Come and post your opening lines...

My favorite: "MC opened his/her eyes." Sometimes I added a vast white blank room.

 

Sounds fun. Before I got really, really, really sick I wrote the first draft of a werewolf in antarctica story. Maybe I'll go back to it someday.

Antarctica, June 21st, 1983.

A month from now the region will reach its lowest temperature in recorded history: eighty nine Celsius in the negative; a novelty a month too late for there to be anyone left in the frozen bowl to record it. Beneath the Antarctic Ice the shadows of men grow tall and thin. It is here the Miskatonic Institute cowers beneath ice and steel, cocooned around the nadir of Earth itself. It stays standing, while everyone within it falls.

Morella Read was there to watch it fall. With hope, she would remain long enough to see it burn.It looked like snow, fluttering down from the high ceiling of darkness above. But she knew it wasn’t; so digested by the metal beast of the institute, only ash fell from these ceilings. Ash and blood. A limp brought her down the snowing corridor, the flakes coming to rest upon an encounter that preceded her. Water trickled through gaps in the metal grating at her feet, around her, blackened corpses with mouths stretched wide and fingers curled into arthritic claws. She didn’t care; the capacity drifted out of her mind days ago

 

I only have one story started (and it's been sitting for a while) but I think I started it OK.

Dawn wasn't quite sure what to do with herself at this point. The moment she informed her father she had a full-ride scholarship to Ricard Academy, he went ballistic. Her father was a two-star general in the Pentagon and had always planned to find some nice officer to set her up with because he didn't like the idea of his daughter out in the world alone. One of the traits that made Major General Robert H. Benson so skilled with Army politics was the fact that he was a micromanaging control freak. He had no intention of letting her off lightly. Since her mother passed when she was young, Dawn and her father had always butted heads. At the end of the fight, he was ballistic with rage and she was homeless and disowned.

 

He didnt like the idea of his daughter being out on her own so he kicked her out on her own?

 

He didn't get what he wanted so he disowned her. He's an asshole

 

The scene seems a bit confusing to me.

Does she see a bird? I could imagine that you mean the sound of birds, so I would use "chirp" instead. Though as it seems that this is meant to be a "cursed" place, I would rather recommend making it more mystic and rather mention that she realizes that she hasn't heard a bird for several minutes.

Instead of walking, you could use other verbs that sound slower and less like it's a casual stroll.

It seems that the whispers in her head are caused by the amulet. If it is possessed by some entity who wants her to take the amulet, you could change the way of the whispers in her head. When she heads towards the shack, the whispers could be alluring. If she tries to get away, the whispers could sound agitated or angry.

The closeness could also be indicated by the colors of the wood, the brightness/darkness of the surroundings, or the presence/absence of life.

The shack could be covered by thick ivy. Some kind of "front entry porch" could indicate where the door should be and when she steps on it, there could be a rotten creaking. Pulling the door open could create a creepy sound as well.

For the part where the whispers appear to be a woman's voice, you could use word fragments instead of just telling it. I could imagine "yes" or "gether/gather" from "together" (You could just think of what the voice might say and then scrap everything that would reveal too much.


They're just suggestions given the present material and I don't know if any of it makes sense in the overall context of your story.

 

Might sound odd as suggested before. But you need two to fight, and strong emotions can lead to rash words.

Personally, I don't like the kind of beginning where the character's whole life is squeezed into a paragraph or two. (Or ten pages)
I could imagine the story starting when Ms. Ricard talks to her or when Dawn is waiting at the academy.
In the latter case, she could read the name of the school and remember excerpts of the fight with her daddy and what they did to each other. (If the relationship to her father actually matters.)

If it's all about "I'm homeless and disowned," I could also imagine her watching out of a car window while she hitchhikes to the academy.
She could be sad and some talk with the driver could reveal a little of what happened before.
The reader might feel with her instead of reading a report of what happened.

 

I echo gene.sis on this. I feel each sentence could spawn a small paragraph of snapshots into Dawn's recent past. What I instinctively imagine is she's going somewhere or allowing herself to drift to somewhere, and along the way small events, small conversations and exchanges, looks at other people, looks at the environment all continually remind her of the path that led her here - wherever here is. And that I would love to read.

 

"arj ortvaavat pbasvezrq"

 

I'm not sure if anyone gets that this is actually the beginning of your story.
And I'd say it's certainly not enough to give an opinion on it.

 

This is from the very first story I ever posted on CHYOA. It makes me laugh.

It's hot as shit and my dick's hard. It aint right but I can't help it. Even though she's asleep I try not to stare. Mom's laid out on the couch in a loose red, sleeveless shirt. Well it's mostly loose. It's a bit tight around the chest. And damp from sweat. I see her nipples poking through the dark fabric. Her body is almost shiny with sweat. God. I'm sweating too.

 

That's so apt and funny it's brilliant. Buckle up, this story is getting there *fast* is the vibe and I love it lol.

None of my stories have particularly clever, interesting or well written beginnings honestly. I'm usually too focused on getting the plot lined up to worry about the 'hook' of the introduction and it's a shortcoming. Something to think about more for the next story, at least.

But here is a typical one: