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Here you go:
Hello. I haven’t been posting as prolifically and pointlessly as usual. Party, this is because I have been submitting poems and stories to publications and contests, many of which demand that the work has never been published anywhere, even in an obscure personal blog with a devoted readership of my mom.
I feel bad for my imaginary readers. That is why I am treating you to a blog post in progress! That’s right, I have a partially completed blog post which is neither a story nor a poem, and therefore nobody else wants it. So here it is….
My upcoming Alphabet Post!!!
An apple always appreciates anything advertised as “Astronomical!”
Bees basically break beauty basics because bees behave badly.
Can cream cheese cause cancer?
Deep Inside My Head
A buzzing. A whooshing pressure.
My body is here but where am I?
Deep inside my head
The empty seat in front of me comes back into focus
I dreamt a lacquered coffin
Now I see one
Editor’s note: This is probably a work of fiction. In any case, none of us here at Daisybrain condone violence or look down upon people for their beliefs. We thought it import to publish this story because we found it in a capsule and it appears to be a work of historical fiction written in the future.
Ever since the Government mandated that all citizens carry guns, Eric enthusiastically complied. For as long as he could remember, at least the last 70 years, he had been a disciple of nonviolence. He had marched in countless peace demonstrations, protesting each generation’s pointless war, and was an active member of the Resistance. But, when the Lower House of Trump passed the mandatory carry law, something finally snapped.
You want to start a story with an enticing first line. Here are some first lines for your essays, short stories and novels guaranteed to peek reader interest. Or at least to peek their fear. Feel free to use them as writing prompts. If you get published, please pay me money. Any amount. Enough for a bar of chocolate.
Fifteen Future Famous First Phrases:
He’d been getting underground CRISPR treatments for years. Maybe his new friends didn’t suspect, but I knew Elray back in the 90s, when I was in high school and he was pushing 40. He should have been in his late 70s, but with a full head of jet black hair and athletic build, he looked younger than when I hung out with him. Plus he had to be eight inches taller. He was all brilliant white smiles as he walked up to me in his signature black tuxedo, through the crowd of retro-punks and retro-mods.