On the bright side, I did win one thing. Before NaNo started, our local group had a competition. They gave contestants ten random first lines. You pick one, then write a first page using that line. I thought it would be fun. Because I mostly write YA fantasy, it's always a nice break to write something else. The line I chose was-
It was common knowledge around town that Bill drank like a fish, the kind of fish that consumes large quantities of cheap scotch on a daily basis.
There weren't a lot of contestants, but, hey, a win is a win, right? And, I have a good start on my new book. Here's to good attempts and a big, huge CONGRATS to all those who did win!!
It was common knowledge around town that Bill drank like a fish, the kind of fish that consumes large quantities of cheap scotch on a daily basis. Today, the fish was suffocating.
Bill licked his parched lips, desperate for the taste of scotch. Hell, any alcohol would do. There was no way she’d left any after their fight last night. Lindy always dumped it out when she got mad. When the screaming had gotten the attention of the neighbors, Bill left. He drove until his eyelids drooped. Then, he’d slept it off in his car.
He looked at the house. Broken down steps, a porch that had more waves than a pacific morning, and a screen door without a screen. Home sweet home. Was she awake? He didn’t see any sign of it. Maybe she was still in bed and he could sneak in to wake her. Lindy always forgave him after a good night’s sleep. Or better yet, maybe she was in the shower.
That thought got him moving. Bounding to the house, he ran his fingers through his hair. He avoided the boards that would give him away and pulled the screenless door aside. The front door was ajar and he gave it a gentle shove.
No sound. Not in the shower. Dang. No worry, surprising her in bed would be just as fun. Bill pulled his boots off one at a time, setting them silently on the living room floor. He made his way down the hall, unbuttoning his plaid shirt as he went. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
“Lindy,” he whispered as he put his hand on the bedroom door. It creaked as he pushed it open. “Lind…”
Clothes were strewn around the room, the bedcovers twisted in knots. The dresser drawers hung precariously with panties and t-shirts draped over their fronts. Bill’s eyes took in the chaos, but his mind couldn’t grasp it. Until he saw the blood.
A large pool of crimson creeped out from under the far corner of the bed. It soaked the bedskirt and puddled around a black, high-heeled shoe.
His feet moved of their own accord. Heaven knew he didn’t want to see. Something forced him forward until his toes were mere centimeters from the bloody mess.
Her hand, tan and manicured, lay open. Waiting for him to take it like she always did. Lindy still wore the jean shorts and yellow tank top she had on when he left last night. The way she lay there, half on her side, he could have thought she was sleeping. Except her chest didn’t rise and fall.
The bed hid her face. Bill didn’t need to see it. Didn’t want to. His heart seemed to shrink in his chest.
The sound of sirens broke the silence and he heard the screech of tires. His eyes darted from his wife’s lifeless form to the door. What to do?
He needed a drink.