Random First Line

Re: Random First Line

Postby Marlo » August 1st, 2015, 10:13 am

YES ^^^ i love that everyone is using them in their regular writing now

August 1, 2015

Everybody knows
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Marlo » August 2nd, 2015, 1:09 pm

August2, 2015

If you are reading this
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Azerri » August 2nd, 2015, 3:11 pm

Marlo wrote:August2, 2015

If you are reading this

(Also did the 100 word challenge with this lol )

If you are reading this, it means you have not been touched by the atrocities. It means I am gone, and not in the kind sense of the word. It means,  whether by sheer dumb luc, prowess and some intelligence, or both, that you have taken refuge in my home and discovered my secret room. You are not safe here, however. No one is ever safe here. Take what you can and run. Run as far as you can. Whatever you do, never look behind you. Never go to sleep, that is when they appear. Survive.

I am so sorry.
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Aziza » August 2nd, 2015, 3:31 pm

Marlo wrote:August 1, 2015

Everybody knows


Everybody knows, but no one is telling. There's a thickness in the air, but it isn't heat. Not moisture. Not smoke, nor fog, nor fire. It's knowledge. And they aren't sharing it. The secret they all know, but they aren't giving to me. It's something they've all discovered on their own and that makes it precious. Cherished. Divine. So they are unwilling to release it. Everybody knows and now it's my turn.
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Marlo » August 3rd, 2015, 1:33 pm

^^^ both of those had so much hidden suspense. SO good.


August 3, 2015

What Dorothy found
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Marlo » August 4th, 2015, 2:45 pm

August 4, 2015

Touching the edge
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Jaenelle » August 5th, 2015, 6:16 pm

Touching the edge


Touching the edge of the scar on your chest causes a shiver to race through your body. Rather a strange sensation really, considering this particular scar was from a wound that healed over five years ago. Even stranger is the fact that there is in fact a scar there to begin with. Vampire that you are, you heal perfectly, or almost perfectly - you have a grand total of two scars on your body: this one on your chest, and two small puncture holes on your neck.

Every other wound inflicted upon your body healed perfectly, no scarring whatsoever, nothing to show you'd even ever taken a hit. And lets face it, your body has seen its fair share of hits from fights, battles, and wars.

But you have a theory about these scars, these two scars that have stood the test of time. They’re your death scars. The puncture-holes in your neck ended your human life, where all the blood in your body was drawn from. The jagged-edge-scar on your chest was where a dagger was rammed home into your heart, a quick sure-fire way of killing a vampire like yourself.

Both scars signalled the end of life, undeath for one, complete death for the other.

You can’t help but wonder what your final death scar will look like...
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Aziza » August 6th, 2015, 1:13 am

Marlo wrote:August 4, 2015

Touching the edge

Touching the edge of your sanity will lead to disaster. Just because you might not remember it, or because you don't care, doesn't make it painless. There are others involved in the choices you make. Other lives that are affected. You must think of the others.

But why?
Because in the end, they're all you have, even when you think you have nothing. You will -always- have them. Don't you know that?

No.

Don't give up. Don't give in. Don't let go. Don't. Don't. Don't.

I've made up my mind.

Then it's too late for you.

*I'm gonna be expanded on this in a separate RP piece sometime later this year <3
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Vamane » August 11th, 2015, 10:26 pm

((vampire astronaut ftw))

Touching the edge of Earth, we're 220 miles above. More like a million. Life is visible outside my window, entire worlds amassed in the dark. The only light comes from massive spiderwebs of electric. Cities spawn out in long-legged sparks of white. I wonder how it once looked in the days of old, days before the pollution of people. To live in the complete black. I crave that darkness, the real and only true home to our kind.

But here, it isn't our kind, but my kind. I am alone, and I am happy. There's only enough space for me when I'm in Space, here among the black expansion of sky and world and the neverending. Here I cause no harm. Here I cause no pain. Here it where I find peace, or once had for now my mind is never silent. Here, I sit and I watch the world and I think to myself, "Where are the rest?" I know others of me live. I know they exist out among these shapes of land - that's all they are to me, shapes. We're one massive world. There are no countries. In the end, soon coming, they die a same death. And I will be here, above, like a god. I won't die. I'll travel. Immortality has its perks; I can make distances none human could ever manage. I can find new worlds, worlds more pure. I think to let them all rot. Leave it behind. Let them boil, blister, and falter into themselves (for I blame no one but them, humanity, for their own misery. And let them vampire burn with the flock).

And yet still I remain. I watch, I tally, and I record. I am dutiful to their exploration, a forever servant to the intellect. There isn't an end for me. I will continue. I will thrive. And when it has ended, I will touch the edge of a new world. After all, the universe is a playground, as long as you're immortal.
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Tori » August 11th, 2015, 10:54 pm

Touching the edge of your lips, I trace the grim line of your mouth with two tentative fingertips, searching for the warmth that was once there. You could be sleeping--restless from a nightmare, perhaps, judging by that look--but you lay unmoving, unperturbed, unsmiling; you lay cold, lifeless.
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Xedanis » August 12th, 2015, 3:36 pm

OOC Note: SORRY ITS HUGE. I GOT CARRIED AWAY.

ALSO THIS MAY RUIN PEOPLES IMAGE OF XEDANIS FOREVER.

#SORRYNOTSORRY

=======================================================================================================

"Touching the edge of madness?"

"Fitting words to describe these last few years. To make you remember."

"I don't forget easily."

The other man's face wrinkled up into a grin of sickened disgust. "Of course not. Vampire filth."

Xedanis's face became a grin of its own, of amused dismissal as he tossed the paperback memoir aside. It landed with a wet thud in the overflowing gutter. "That's no way t'talk to your sire, Sebastien."

"You do not SPEAK that name!" The Hunter retorted. "It is all I have left, and you will not take it from me."

"If it's all you have left," Xedanis said without regret in his voice, "then why do you not still use it?" He took a step forward.

The Hunter's muscles tensed and with a reflex born of a thousand nights chasing the most dangerous prey, his crossbow leaped into his hands and bore down on Xedanis's chest.

"You know damn well why," the hunter responded through gritted teeth. He cocked the Crossbow's trigger with a satisfying click. You will go no further," he threatened, his voice a stone.

Unintimidated, Xedanis continued his advance. "Or you'll what?" His eyes began to glow, an edged halo of icy blue crackling across his face. He made the man's assumed name a provocation. "...Krais?"

The name was still a wound to the man. Even after seven years. He had been the greatest of them, the hunter supreme. Hundreds of vampires and their dark ilk had fallen before his peerless shot. Until...

"Don't tell me you're going to try and keep a man from paying respects to the dead," Xedanis prodded. "That's disrespectful."

Krais' anger boiled beneath his skin. Seven years ago, this.. this... creature had taken his family in a frenzied spite of bloodlust. Murdered his wife with a tear right through her throat. The blood had spattered over Krais' face. Seconds later, the vampire's fist had thundered into his cheek, sending him sprawling. The world had dissolved into a fuzz of semi-conscious fury. The crossbow, his holy crossbow, the very same weapon he held primed now, was maddeningly out of reach.

Then this vampire bastard had stolen his son. His four year old son.

Touching the edge of madness, indeed.

"I'll show you disrespect, you bastard!" Krais roared. His finger squeezed the weapon's trigger. In a blink, the bolt discharged and split the air between them, burying itself in Xedanis's chest.

The vampire looked down at the wound.

It wasn't bleeding.

"Looks like someone doesn't have your back anymore," the pirate began to laugh throatily as he realized the lack of profuse bloodloss was because the bolt wasn't blessed. "I wonder why?"

Krais's response was a bloody snarl as he finally surrendered his precious visage to the bloodwork Xedanis had wrought on him. His fangs glowed in the muddy rusk of streetlights as he dived at his maker and tormentor.

Even in his weakened state, Xedanis easily sidestepped the clumsy attempt. Krais recovered his momentum quickly and threw out a wide backhanded swing with an open palm. Xedanis melted away from the blow and sent a vicious snap into the other man's abdomen, staggering him. Krais's reflexes served him well and he danced aside, retorting with a lightning fast side kick.

Surprised by the speed of his former childe's recovery, Xed was caught flat footed; the quick blow caught him in the cheek but its speed had left little in the way of strength. He spun around and inside Krais' reach to punch hard against the former hunter's ribs. Krais stumbled backwards, winded.

"You still breathe," Xed admonished. "You don't need to do that anymore. It's a weakness."

"It is human," Krais shot back. "And i will do it to keep her memory alive."

He lunged again, this time surefooted in the assault, and locked hands with Xed. The Pirate, so recently out of torpor, was momentarily outmatched by Krais's strength. Before the war, he would have easily taken the whelp and hurled him aside. Today, however, was a different story. Krais pressed his advantage, pushing the older vampire back, back further, and further still.

Xedanis spat an Atlantean curse as he felt his knees tremble. Damn this fucking weakness! He dug his nails into Krais's hands but the hunter simply grinned, the promise of victory rising into his mind and granting him fresh strength.

"After all these years, I'll make you feel what I felt, pirate." He leaned into the stalemate, spittle leaking from his mouth as rage contorted his face. He didn't look human at all, now. How ironic.

"You took everything from me that night. You tormented me for years. Made me want nothing but the release of death, which you denied me." He leaned in closer, breath hot in fury against the pirate's skin. "You made me one of you.

"I'm so glad," Xedanis responded, pushing back against the other man's force, "to have kept you company in your madness."

"I named that book... for you!" Krais spat. Bloody spittle landed on Xedanis's face. It made the vampire growl, but only in pity for the other man. He was not empathic, but he could feel the hatred radiating from his tortured childe. A beast that was once a man, wrought by his hand.

If Krais saw the change in Xedanis's expression, he didn't voice it. "Every time you see that book, I wanted you to see what you had done. I wanted the world to know what I experienced, wanted you to see it in the mind of every human being you mind-raped in your quest for food. I want every one of your meals spoiled by my rage, so that even after I am gone, you will still have my bitterness, my loss, my name burned into your motherfucking mind!"

Krais was lost now, and Xedanis could see it. Even as the other man's desperation burned through his last stocks of strength, as Xedanis began to push back and rise to his feet, as tears began to replace snarls and Krais's fury mutated into fear and remorse, Xedanis found himself experiencing a new emotion.

Regret.

He had utterly destroyed this man. Even in neglect, what Xedanis considered a peaceful silence, a merciful severance... all it had done was unmake him even more. Krais's sanity hung by a thread. And for the first time, Xed saw past his own bitterness and pitied the man.

On his feet now, Xed's face was bereft of venom or spite. Neutrally, he gazed upon his opponent's frothing visage.

"I'm sorry, Sebastien," he said, words edged with his heart's voice more than his own. "For everything."

Krais didn't respond. He was a wailing mess of anguish. His grip on Xedanis's hands weakened until his right hand fell away. The man crumbled to the ground, kneeling, drained. Seven years of torment and loneliness bore down on him so hard, Xedanis could almost see it.

The pirate reached up toward the old streetlamp they'd been fighting beneath. he pulled at the armature containing its humble flame. The device ruptured and pulled away into his grip, pipe et al. Xed ripped through the gas line with bared teeth and flung the ruined lantern away, leaving a leaking pipeline spewing natural gas into the already hazy air.

"I can't give back your family," the pirate said solemnly. "But I can return you to them."

Krais looked up, tears abated, realizing what the pirate was doing.

"Good... enough," he panted, hoarse from his venting.

Xed pulled out his zippo and struck the flint, bringing a small candleflame to life in flickering bursts. He hesitated - HE hesitated - and looked at his former spite-childe again.

"Rest well," he echoed the blessing his kind so often gave to each other as they waited for their return from torpor. Then he turned the pipe on the other man, and held the weak flame before it.

A gout of dragonfire erupted from the pipe and crashed over Krais's prone form. New screams tore from the other man's throat as the licks of molten fury stole over his limbs and chest, burning the other vampire to cinders in seconds.

There would be no rise for Sebastien Krais.

But perhaps, there would finally be peace.
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Amari » August 12th, 2015, 6:37 pm

Thought I'd try to help out with a few new ones, since it's been awhile since any knew were posted! :)

August 10, 2015

He was terrified of small spaces and she knew



August 11, 2015

The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, was silent, secretive


August 12, 2015

She clung on to the piece of driftwood, praying for daylight
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Aziza » August 13th, 2015, 2:12 pm

Marlo wrote:June 26, 2015
Reluctantly, he handed over the


Reluctantly, he handed over the keys to the house. He had not wanted to admitted that he was getting too old to do the work at hand, but his superiors made a point to not let him forget. All except her, that is. The only one whose opinion mattered in this situation is the only one that never went out of her way to make it obvious that he was too far in his years to be doing this work. Whether it was because she was selfish or because she actually liked him being around, it was difficult to tell.
Also 100 Word Challege, yay.
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Vamane » August 21st, 2015, 5:50 pm

I'm using a really old one. sosueme. [and yet another new character spawned...]

Marlo wrote:June 17, 2015

He had the urge to


He had the urge to die.

Yes, that's what it was. To lay down, be dead. A real finality. The closing of the curtain. The title card in large bold print, displaying "THE END." He had died on the stage. He had died on the screen. He had died in life, several and several times again (suicide, accidents, drugs, the whole celebrity works). He had hanged. He had dosed. He had watched on square box screens the reliving of his life, and heard what a "simple" and what a "kind" man he'd been — all a bunch of flowery, flaking, sourly shit. Newspapers ran his glamor shots. Late-night news ran reels of his movies. He'd become an icon. They had his name on the Hollywood walk. He found his way into documentaries, film history books. His signature was prized among collectors. His works would be revered by student actors, filmmakers, and the most dedicated newly admiring.

Maybe his urge wasn't so much to die.

No, he wanted life. He wanted to return to the fame, to the lights, and cameras, and glamor. The women, mysteries in long silk gowns, with curled hair, painted eyes and mouths and glittering laughter over wine. The theatre, row after row full of expectations, crowds leaned forward, entranced with story. Late night Californian drives. Summer heat. Nights at the beach, and days in the studio. Living in the reality of a real demise, the knowledge of death but the ability to elude, infamous of the reaper.

No, he didn't want to die. But he knew he couldn't live like this. Not anymore.
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Marlo » August 30th, 2015, 2:07 pm

^^^ REALLY amazed to see all of these! Thank you so much for sharing! I loved them all! xoxo


August 30, 2015

However, despite having never been able to
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Marlo » September 1st, 2015, 8:07 am

September 1, 2015

He waited for the
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Re: Random First Line

Postby Harvest » September 2nd, 2015, 9:54 am

Marlo wrote:September 1, 2015

He waited for the


He waited for the pain to stop, but it wouldn't. Intense, radiating hunger pangs shot up through his stomach, chest, and into his teeth; large, barbaric rows sharpened and shaped like a shark, or alligator, or other toothy creature. They crowded into his mouth, crookedly placed on top and bottom rows. Often, he'd have accidents — bite his own cheek, tongue, or lip; drawing forward pools of blood onto his usually already bloodied self. Would it ever stop?
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