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cygny asked if I were planning to post the first lines meme to my own journal. I hadn't previously considered it, because I have so pathetically few original first lines for people to choose from. But then again, what the heck. At least it will make your choices easier. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write a drabble with the same first line as one of my stories, and leave it in my comments here. Any and all fandoms welcome.
(Of course I'm not going to hold people to a strict 100 words - if you can't stick to that, like I can't, write to your heart's content.)
(Also, if you decide to take a character name and write an Original Character for it, or veer off in some other fandom because you don't recognize the character name, don't worry about it. I know I avoided first lines with names of characters who I didn't know. There's at least one first line below which is from an original fic, not a fanfic.)
I have often said Jeeves is always right, and he is.
He had found a lump of perfect glass on the slope of the volcano a few days before, and from it Dr. Roy Hinkley had ground two lenses.
When the banging and shouting began all the parents looked at each other.
Winston picked up the remote control and flipped the TV on as he settled into the battered couch.
Deb Lister lay awake, again, listening to the simulated sounds of breathing from the hologram in the bunk below.
Lauren drifted out of her doze as her stop was called.
It was nearly 2am before Sara noticed that the rain had stopped, and she decided she needed a breath of fresh air, before she fell asleep over her archeology book.
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More FJS ^_^
When the banging and shouting began all the parents looked at each other. After some hesitation, a few of them got up and went outside to have a look at what caused all that mayhem. It was not the first time a parents’ meeting had been disturbed by some students of the school, last time one of the parents had actually been quite severely hurt. With more caution than before, they opened the door and peeked outside. Nobody was paying them any attention though, since there was a huge brawl outside. All the students seemed to be involved, apart from two, standing each on either side of the fight.
Chojiro was looking upon the spectacle with a victorious gleam in his eyes. He had successfully started this fight and now nobody was paying him attention anymore. Then he noticed a lonely figure standing on the opposite side, doing his utmost to stop the fighters, but with no luck. Chojiro chuckled and looked closer at the boy. He had seen him before, he looked very familiar, but he clearly hadn’t paid any closer attention to him. He was a nerd, not even worthy of attention. However, this behaviour displayed a certain amount of courage, maybe he should keep an eye on him from now on.
Akinari was weakly pulling on a boy’s arm, trying to stop him from fighting. He was pushed back however and fell against the wall. He stayed there for a moment, before getting back on his feet to renew his attempt. It was at that moment that he caught Chojiro looking at him. He had seen that it was that boy who had started the fight, maybe he could help him to stop it. But then, why would he want to. Better just leave it at that. He took a step back and just watched them, a sad look in his eyes.
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***
It was nearly 2am before Sara noticed that the rain had stopped, and she decided she needed a breath of fresh air, before she fell asleep over her archeology book. She went outside and gazed at the star covered sky. She never would have imagined to one day be in Egypt, studying actual archaeological excavations. Then again, when she was a kid, she wouldn't even have considered becoming an archaeologist. But when her father had died, she had finally had a sense of liberation and could start building a life of her own. Stephen had greatly helped in making her discover her abilities and making her believe in herself.
She slowly climbed the steps to the top of the improvised hill, from where she had a clear overview of the site they were working at. A sense of peace and belonging came over her. She looked up at the sky again and thanked her guardian angel, wherever he might be.
In London, Aziraphale looked up from the book he was reading and smiled gently.
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Quickly, though: I pictured the were-ism as inherited, and he taught her how to master it rather than letting it master her at the full moon. I pictured him as orphaned at a young age by his pack being killed by werewolf hunters, although I realize that's rather melodramatic and I'm not sure I want to keep that. Remaining as a wolf when dying - I'm just as unsure as she is as to what that means.:)
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Were-ism being inherited is quite a new approach (as far as I know anyway) and is an interesting concept. If you plan on continuing it, I'm definitely interested in reading more ^_^
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Hoping you don't mind...
When the banging and shouting began all the parents looked at each other. There was some consternation among the more vocal members. Mrs Higgins - a stout woman who wore dresses "because they were slimming" and who was occupying three of the plastic-y chairs - elbowed Mr. Higgins in the ribs and hissed in a stage-whisper that carried clear across the gym. "Is that supposed happen?"
Mr. Higgins - a small, bespectaled man squashed between the wall and his wife - coughed nervously. It was a Nativity play and he was reasonably certain that such things did include angels...that one should be wearing sunglasses and a thunderous scowl - well...he was a little less sure of that.
He was also reasonably certain that proper angels should be dignified and righteous...and not the sort of -thing- that was currently cooing rapturously over Sister Bernadette's hymn book.
He opened his mouth to say this - and the first angel looked sharply around at him - its sunglasses slipping as it did so. He took one look at seething yellow eyes, squeaked, then said. "Oh, no dear. This is all perfectly normal."
The last word was a squeak as the other 'angel' poked the plastic Cabbage Patch doll and turned to its companion. "You know, my dear, I really don't think he was that....plump."
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It was just a silly little plot-tribble spawned the second I saw your line.
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I use tribble to refer to what should really be bunnies because I get far too many and they breed far too fast. ^_^