Writespiration #92 First and Last lines

writespiration first and last lineThis week, I am giving you a chance to share something from your WIP. I want to know what the first and last line of your current story is.

To join in, post a link in the comments or drop your lines (identified by which is first and which is last) into the comments.

If there’s a significant number of you joining in, I may not be able to comment on every entry this week as I am snowed under trying to meet a deadline. However, I will publish every one in the next Writespiration.

Here’s Mine:

My First Couple of lines (I know, I cheated, I was only meant to use one):

Mother rapped her shoe against the train’s wooden floor. Once, twice, three times. Arms folded, eyes narrowed to slits, I stole a glance at her. I’d pushed too far. But this was my Keepers ceremony and I wanted to feel like myself when I walked in.

My Penultimate Line (the last line gives something away!):

It wasn’t possible. He was dead. I’d killed him with my own hands.


Now to last time and the hug you always wanted.

First in Adele with, The Hug:

A dark place. A phrase that is used often yet whispered by those who have been there. I lived through a dark place and now have the sunshine on my face and the green grass under my feet. My escape started with a simple tale about a selkie which captured the heart of a princess. She wrote back and so started the unfolding of soul loving soul. Eventually, we were to meet, she would leave her tower and travel to a wild land, never visited by often thought of. I would bend the bars of my cage and fly towards her. I saw her before she saw me and my heart burst the last bars of the cage. She came towards me and smiled then we hugged. Through dark, dark times we survived and married with the sun on our faces and the green grass under our feet.


Margo up next with this lovely description

She greets me at the door, jumping, spinning, wanting my full attention, demanding to be touched, acknowledged, held.

She craves to have my arms wrapped around her in a loving embrace, holding her with tenderness and purpose. She dashes off wanting to show me what has held her interest throughout the day. She enthusiastically drags toys, balls, and stuffed animals to the center of the room, enticing me to join her world of play.

Then it’s back to my arms to be reassured that she is loved and cared about.

Yes, a hug is universal;  conveying love, acceptance, comfort, understanding.

Given generously and accepted gratefully.


Allie in Next

I stood at the window and watched as others scurried about, intent on hundreds of other problems. I was only concerned with one. Though I had been in this place for hours, I wouldn’t have recognized a single one of them were we to meet on the street. I wanted to hate them, these faceless individuals. I hated that they existed, that the world needed them,. . . that I needed them. Stuck on the other side of the glass where no sound would pass, I could only imagine what was being said on the other side about me. I wanted to hate them for all they represented, but couldn’t.

An unusual flurry of motion managed to do the impossible, cause me to look away. The door opened and a woman walked out. I held my breath as she approached. “The danger is over. Would you like to meet your baby now?”


Ritu now, with this lovely poem

A cuddle, a hug, a squeeze

There’s nothing more likely to please.

It’s just like a smile, it costs nothing to you

But a well-timed hug , there’s a lot it can do

The shoulder squeeze,  a solidarity stance

A hug with a shrug, well they do it in France!

The cuddles with children they warm the heart

Snuggles with your Dearest, never to part

But I have to say, the best hug I’ve had

Is the deep embrace I get from my Dad.


Judy up now with another awesome poem

A hug from somebody special

Is one to treasure indeed

It can make you feel warm and rosy

And is sometimes just what you need

I have been pretty lucky

To have had more than my share

Despite not being ‘touchy feely’

I do like to show that I care!

The Blogger’s Bash was a hug-fest

It was so lovely to hug all my friends

People that I had become fond of

I finally met that weekend

Hugs with people I worked with

When I called in to see them one day

All that warmth and affection

Brought lots of sunshine my way.

Sometimes when I have a day off

And am having a crafty lie in

My daughter will come and give me a cuddle

The perfect way for the day to begin!

After a hard day at work when I am tired

And am feeling a bit down in the dumps

A hug can make me feel better

Which I get from dear Mr Grump!

I can’t choose which hugs are better

Either from friends or family

All I know that I love them

And each one is special to me!


Jane Dougherty in now with a beautiful but sad poem

Empty arms

There have been so many times,

Your arms around me, held so tight,

When I have thought heaven was mine,

In an embrace that fills the night.

Each time that tenderness, so sweet,

I just reach out and you are there,

Our bodies fit, match and complete,

Is almost more than I can bear.

But the deepest longing, never sated,

Beneath the bliss, a constant pain,

Is for those gone far beyond my loving,

All those I’ll never hold again.


Phylor, new to writespiration, is in next with this lovely poem

in your puppy-dog-eye days,

you would hug me warmly,

my head in the crook of your collar bone

holding me so tight, I could feel your

desire stir, hug becoming embrace

both yielding to deep kisses

our luxuria accelerants

to a bonfire

in the now, in our twilights

no embracing with emphasis

ghost memory of feeling

aching to be crushed

suffocated in your shoulder

as when you held me

bonfire in embers

to say forever

you will have my arms


Another newbie to writespiration this week with Shadeau’s first entry

Long as ocean deep

Between us; far as here

To Heaven; two lifetimes

Full of years—

Yours gone, mine lingers…

Please remember, hear

Me call your name when I arrive.

Be handsome still,

Waiting too; let strong arms wide

Scoop me up, receive me finally—

Hold me hard against heart

I’ve held within my own.

Play this scene the way

I’ve dreamed—awake,

And ‘mid dear-tortured sleep…

As stars twinkled on,

Winked out at dawn—

Wishing-lights sky loans.

Prove my imagination true—

Love huge, heroic keeps

Me safe, sane most days

While I bide skeins of time,

Covering pages—thoughts

Linked in ink,

A million poetry lines…

Musing knitted memories, fantasies

Crafted in hope chest niche of mind.

Solitary-satisfied—

Ever-entranced,

No matter the distance,

With only one face…

My embrace is

Yet reserved for you.


Marje in next with an excerpt form her WIP

Cruel Time Had Him Prisoner

Still feeling dizzy a wave of nausea hit me hard. The room spun around like I was on an enforced merry-go-round. I closed my eyes willing the strange spinning to stop. As my eyes opened, a narrow tunnel of faded kaleidoscopic images came to me in a giddy whirl.

First, I saw my dad playing his guitar, with my mum laughing by his side. Then, the day my dad disappeared, followed by the day he returned.

Buried memories….

All the moments I’d ever treasured, the mother and father I could laugh with, could hug.

Dad’s homecoming should have been a celebration, but it wasn’t. I’d just turned fifteen. It had been two long years wait, for this – what a joke. A life lived within the clutches of a curse. A tear fell from my eye, and then another and another as I recalled the events of the past. Soon they were spilling, splashing on the canvas – watercolour tears of sadness.

I looked at my painting. For a second, I saw dad’s face on my canvas. His sad expression scratched a raw scar on my vision. Cruel time had him prisoner.   His watery old eyes stared back, begging me to help him.


Jade up next with a tale that leaves you wanting more

The dumpster reeked of rotten food, but he could barely register it above the stench of his own blood. At first, the pain blinded him. It was all he could do to keep his protruding hind leg bones from jutting out further. Now, he barely felt anything as he waited to die.

Fitting, really. He was born on the streets, and here he was, tossed unceremoniously back like a broken-what, exactly? He was as valuable as trash.

What hurt more than his body was the belief that he was finally going home with one of those good humans he had heard so much about, only to be used as a bait dog when he got there.

Good humans. He spat out some drool mingled with dried blood. There were no such thing.

A gasp caught his ears but everything was already turning black. The last things he remembered were hands, soft ones that didn’t hurt, clasped around him, picking him up gently like he was…important, valuable.

Ah…this must be what the humans call a hug.


Next up something from Colin Guest, A.K.A Tigerman which came in via email:

In this world we live in, life is not always good. However, it’s the only one we will ever have so we have to make the most of it. Sometimes you may feel your life has been burnt on the edges, but don’t despair, it is only part and not all of it. I always try to be positive in life, as positive thoughts lead to positive results. This I think gives me more chance of success in life than if I were negative. One should realise that negative thoughts lead to negative results, which will never help in your trying to obtain a better life than you presently have. They say look before you leap, but in contrast, they always say he who hesitates is lost. It’s a case of heads you win tails I lose. Nevertheless, a decision is better than no decision. Sometimes you just have to get off the fence and get on and do something to help you obtain a better life than you do at present. Unless you do, you will continue to flounder along in life and miss out on something that could completely change your life around.


Next up the lovely Sarah Brentyn, with this beautiful tale

He stepped through the front door, taking care to bang his sneakers on the tiles to be heard above the TV. He knew the police had phoned his dad about the mugging.

It’s not like he expected special treatment or anything, he knew better than that, but he hoped anyway.

Maybe one of those quick, awkward hugs people give like they’re touching a snake. One of those would be nice.

He tensed as his father’s boots sounded in the hallway, cringed as they got closer. He waited.

His father stopped a few feet away, staring, eyes taking in the ripped clothing and black eye. His arms reached out, touching the torn, blood-stained coat. “No wonder they didn’t take this thing,” he laughed. “Hope you have enough money to pay for a new jacket,” he walked back to the couch.


Geoff took the biscuit for me this week, with a thought piece based on the politicking of the UK over the recent weeks. GENIUS if you ask me. But don’t, for fucksake tell him! His head is big enough!

Hug let out a sigh. It had been a tiring day, gripping for so long every part of its being felt tense and knotted. And now it had a meeting of the Greetings’ Representatives. God, how it hated politics.

On the one side, there was the Handshake contingent, still living in a world of stiff lipped men and simpering women. It longed for some mystical time when only hands touched hands, kisses were reserved for bedtime and foreigners and hugs belonged to bears. Of course the internal battles between the traditional finger wrap ‘n’ grip and the more fashionable variants of knuckle knocks, high fives and rap-esque choreography had simmered for years but in the light of the current threats in the Greetings’ Market even they had come together in a show of hand-holding unity.

On the other there was the Kissers, those libertine sharers of bodily fluids, lip and cheek brushers and mouth daubers. They had always avoided the factional infighting of the Handshakers but, in truth that was because they knew when to apply which kiss. Recently however Politicians kissed each other and strangers leapt in for a triple mwah without so much as a by your leave; it felt like the old order was breaking down.

And in the middle sat the comfortable hug. Close enough to be intimate and yet nothing so much as a moist palm to disturb anyone’s sensitivities. The variables had always been subtle from the light holding of the arms to the full round grip. Hug had tried to keep the peace, even going into collation with the handshake, creating the popular  half hug, half hand grip as a way to minimize the growing influence of the kiss; but the more esoteric wing of Handshakers felt excluded and in reality everyone knew it was about the increasing influence of the hug rather than a restoration of the primacy of the handshake.

Today both extremes were calling for a referendum. The Handshakers wanted traditional English values of reserve and distance to be restored while the Kissers were after more mixing, an ever closer union. Hug would be expected to come down on one side or the other but really it wanted everyone to live together in peace. After all if they pulled each other apart, the only greeting that would benefit was the small minded, out of touch Wave and everyone knew where that would lead. Hug rolled its round shoulders. Maybe it should offer free hugs?

68 comments

    1. Blushes. Tale end of this year, I am going to go on a reading binge so that I can read everyones books or at least start making an indent in them! Yours is already on my kindle ready and raring to go!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. That’s the downside of kindle, you can’t ‘see’ how fat the books are lol. When I want to read an epic novel (thinking of Sarah J Maas!) I have to get the paperback so I know how far I’ve read and what’s left (yes, I’m oddly strange!) 😉

        Liked by 1 person

      2. haha I am almost exclusively kindle/phone based for fiction – but I am slowly having to ‘buy’ copies because I like to see what I’ve read on my shelf. but for non fic I am exactly the same, can’t read it on kindle I have to write on it and make notes!

        Liked by 1 person

  1. I really enjoyed the entries this week. Jane’s poem and Jade’s story were both so moving. I loved Geoff’s hug story, he always writes so well!!!
    Thanks for the prompt this week Sacha, your WIP ends on rather a bang! I am looking forward to reading that when it is published! 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Too late to join?

    From the most recent poem I posted:

    First stanza:
    on the radio
    in the car when I was driving from work
    the weatherman was chatting
    to Ms Drive Time: …

    last stanza:

    some days
    he said
    our family can go all day
    with just one flush
    then gave
    a forecast
    for tomorrow

    fine again

    The link is:

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Lots of good writing as usual.
    Love your first and last (penultimate) lines. I’m so far from the end of my WIP I don’t have the faintest idea of the last lines – or even the last chapter come to that.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Hi Sacha!!! 🙂 Love all the entries for Hug – so many different interpretations of the theme. Okay, here are my first and last lines for Silver and Black (however, as it’s a WIP, they might change):

    First line: Apparently, there was a time when humans thought vampires to be dead creatures, reanimated corpses with a thirst for blood.

    Last line: Then I speak, the words coming out in a rush of breath. ‘I am Raven.’

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Excellent stories. Your writespiration is a hit!
    First line: The ironwood pier below Mur-Vallis pointed like a sooty finger over the Blackwater’s swirling luminescence.
    Last line: She understood the tantalizing impulse to wield her new power and so she would.
    Have a great day, my friend.

    Liked by 3 people

  6. First: Landen Powell coughed as she entered James Franks’ office.
    Last: She glanced back at Mervin. “You two are the first to know.”
    Hey, it’s a work in progress. Who knows where it’ll go?
    Thanks for the flattery. I’ve put it in a jar so I can let it go to my head when I next see you.

    Liked by 3 people

  7. Your opening line is a real cracker, and strangely enough, the penultimate line actually sounds like not quite the last line.
    My many WIP aren’t finished, so I don’t actually have a…um…last line. Here’s the first and last line from an unpublished but near as dammit finished thing. Judging from these lines (I cheated too), you’d think I was obsessed by limbs.

    He stands behind me, enfolding me in his arms. It has become a habit with him, as if I would float away if he didn’t hang on tightly.

    In his arms I am carried, and in his arms I leave the world of pain and hurt and suffering behind a veil of sapphires and rubies.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Haha, well I think thats a good thing then… if its not the last line and doesn’t sound like the last line either. I guess last lines have a kind of style. *scratches head – thinks about last line*

      haha there is a little arm obsession in there! lol, they are awesome 😀 I adore the first line, by the way 😀

      Like

      1. Good! Glad it starts off the right way 🙂 Last lines have to have style, like that last flourish on a line of sewing. Not that I do much of that, but the last stitch is the only one worth a bit of effort as far as I’m concerned.

        Liked by 1 person

  8. Here’s the first and last line of my next book that I’m still revising. At the pace I’m revising and writing, the book probably won’t be out until 2017.

    First line: The main character thinks, “I regret my part in one of the greatest tragic love stories in human history.”

    Last line at the end of Chapter 27 is currently: “I can’t live with the mental anguish that comes from losing someone you love.”

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Oh, this is FUN! Late to the party but here’s mine from the revision in progress.

    Opening:

    Pre-dawn dark blanketed dormant houses on cemetery-quiet Organ Road. Sean Bergin watched digital numbers cycle on a track watch as a distraction from a kicking-and-screaming nicotine fit. It had been 30 minutes since the drug courier drove into the 200-unit-warehouse complex.

    Closing:

    “If you pull that trigger, you might as well put the gun in your own mouth next,” Toughie said with a holding-all-the-cards grin. “My friends will hunt you all down. Then they’ll go after Anwell’s kid, Leti’s mom and Ronnie’s daughter, and then your sisters.”

    Sean looked at Ramiro and Mike–dead bodies punctuating Toughie Mendelsohn’s threat. He hammered back on the Bulldog, “Yeah but you’ll be just as dead.”

    “Wait, wait, wait,” Toughie said, hands up. “There’s another option, here.”

    Leti stayed Sean with a raised hand. “And that is?”

    “Money never sleeps and I need new talent. How would y’all like a job?”

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Awesome thanks for joining in – I’ll shorten these a bit as its only suppose to be the first and last line! Interesting start though, definitely a hook right there 😀

      Like

  10. Ok, so can I cheat a little too…? the first line is a song line so I included the second line too!

    “What’s it gonna be ‘cause I can’t pretend. Don’t you wanna be more than friends?”
    Lara had had enough of this. She never thought she would be able to be strong enough to actually say it to him, but there it was.
    ~~~
    This really wasn’t panning out how she had planned!

    It is truly a WIP at the moment, and not finished at all!

    Liked by 1 person

  11. As cheating seems to be the way to go, and as I’ve got two WIPs at present, I’ll put both in:

    Carrion

    First line: His master’s home was large and comfortable, but the messenger knew his place: outside, huddled in the cold night air.
    Last line: And Salin went.

    Birth Rights

    First line: Frank Gilman put his coffee down and stood up.
    Last line: He suddenly realised he was grinning. “I’ll be waiting.”

    Liked by 1 person

      1. It’s from the prologue, and if you liked that, my guess is that you’ll love the last paragraph. It’s on Wattpad, if you’re interested, but don’t worry about getting hooked in – there’s nothing else there at the moment.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Doesn’t look like you can get to it without signing in. I can email you a word doc, or a file that you should be able to upload as an ebook (I think – it’s been a while since I did that)

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Sorry, Sacha, I’ve not been very clear. The paragraph only makes sense and has any impact if you’ve read the whole prologue. It’s only about 1300 words (about the length of one of your blog posts), but as I now realise I’ve led you up the garden path, I don’t mind if you don’t want to see it.

        Liked by 1 person

  12. Joining in. Sorry for being late to this party! Love your blog by the way.

    First line:
    Curls of smoke dissipated on the frigid air before furious flickers could be spotted in her eyes.

    Last line:
    And in another life, everything would continue to be different.

    Liked by 1 person

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