What’s your strongest opening to a story?

[orangecurious]

I tend to zone out on the train journey home, disappear into my own world for the thirty-minute trip and avoid everyone else. I was on my way to doing this when I looked up to see the woman opposite me. She was older, I guessed around forty-five or so, but attractive and very sweet looking, her face seemed to smile even though she wasn't. She looked like the type of woman who'd get left behind, considered too nice and dumped in favour of someone sexier. This appealed to me though. I looked down to her hands, fingers entwined and resting on her legs. There was no ring to be seen. I glanced up and her eyes caught mine and glistened slightly, enough to notice, not overtly so to cause any real meaning. Her face carried on looking happy.

Which was the very first thing I wrote here, Suburban Sweetheart

 

[EmilyMiller]

Harlow climbed the sandstone ledge and used her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. She surveyed a vast expanse of barely vegetated rock and sand, bound only by distant blue mountains shimmering on the horizon. It wasn't noon yet, but already the heat had spawned dust devils that danced on the ground and towered into the blue sky.

I stopped the rock drill and took my hat off to wipe away the sweat hanging on my eyebrows and on the tip of my nose, and I watched her. Dana Harlow was long and tan; she was a perfect, sinewy desert rat with sun-bleached hair that just fit into short pony tail.

Sense of place and person

 

[intim8]

From Nudio's Pizza

How did I end up standing out here in the middle of a four lane road without a stitch of clothing, blue and red light flashing across my chest and junk in the middle of Drake Avenue?

It's a long story, but basically, it's all because Barney Fife hates me, hates my job, hates my boss, and hates everybody I work with.

That's not his real name of course. That would be too good a gift from the gods of pizza delivery. It's just that 'Barney Fife' fits him a lot better than 'Officer Rodney Smithee'.

 

[EmilyMiller]

Let me start out by sayin' that I did not smother Roy Henderson with a pillow.

Had me thinking To Kill A Mocking Bird - a good thing

 

[EmilyMiller]

Sorry if I’ve missed anyone

 

[intim8]

Life can sometimes be surreal. That was the thought that flitted across my mind as I stood beneath a giant, plastic pelican, catty-corner from The Blue Grotto, which was far less alluring than its name might suggest. Beneath my bare feet, a languorous, chlorinated flow was hemmed by faux rocks; its surface clogged by transparent toroids...

That was a good story, and a good opening. I think I commented "you had me at 'toroids'"

 

[MrPixel]

I still like the opening to Barstow. It could have had more about the sweltering heat in the initial sentences, but I feel it set the scene fairly well:

=====

"I dunno, Jax."

"'Dunno', what, Em?"

Jackson and Emily Foster have stationed themselves at the entrance ramp to eastbound I-40 from Main Street along with their spotted puppy, Solomon, hoping to thumb a ride to get them closer to Albuquerque and her parents' home. They had just sold their dilapidated heap of a '69 Nova to a buy-here-pay-here used car lot for $50. It ran, sort of, but after overheating up the hill in Cajon Pass, there was no way what was left of it was going to make it up the grade the other side of Kingman, and that was if it made it across the desert to Needles. Last and best opportunity to at least get a little pocket cash for it was Barstow.

The cigar-chomping lot attendant mumbled something about "not running a charity" when he begrudgingly handed them two 20s and a 10 for a hooptie that would fetch at least $200 at a breaker yard since it was "a classic". The new-ish battery alone was worth fifty bucks.

The car was all they had they were willing to sell for hard cash. The disgusting troll at the car lot offered another $50 if he could watch them screw, at which point they beat feet.

 

[EmilyMiller]

That was a good story, and a good opening. I think I commented "you had me at 'toroids'"

Yeah, nerds of a feather

 

[EmilyMiller]

I still like the opening to Barstow. It could have had more about the sweltering heat in the initial sentences, but I feel it set the scene fairly well:

=====

"I dunno, Jax."

"'Dunno', what, Em?"

Jackson and Emily Foster have stationed themselves at the entrance ramp to eastbound I-40 from Main Street along with their spotted puppy, Solomon, hoping to thumb a ride to get them closer to Albuquerque and her parents' home. They had just sold their dilapidated heap of a '69 Nova to a buy-here-pay-here used car lot for $50. It ran, sort of, but after overheating up the hill in Cajon Pass, there was no way what was left of it was going to make it up the grade the other side of Kingman, and that was if it made it across the desert to Needles. Last and best opportunity to at least get a little pocket cash for it was Barstow.

The cigar-chomping lot attendant mumbled something about "not running a charity" when he begrudgingly handed them two 20s and a 10 for a hooptie that would fetch at least $200 at a breaker yard since it was "a classic". The new-ish battery alone was worth fifty bucks.

The car was all they had they were willing to sell for hard cash. The disgusting troll at the car lot offered another $50 if he could watch them screw, at which point they beat feet.

Make sure they take the right turn at Albuquerque

 

[MrPixel]

Make sure they take the right turn at Albuquerque

Didn't have to. That's where this initial chapter concluded.

 

[intim8]

My other best opening is from my highest rated story:

"The door to the library burst open, and in walked a naked, dripping woman"

 

[tenyari]

I tend to take a bit of time to build up in my intros.

From my First Contact story. The part I've just put in italics was actually written after I'd finished the story, slowing down the intro even more because being too wordy is kind of my thing...

Deja que yo te busque y si te encuentro
Y si te encuentro vuelve otra vez

The young historian leaned back into the wicker chair on the balcony of a quaint but large home in the small tropical coastal town as naked people strolled by in the street below and a shuttle descended in the distance. From the look of him I knew he was still a student. I was his thesis. He was just a little older than my granddaughter, who's nude photo he had been admiring before we'd sat down. He in his wicker chair and me on my granite one. She was away at university, or I would have introduced them.

He waved a strand of blue hair out of his eyes as he glanced over to me, a nude old woman relaxing in a granite chair, though I still looked not a day over twenty, and asked; "Tell me your story. We've collected so many official accounts, but I was surprised to find that in all the archives and records, no one has ever taken the story of First Contact from you, despite your role in everything."

And so I began to recount the tale, with a little AI help where my memory was rough; but we do as we can.

I remember the day my parents went away. We had a funeral for them out in the park, and then Teacher walked me home and put me to bed. It was a strange day, none of my friends were there. Just Teacher.

The next time I woke up, I was a year older, and I came to realize that my parents had actually passed away millions of years ago, long before I had been born. It was time for me to begin learning the truth, and my purpose.

Slowly I learned history, math, biology, poetry, and so many other subjects. I discovered I loved to paint and watching romantic movies that in time I learned had been made eons ago before the world had died.

When I was old enough, I was told we were the last of humanity, floating through space on a giant colony ship towards a star people believed might have a planet that could support life. A fleet of seed ships had been sent in different directions, all there had been time for. The odds were most of them would find nothing but lifeless solar systems, but if even one made it to a new world, humanity would endure.

Was going to post the intro to the as yet unpublished part three but it needs some heavy editing and I still don't know when I'll be able to complete that story.

 

[intim8]

I tend to take a bit of time to build up in my intros.

From my First Contact story.

Holy hell. As I was reading this, I'm thinking, OK, it's not that bad of an opening. But by the time I got through it, I'm dying to read this story. Like, I'm rearranging my schedule to make time for it, I'm paying cash money at the bookstore...

 

[AchtungNight]

My favorite opening on a Lit story is from Ruleskirter - (https://classic.literotica.com/s/ruleskirter). A woman accustomed to cruising clubs and well-trained in martial arts is dragged into an alley by a bad guy she can't beat alone. A hero comes to her rescue and they end up in a relationship that will last a lifetime with some interruptions. Relaxing with Lisa (https://www.literotica.com/s/relaxing-with-lisa) is good too. A man comes home from a boring day and gets with his wife, fun everyday erotic stuff. Same couple as in Ruleskirter, just older.

 

[joy_of_cooking]

My first story still has IMO my best opening:

Their sex life was fine.

 

[VallesMarineris]

Am I late to the party? Fine, I'll be fashionably late. Here's the beginning of one of my first stories, https://literotica.com/s/secret-superpower-03-oral-contract:

I was just finishing a meeting with a client when my superpower twitched. They'd invited me to join them for lunch and I was about to accept-- mostly because one of the lawyers was an exquisite Black woman with the most delicious Caribbean accent-- but that twitch was insistent.

Do I have a secret superpower that gets me into women's panties (and other intimate venues) at unexpected times? I still can't decide. But I listened to it this time and, well...

I didn't know what was going to happen. I stayed alert in the elevator but no one joined on the way down except an elderly couple complaining about the prices at the street level café. The building was mixed use, offices above and commercial below, with an underground garage. The couple got out at the garage level ahead of me so I didn't see the woman until I'd almost reached my car. She was attractive in a suburban sort of way. Modest blouse, loose pants, practical shoes. The twitch poked me again, down there. The look on her face, however, showed anything but erotic thoughts.

And as a teaser, here's the beginning of a near-future sci-fi mind control story, still a WIP, which I plan to submit for the Geek Pride challenge:

I was in the airport, franticly looking through my purse for my boarding pass. I knew it was in there, I knew I had put it in there, but I searched and I searched and it wasn’t there. The last few passengers were filing onto the plane. I was going a little crazy. And I was also thinking, Don’t they know who I am? Why the fuck do I need a fucking boarding pass? But I couldn’t remember. I just stared into my bag.

Out of nowhere a hand reached in, a man’s hand, and pulled out the slip of paper. He held it up for me. I was dumbfounded. “What the fuck?”

He motioned the paper to me. I grabbed it, went through ticketing, and took my seat on the plane, 1A. It was only then that I realized that I hadn’t checked, and that I didn’t know where this plane was going. I couldn’t remember why I had got on the plane. I took out the boarding pass and was about the read the destination when the man sat down next to me and took it out of my hand.

“You don’t want this,” he said. He put it in his pocket.

“Who the fuck are you?” I scanned around the plane. It looked full. “What’s going on?”

“You didn’t want to know.”

“Know what?”

“Anything,” he answered. “Don’t forget your seat belt.”

 

[joy_of_cooking]

@VallesMarineris I'd read your next paragraph.

 

[ElectricBlue]

A cafe? How surprising. But elegantly minimalist.

Emily

I like that. Thank you .

 

[StillStunned]

I picture an Eastern European country, dark and damp. The government buildings would be Brutalist architecture, and the residential areas would be primarily rundown but previously beautiful structures.

Dark, damp and Eastern European, yes (well, I play with how dark it is, depending on the narrator's mood). But the story is set in 1868, so nearly a century before brutalism.

 

[Rustyoznail]

Thud...

I looked up, bleary-eyed. I was on the floor. Why was I on the floor?
===
From an early, since deleted series.

 

[ElectricBlue]

Here's another favourite of mine:

The spider in the top hat got out of the long black car, tapped the silver head of his cane on the vehicle's long black roof to signify to the driver, begone: return in the morning, be discrete. The spider stepped across the sidewalk to the hotel entrance with a four-footed side shoe shuffle, elegant black and white spats on his feet, thin red stripes down the side of each trouser leg. A dapper fellow, he wore a small red rose in his boutonnière, delicately scented. Its petals curved inwards and outwards, just like a lady he knew, her curlicued and scented centre like an elegant crystal flute laced through with incarnadine red.

The flower was the agreed upon signal - she would wear a scarlet rose with its thorns plucked out, worn high in a twist in her silken black hair. They'd never met - this was a new rendezvous, perfect strangers. He glanced at his watch, and flicked back four perfect cuffs. Nearly time: time for an adventure, time for an indulgence or two. It was just past three, and the spider would be eating by four.

The Fantastic Hotel

I tend to be unpredictable. This one's in an up-market hotel, not my usual café.

 

[Bazzle]

This is my latest WIP

"His cock was hard and big. I'm almost ashamed to say it's slightly bigger than my husbands. It looked good with my fingers firmly wrapped around it. Stroking up and down as quickly as I could. All the time I kept my eyes on him as I slowly and purposefully dragged on my cigarette. The large shaft throbbed with every stroke of my right hand, it and my fingers were now glistening with pre cum dribbling the tip. He was responding nicely to me. Before my smoke filled lips locked again around my filter and heaved in once again.

Again not everyone's taste

 

[Not2Pervy]

I feel like I really could use some improvement beginning stories. Most of the examples people are offering up here seem very “writerly,” and although I can appreciate that, personally I think my best opening was in Part 2 of my half-hearted (because I couldn’t fully commit to actual incest) attempt at an I/T series. I think it does a decent job of grabbing the reader:

"Dad, how big is your cock?"

Two weeks ago that question would have shocked me right onto my ass, but after what happened last week, now, when I heard my 21-year-old daughter, Samantha, ask me that question, it almost didn't shock me at all.

 

[THBGato]

From Wheelchair Bound?
It was the door-frame incident that had really knocked Ali's confidence.
She'd tied me up, as kinky girlfriends do, leather restraints round my wrists and the two buckled together behind my back.

That's brilliant. I do like a good in media res opening. Bookmarking that to read later.

 

[Devinter]

"... But bananas are full of potassium!" Raine's plight was clear in her voice. "They're good for you."

"That does not mean that they go on pizza!" Jason growled, showing a surprising level of determination for a boy that most would describe as quiet and laid-back. "Even the 'pineapple people' would agree with me here, I'm sure."

"Banana goes everywhere," Raine insisted.

- Unpublished work, WIP title: Bananas.