Horror First Line Game
- Thread starter badducky
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Joe Burroughs was finishing his day turkey hunting when he saw the man stumble onto the road directly in the path of his beaten up old Ford F-150 pickup truck.
[FONT="]Zachary eased the shiny knife from its hidden sheath, and stood behind the shrubs. [/FONT]
The guillotine blade dropped with a resounding thud, but the severed head looked up from the basket, smiled at the Grand Inquisitor, and silently mouthed we are legion.
A thing, made of shadow and mud and slime and nameless abominations, squirmed up and out of the crack in the floorboards and made it's way slowly, painfully, awfully across the kitchen floor to the house cat's food dish.
We made them to kill us, to help keep our numbers, our population, in check, to act as wolves in our fold - as if we needed anything like that when we've always been our own worst enemy.
The pencil called him, pulling him in, drawing him to the blank page as a slave to his mistress.
Please don't kill the cat!
Nice beginnings. I read the Joe Burroughs story!
I have a Joe, too, and I don't like my current first line, so I might go with:
First it was the old basement door, then the man - the shadow - on the stairs, and last, the smell in the half-finished room; to Joe, it all added up to 'I don't like this place.'
[FONT="]“This is it,” Davey said to his mother on the day he returned from his freshman year at college. “This is the summer I’m going to change my body.”[/FONT]
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Her arms itched, like irritably itched to the point scratching wasn't doing the job, and didn't feel it, but peels of skin fell to the ground as she clawed her flesh off.
He wrecked my house, broke my heart and now of course he wanted to swallow my soul, it was just one of those days.
I recoiled, struggling to break free from the grip of the thing that used to be my friend as its head split in two down the middle and a tongue-like appendage lashed out.
The exorcist looked remarkably like the late Leslie Nielsen; but the silent nuns' doubts did not seriously escalate until, mumbling some arcane Latin incantation, he brought forth the rubber chicken from his time-worn valise.
With his bifurcated tongue placed firmly in cheek, the hellspawned bureaucrat straightened the lapels of his three-piece suit, smiled, and oozed, "I'm from the government - I'm here to help you."
The hell with hazzard pay, I want my dry cleaning paid, do you know how expensive it is to get demon guts out of white silk?
Thick caustic ooze dripping from my pores on to her naked flesh while we made love was never my intent.
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