The stag
head loomed over her, mounted on the door like the beast had decided to peer
out just seconds before it met its doom. Its glassy marble gaze reflected her
tensed body, ready to lash out in a crackle of energy at the slightest sign of
trouble.
She tried
not to list out the ways this meeting could go wrong, but Althen’s voice played
out in a loop, almost becoming a mantra that braced her for her first meeting
with Death.
Avoiding
the stag’s gaze, she pushed the heavy mahogany doors open. It couldn’t be an
omen – the stag’s fate was not going to be hers.
She watched
the last of the parachutists drift towards the beach, where a crowd was
cheering and clapping even though the team was one short. Maybe no one had noticed
yet. It wasn’t the first time the explorers had returned incomplete.
The sun was
still hovering above the horizon, as though holding out for the last survivor.
There was still time – one could hope.
He found
the journal on the train, a black battered leather-bound volume stashed between
the seat and the window. Whether it was meant for him to find, he didn’t know.
But he worked it out of its hiding place and gingerly cracked it open. His
grandfather had told him to stay out of other people’s thoughts. But then
erring on the side of caution had landed him in the enemy’s hands anyway, so
there was no reason to heed his advice.
Red was the
colour of her hair, the flush in her cheeks when she laughed.
Red was her
dress at the ball she had never wanted to attend – she preferred to wander in
the forest with me instead. But I made her go, watching her from the shadowed
bushes far from the bright lights of the palace.
Red was the
bloodstained marble when she plunged to earth like a dying star, the pawn in a
ruthless game of power and betrayal.
Red was the
colour of the sky when she breathed her last in my arms.
(Images taken from Pinterest and Tumblr - none of them are mine.)
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Feel free to create your own story openings! Have a fruitful weekend :0)
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