Welcome back to another Open Book Blog Hop!

Today’s topic is: What is the best opening paragraph you’ve written?

And remember to visit my fellow writers to see what they have come up with. You can find their works here!

If I’m being completely honest here, I really struggled with this week’s topic. Is it due to a lack of writing? Maybe – I do only have one book published and one in the latter stages of editing. But I do have a pretty decent catalogue of short stories to look through. My real problem is because I am hugely self critical. I don’t give myself the credit I probably deserve, because my writing isn’t awful. That being said, I did pick out two opening paragraphs that I’m particularly proud of. The first I’ll be sharing with you comes from a piece inspired by the classics of Edgar Allan Poe, called One Black Crow. You can read the full story here.

The wind gusted, whispering its raspy voice through the naked branches of the old oak tree. The crow ruffled its feathers against the biting gale. A chill rain tapped out an unsteady rhythm on the windowpane, barely lit by the sputtering flame of oil lamps. The solitary crow let out a chilling caw in the dead of night. It sat sentinel, looking over the darkened house. Only the faintest, pale yellow glow flickered from the rain-slicked upstairs window. The dim room was frigid, a bitter draft finding its way in through the dilapidated window frame of the old house. Sheets of discarded paper, torn to pieces or scrunched into balls littered the warped floorboards. The detritus of a troubled mind.

I really like this story, it’s something I really want to revisit and work on some more, see what I can come up with to enhance and expand it.

The second is from an untitled short story. It was inspired by a word prompt: “Nyctophilia: the condition of being very happy and comfortable in the dark.” This is another short story I was really happy with, and want to go back to and see where it might go. You can read the current story here.

He wandered aimlessly through the dense forest. The chill in the air invigorated him, for he knew his season approached. Nervous eyes regarded him warily from a distance, animals ready to run. Leaves carpeted the ground in a riot of yellow and red and orange. The forest was his safe space, somewhere he came to clear his head. He ventured closer to the edge of the treeline ready for his moment.