posted
I will post the first bunch of 13 lines on this thread.
This is a thread for READING the intros only. PLEASE DO NOT POST ON THIS THREAD OR COMMENT ON THE INTROs AT ALL. The point is that people choose the intro they prefer and are not influenced (even unconsciously) by who wrote it or by what others say.
[This message has been edited by skadder (edited December 10, 2007).]
“So this is the beginning?” Nate asked, “I mean, this is really IT?” Zack smiled his broadest , “The very thing.” He edged closer to his partner and nudged his elbow at the small of Nate's back. Nate looped Zack's arm, eyes fixed on a horizon stained by nitrogen and iron-oxide. The two watched, rapt, as the ancient sunrise first winked at them from across the boiling sea. “That's just... incredible.” Nate murmured. Zack felt the moment called for a little narration, “And so, Nate, I give you the FIRST sunrise on the planet Earth. It's all downhill from here.” Nate's suit-light bumped against Zack's as his partner
A thump woke me. Throwing back the silken sheets, I sat up and gazed at the swath of light that did not quite reach the foot of the bed. If not for that bathroom light, I might've forgotten where I was. I chastised myself for falling asleep in my lover's bed. It was sloppy. I leaned over Dianne's still body to give her a kiss and tell her I was leaving. But when my hand met her bare shoulder it was cold, too cold. Then I felt wetness seep over my hand and creep down the crease between my leg and the bed. I scuttled off of the bed, my heart pounding, and into the aisle of light. Blood. Oh, God. There was so much blood. I felt it crawling down my leg. What was I to do? Oh my God! I heard another thump, louder, that sounded like a door.
[This message has been edited by skadder (edited December 03, 2007).]
This god consumed thousands of sacrifices but I could be the first split open beneath his cardboard cutout. A drop of blood slides down the edge of his plastic ax, releases, and falls with a tiny splash on my yellow polo. Ted, the manager, said there was five different gods located in the store and a thousand years ago they all received regular offerings. I doubt Raul knew this when he decided to build an Aztec themed gas station. He spent a month gutting the old Gas N' Lube; replacing the red, white and blue colors with gold and teal patterns. He even commissioned a painter next month to replace the dull white ceiling with a tropical sun rise. From the floor I can see his red eyes inset with tiny blinking LEDs and his sacrifice bowl filled with packets of
The small hatch of the ship opened with a hiss as the pressure equalized and the five 'Tyr dropped out, landing, like the rest of their species, ready to fight. A quick glance told them they were in no immediate danger, and they proceeded to unload their cargo; a human, dressed in fine clothes, and limp. One of the 'Tyr picked him up, clicking his second jaw in annoyance of the man's weight. “He's heavy Arnalk,” said the 'Tyr in the deep barks and growls of their native language. Arnalk, the 'Tyr who was addressed nodded his snow-white head. He was different than the other four, his pure white fur in contrast to their mix of browns and tans. “I know. Humans get fat when they get rich.” The five
The first six weeks on the site were pretty mundane. Like every other dig, we removed the overburden soil down to the primary excavation area. Then we marked the grid, hammered the stakes, and stretched the strings. From there, we would trowel and scrape an inch at a time, searching for ancient artifacts from another time. Not that any treasures I helped unearth would bear my name. Such is the life of a lowly, un-paid archeology intern. At thirty-nine, I was well behind the curve in both age and experience. I also didn’t have a legacy placement to Harvard, or Yale, or Princeton. All I really had going for me was persistence and a good sense of humor. On my first day there, they refused to believe I was an
Some can relax with the world sinking deeper toward it’s doom, but not most. The rioting started right after the Announcement, when those useless morons at the World Health Agency told everyone to remain calm, but that it was most likely over. Whoever made this Last Plague knew his stuff, there’s no stopping it without his help. We’re all gonna get sick and drown in our own blood. Wasn’t happening here yet, but it just showed up in Boston yesterday, so it won’t be long now. “Hey Mike,” Jimmy said from over his beer at the end of the bar, “let’s watch something else.” I sent the remote sliding down the bar to him. “Be my guest.” The riots are on every station now, so there’s no point trying
“Finally, I am here,” said Kilna. After three hard hours up a forested mountain, he was glad to finally reach his destination. Back went he won the contract to regain the golden squid from the sunrise dragon’s cave; he did not think it was going to involve so much climbing. He knew that he was going to have to wait until dawn, because the sunrise dragon goes out to hunt at sunrise. He went to some nearby bushes and rested behind them. Kilna feel asleep waiting for morning, but was awoken by the sound of the dragon leaving. He saw the massive beast leaving the cave, and knew that it had to be the oldest dragon that he had every seen. After a few minutes, the dragon was gone from sight and Kilna ran into the cave. The cave was not very long
Colin the troubadour already knew the song that would kill Queen Basilea. He’d had years to compose it, after all. He followed Godwin, the chancellor who had hired him, into the throne room, reminding himself of all Godwin's reasons why Basilea must be killed; her massacres, tortures, coercions, performed in the name of her husband. Yes, better to think it was for those reasons he’d agreed to take her soul, and not because Basilea had rejected him. He licked his lips as the guards threw open the doors. He walked in Godwin’s shadow, even as his eyes sought out Basilea’s. He found himself trembling as he bowed before her. It had been nearly fifteen years—aged, she was even more beautiful than he remembered.
Stannedan’s concentric circles of Stones were crowded. People danced in sunwise circles, or faced the setting sun, or offered libations to their Ancestors at Bluestones. Children chased the lengthening shadows. Liam touched the oldest Stone. Squinting up at the heavy lintel bridging it to its neighbour, he mused on the spirit and sweat that built Stannedan. “Most ancient grandfather, we remember you. At last your design is finished. Tomorrow Stannedan signals its first Eostre.” What shall I make now? The making is done. Liam pushed the thought away and watched as another Sun Rider galloped into Stannedan and dismounted. An eager child took horse to water whilst Rider strode towards the pavilion—to Breanna, who
[This message has been edited by skadder (edited December 15, 2007).]
Professor John Davies held his breath and pressed his thumb onto the biometric lock on the HistWatch laboratory door. His hands shook with an aching lust; his presence wouldn't be questioned, even at this time of the night, but he was stealthy with an addict's guilt. Tonight he would watch people from twenty-five centuries ago. That wasn't bad; but the board wouldn't approve of what he wanted to see them do. The door hissed open, revealing the giant black panels and chrome bars of HistWatch III. It loomed over him like a lacquered insect. He tugged its handle, sloppy with anticipation, and clambered into position. He wore loose-fitting trousers, but already he had to adjust himself. His breathing was shallow as he smacked
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