am being boring and reposting this one again. Sorry if you've already seen me post this elsewhere (as some of you know I have many "elsewheres"). :-)
Post the first line of each of your works-in-progress.
Here goes, in no particular order, since I still haven't decided which of these projects I will focus on now... All are novels. I also have others, but there are no opening lines as yet.
He came to them in the dead of winter, asking for his Cobweb Bride. It was evening and there had been a silence, a break in the howling of the wind outside as the snow started to fall. Flakes of whiteness appeared gray like drifts of smoke through the frost-blurred glass of the myriad windows of the Winter Palace of Lethe. The snowflakes were faint and vaporous spinnings of an ice spider.
Airealm (Book One of Airealm Trilogy)
The world floats in pieces all around us. All we do is collect and anchor them in place with the Power of Up and Down.
I'll always remember that season. It was when he first came floating to our Clan Nest, and in one moment changed the course of my life.
The Hanged Woman (Book One, Adventures of Ruricca NoOnesDaughter)
"I want to buy your child," said the handsome gypsy. He leaned forward with his dark face, so that the young mother stepped back in alarm, clutching her infant.
"Chern," said a bright strong voice, "stop it."
Margot Phoenix Rising (Book One of the Margot Phoenix Quatrology or Quatrain?)
All right, this had to be the stupidest dream ever. Margot Phoenix, fearless and all-powerful heroine, stood silhouetted against the sunset at the doorway of the shanty town saloon... in a picturesque Alpine village... in Transylvania.
Gods of the Compass Rose (Book Two of the Compass Rose open-ended series)
There are gods who must blaze in the world, their glory blinding with the whiteness of sun at the apex of day. There are gods who prefer to remain in the shadows, biding their moments of presence, folded cleverly upon themselves like feathers in a dove's gray wing, and doling out tiny motes of divinity to the needful worshippers. There are gods who choose to be submerged in the lowest places of darkness, with forms huge and heavy and misshapen, approximating the condition of semi-existence that comes from lack of living movement.
And then there is the one god who hides and can be found in none of the divine places.
Lady of Monochrome (Book Two of the Rainbow Duology)
I am erotene, a sacred precious whore. And I am damned, cursed, chiseled from the inside into faceted jewel perfection, eaten, emptied like the ripe innards of a melon. Hollowed out by my piquant, metallic-flavored pearl of a life and made thin and fine and fragile with the conglomeration of years -- a petal of delicate rime upon glass -- and ruined by the one thing I can never have. And now as I sink into the final vaporous layers, veils of semi-light and glimmerings, I still think of this thing, still remember.
I remember it, the filthy beloved burning thing. It, thing, him.
He -- it, thing, man -- he, too, sinks into the veils with me.
And sinking, he burns in my inner vision, will be the last thing I see before all light goes out.