I'll take it from here #1

Kitti

Empress of Niflheim
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
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Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per week
  2. One post per week
  3. Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
  3. Prestige
  4. Douche
  5. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
The first sentence of a story can reel in the reader as they wonder what it means, what will happen next, or how it will tie in to the rest of the story. It can also be one of the hardest lines to write because it all begins with that first sentence.

Well, you're in luck! The purpose of this challenge is to see what you do with the rest of the story when the first sentence is provided. Use the sentence given as the first line of your story and see where it takes you from there.

First sentence:
Everyone thinks of cemeteries as quiet places but, for today at least, that was far from true.
 
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Everyone thinks of cemeteries as quiet places but, for today at least, that was far from true. In fact, Nisha could hear the music even before she stepped into the cemetery, which had her both perturbed and annoyed. This was supposed to be her quiet place, somewhere she came to relax and read, somewhere she drew art for her one day (hopefully) upcoming manga! Instead, there was a general hubbub, laughter and chitchat, and... Wait, is that the Monster Mash?

As she headed towards the heart of the graveyard, pushing past an annoying yet attractive werewolf and a fluffy evil demonlord sheep, she found the usual grave she reclined against was now decorated with streamers and flashing Christmas lights that spelled out "TO MY LITTLE PRINCESS!!!". Where did they even find electricity... oh. Sitting comfortable a few graves away was a very large white wolf who was radiating with electricity; it seemed he was powering this shindig.

"They even got you caught up in this, eh Raiju?" The wolf was the assistant of the lightning god and one of the most honourable and innocent sorts Nisha had ever met; she would bet half her anime collections that her father had told him some stupid tear inducing story that caused him to go along with this plan.

Speaking of her father... yes, there he was, ever the party animal. Laurent, over a thousand years and looking no more than thirty, handsome as always with his light blond hair and icy blue eyes, looking pretty much the exact opposite of his daughter. He had a red party hat strapped to his head and was holding what seemed like a party crown- Oh jeez, is that for me... oh man, puhlease...

"Nisha, ma cherie! You are finally here!" Laurent practically skipped over, a huge smile on his face as he plonked the crown on her head after he patted her black hair down. "Just in time! Happy birthday, ma petite!"

"Papa, you didn't have to..." She looked around, eyes widening when she saw someone in a wheelchair. "Wait... you brought-"

The blond vampire smiled, the look in his eyes softening as he gazed at his terminally ill wife. "It was your maman who wanted this party... who was I to say no?"

Nisha sighed a little before smiling. "Oh alright, but... no making me dance!"

"That is up to your boyfriend," Laurent replied with a chuckle, looking in the direction of the werewolf who was of course dancing his way over to the duo.

"Ugh..." Nisha shook her head before deciding she could handle it. One last party for her... for her maman.​
Tagging @SkittlesAndSpike because the werewolf, the sheep and the wolf belong to him. :bananaman:
 
Everyone thinks of cemeteries as quiet places but, for today at least, that was far from true. The flashing lights and distinct male chatter brought a sense of anxiety into Mel's heart but he'd promised himself--and his therapist, that he wouldn't let anxiety run his life anymore. Graveyards were sacred places, places where the most dramatic thing that could happen was a person wailing over their loved one's demise. Mel assumed that someone important had died and that's why all these cops were gathered around an open grave. He couldn't quite understand why they felt the need to park their cars onto the graveyard lawn instead of in the parking lot but hey--They were cops and they could usually do whatever the hell they wanted. Still, were the lights really necessary?

Either way, this wasn't his business. He just wanted to get to his perfect place. His therapist had told him to find one--a perfect place. He probably hadn't intended for the graveyard to be Mel's place but it was the only spot in the entire city that made him feel calm. It was a beautiful spot right under a willow tree, that you could climb if you wanted to but Mel didn't because he worried about falling.

"Young man!" A voice boomed behind him and Mel's heart leaped into his throat. He turned around slowly, eyes wide, body trembling. An officer was striding towards him. Why? Why was he coming over? Mel hadn't done anything! God, he was getting closer. Closer. Closer! Why was he so close?!

"Y-y-es, sir--officer?" The teenager stammered, shrinking away from the impossibly tall man. His therapist told him that when men got to close to him, that he should ask them politely to step back and if they didn't , to just walk away. Mel was quite sure he couldn't do either of those things now or risk getting grabbed--or...Worse.

"The graveyard staff told me that you're a regular here. Did you ever come in contact with Mr. Rodriguez?"

Mr. Rodriguez was the caretaker of the graveyard and the only man Mel didn't fear as much. He always stayed at least ten steps away from Mel and never got offended when Mel asked him to move back a little bit more.

"I t-talked to him just yesterday around this time w-why?" Mel asked, mind still clouded with fear and now confusion.

The officer huffed out through his nose and bowed his head a little bit. He reached out to touch Mel's shoulder and the boy jerked away, prompting the cop to give him a curious look. "Mr. Rodriguez was found dead in a grave this morning. We believe foul play was involved."

"Wh...at?"

-- --
Eh...I don't feel like finishing the story.
 
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Everyone thinks of cemeteries as quiet places but, for today at least, that was far from true. The whole family was together for Thanksgiving, and that meant there was a multitude of teenagers with a lot of pent up energy. We were playing Hide and seek in the back yard but there were enough places to hide, so it got old quick. Jaron was the one to suggest that they cross the street and play in the cemetery.

At first we were a little reluctant. It was getting dark, and though we had flashlights it was still a cemetery. But as teenagers are like to do, we succumbed to his constant prodding and taunts about out lack of bravery and snuck across the street. Jaron climbed over and lifted the metal hook and let us all in. it felt like a criminal thing and that made it really exciting to all of us.

We played not realizing what our game might look like to someone who was not playing, and soon there were flashing lights outside the gate of the cemetery and we were being rounded up by several police officers. We stood in a long straight line, oldest to youngest and shook in out shoes. We were not as worried about the police as we were our parents.

All of the policemen but two left and then one of them came and stood towering over us, "So...who's the oldest here?"

Michael stepped forward, "I am Sir."

"What were you all doing in there? This is private property you know."

"We were laying flashlight tag, Sir. And no I thought it was public property, Sir."

"Hmm...Where are your parents?"

"In the yellow house across the street Sir."

"Let's go have a talk with them, shall we?"

The collective groan that came from out mouths made the officer almost grin, but he managed to stay somber looking as we filed across the street in our perfectly straight line. Once he rang the doorbell and my father answered we all darted in and ran for cover in the livingroom.

My dad who was shocked by the rush and the officer's presence was amazing calm, "Is there a problem Officer?"

"Your kids, I assume a few of those were yours, were across the street playing in the cemetery. Were you aware of that?"

"No sir I was not," he said looking over at all of us.

It was at this time my uncle stepped up and shook the officer's hand, "Was that a problem? I told them they could play over there...we always did as kids...it's kind of a rite of passage."

The Officer blinked and wasn't sure if my uncle was serious or not, "Well, yes Sir. It's private property and they scared the elderly woman next door about into a heart attack. She called the precinct scream about ghosts."

"Oh, that is unfortunate then. But between you and me she's been off her rocker since I was a teenager..."

My dad was turning beet red, "Officer...I can assure you it will not happen again." He said elbowing my uncle hard in the side.

"Keep an eye on them, or there will be a fine involved next time." He said and then tipped his hat and left.

We were still hiding behind the sofas and chairs in the living room trying to blend into the woodwork. My uncle came in and whispered, "You can come out now...the fuzz is gone."
 
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Everyone thinks of cemeteries as quiet places but, for today at least, that was far from true. "Damn magpies." I glared up at the trees above me as the chattering of the iridescent birds escalated. It was as if they had no respect for the dead- but I knew that wasn't true. They held their own little bird funerals when one of their own dropped, after all.

I scowled harder at them but their squabbling cries didn't quiet even as I lay the bouquet of roses down on the gravesite. Maybe it was because Grandpa Marcus was notorious for shooting the birds when they raided his cornfield. Was it a form of revenge for their fallen?

As I stood up and started to walk away from the noise, I recalled how many of the birds I'd seen my grandfather shoot. I knew they had never taken much, so I had always been confused when I saw him perched up on his tower with the shotgun resting across his lap. Now I understood.

Magpies were annoying.
 
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Everyone thinks of cemeteries as quiet places but, for today at least, that was far from true. As a visitor to Thailand, I soon learned that their customs are a little bit different - and a whole lot more rowdy. Like most East Asians, the Thai people believe in reincarnation, a system in which people's souls transmigrate and are reborn into this world. However, due to years and years of integrated folk worship, Thai people also think that there's a sort of holding pen for people before they are reborn into the cycle, and depending on the actions of your children and your children's children, this can greatly affect whether your stay in that holding pen is a nice one or not.

Part of the send-off in a Thai funeral is a whole ream of firecrackers. They're meant to make a lot of noise, both to scare off evil spirits that might be looking to snatch the soul of the deceased, as well as to carry off the loved one to purgatory. Now, they say that if you want to seriously make sure that loved one stays safe, you'd best invest in a big bundle of firecrackers - not to mention, the fact it's a bit of a social standing marker, like buying a fancy casket.

So after they burn the body (funeral pyres are still very much in vogue there) the firecrackers are lit, and if you happened to come from a rich family, those firecrackers end up being very, very, very loud and very long. In my case, I happened to be sleeping in a bed and breakfast right across from a temple doing a funeral ceremony, and that was my rude awakening that morning: a sendoff to the dead, and a wake up call to the living.