Hook Thread

ITT: We post hooks from our stories and decide if they actually draw any of you hesitant, suspicious fuckers in.

Veeky Forums snobs are hardest to engage with hooks, so lets see you work your magic on them.

C R A S H

After twenty years in the Army, Johnny is about to face his biggest challenge: getting a retirement job at a second-rate department store run by addicts, idiots, the mentally ill, and a whore.


query hook for my first book.

(Note. The term aseasonal refers to the lack in the tropical zone of large differences in daylight hours and mean monthly (or daily) temperature throughout the year. Annual cyclic changes occur in the tropics, but not as predictably as those in the temperate zone, albeit unrelated to temperature, but to water availability whether as rain, mist, soil, or ground water. Plant response (e. g., phenology), animal (feeding, migration, reproduction, etc.), and human activities (plant sowing, harvesting, hunting, fishing, etc.) are tuned to this 'seasonality'. Indeed, in tropical South America and Central America, the 'rainy season' (and the 'high water season') is called invierno or inverno, though it could occur in the Northern Hemisphere summer; likewise, the 'dry season' (and 'low water season') is called verano or verão, and can occur in the Northern Hemisphere winter).

Mom made a golden retriever and CRASHed at Chad's house. He made pancakes.

M O T H E R

M A D E

You underestimate how awful the military really is. You're dealing with whores, idiots and the mentally ill all the fucking time.

I know, I was in the military too.

But the average reader doesn't know that.

not one enemy but two *yaaaaawn*

The game was over with not one winner and with a single also-ran.

Doctor goes to small island to cure plague in the 19th/early 20th century, finds out magic may actually be real and so is monsters, more specifically trolls and elfs who are not very PG 13.

Only one villain was left standing; two if you include the almighty.

meme
little cheesy, try to somehow drop the colon.
alright
pancakes
good
lewd
meme

A man kills his gay son because he finds him in bed with his gay lover. Everyone is gay. It's mostly erotica.

"Did you miss me?" said Greg.
"No."
"Then I'll fuck you harder."
Greg pulled her dress off and bent her over. Without further notice he shoved Little Greg (as he liked to call it) into her. She shut her eyes and started daydreaming.
She wasn't in the Brothel anymore, she was in the meadows in the spring. The wind was licking her face as she ran around collecting flowers. There were children smiling, running around, playing. She was in a happy place. Everything was beautiful.
Greg flipped her and started licking her neck, her tits, then pushed Little Greg back in.
She wasn't with Greg.

"U an innelectuwal?"
"No."
"Das why you read Plate."

Tanks are sexy girls and this story is about their sex lives.

No. C'mon? Really? Seriously? NO!

>little cheesy

Supposed to be. I kind of wanted to set the book up with this, "Uh oh, tough army guy shows up and shows everyone who's boss!" type plot, but it goes in an entirely different direction.

If you read actual queries, they're all cheesy as fuck.

got it, didnt mean to come off as a dick with that, just pointed it out

The 2009 Toyota Prius in my driveway the was flooded with the scent of a pine trees due to an air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror despite the decomposing body in the trunk.

>the was
>scent of a pine trees
>no commas
>prius

Dropped

I have written the personality of Donald Trump into a twelve year old girl.

Do you think it will sell?

Maybe the sun ponders, too

Greg is not the name you want.

Agreed

"And then there's Marty!" I screamed.

Isn't that just the obnoxious rich one from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?

does he find out his son is gay in that moment or did he know the whole time?

Who is marty?

A depressed 15-year-old boy who dropped out of school tries to kill himself several times. But someone always ruins his plan. And one day, the prankster invites the boy to their place.

>cyclical

>A depressed 15 year-old boy
Dropped.

Let's hope the Prius driver was the body decomposing in the trunk.

Fearing reprisals, Alice and Bob test the limits of His reach

“I don’t want to do this,” my friend clutched my little 12-year old arm, “it’s scary and cold.” I could not really blame her; I mean I could feel the wind whip through my skin, and a cold shiver run through my body as I looked at the cold slabs in the graveyard, almost like a ghost has just gone through my skin. Even still, I was a curious little boy, and I wanted to try to at least stay for a few more minutes.

“Don’t worry so much,” I assured her even though I was mostly talking to myself, “we just are in a graveyard, looking through it. There is no such thing as ghosts anyway…” My friend just sighed and continued to clutch my arm and held it there. And we continued walking.

It was at this time that we saw a certain gravestone that really piqued our Curiosity. It was almost 10 o’clock PM. We were told to leave the graveyard after around 10:30. The evenly spaced patterns of stone slabs lay straight before Us, mocking our complete fear of walking through this. Maybe watching that ghost movie the day before we walked through the graveyard was not the best idea. We did not really want to stay there any Longer, but I noticed something there that stayed with me since then. A gravestone with a man’s name embedded, a human name of a man who either fell in conflict, disease, or a strange combination thereof. However, it was the year that truly makes me think back, the time that this man died, the time of 1778.

“Wow,” was all that my friend said, “He looks really old.”

Old. That word rings through every Southerner’s life. Old is what makes the South the South, even when the North was made a lot longer than the former. We care so much about our heritage, from the positive like the creation of the South and the revolutionary war, to the negatives like slavery and the Civil War. And even though we had negative experiences, the most important thing is that Southerners have a richer heritage than Northerners do. A great example of this is the Civil War. Nearly all battles of the Civil War took place in the South. And because of that, there are many gravestones that symbolize the men’s faithful death during their time on the war. These remnants of and to the war can be found all over the South, yet there is nothing there to show off what the North’s past. All the North can boast about is the founding of the New World and maybe the Revolutionary War. Southerners can boast a cacOphony of different historical and symbolic arenas that can be truly tapped into.
That’s why when I went to the gravestone I smiled. Because I understood who I was and where I come from. The gravesTones were a symbol of the South’s great history. And I learned that it is probably a culture that I would love to be in.

go on...

>i was a curious little boy
you've already established your age
>my little 12-year old arm
just say you were curious

didnt read the rest

>It was almost 10 o’clock PM. We were told to leave the graveyard after around 10:30.
>A gravestone with a man’s name embedded, a human name of a man who either fell in conflict, disease, or a strange combination thereof.
>However, it was the year that truly makes me think back, the time that this man died, the time of 1778.
>Old. That word rings through every Southerner’s life. Old is what makes the South the South, even when the North was made a lot longer than the former.
>All the North can boast about is the founding of the New World and maybe the Revolutionary War. Southerners can boast a cacOphony of different historical and symbolic arenas that can be truly tapped into.

Nigga u tarded

People are getting loglines confused with hooks in here

This is the last time I accept a job that sounds too good to be true.

Alistair’s body was a mess, pain emanating from all the wrong places. He raised his head, the effort momentarily dizzying him, and looked around. He could tell that he was in some sort of small hut, and it was still light outside. The next thing he noticed were his hands and feet bound with rough rope, and whoever had tied him up knew what they were doing. Any effort to escape only tightened the rope further. He could see streaks of dried blood on the rope. The stool he sat on creaked as he looked around, trying to gather as much information as possible. Unfortunately, the hut was empty, and he had to assume the lone door out of this hut was locked. There were no windows, and his sword was nowhere to be found. Weighing his options, Alistair elected to remain seated and conserve as much energy as possible, his head pounding as he tried to remember his military training.

‘Graves?’, he ventured out loud, hoping his friend was alright. No reply.

Garbage
Boring
Genre garbage
Gay
Garbage
Interesting
Ya garbage
Lame
That's not a hook you fucking retard is an excerpt.
See previous

One enemy remained; two if you counted God.

...

His head was cradled in the crook of her arm correctly, and the velvet static of her cardigan was an explosion designed to hit him into an incoming wall of liquid, a jet of bubbles wrapping air with water behind him as he was propelled tumultuously forward. Animals took shape in his mind as the aubergine palette of this dirty blotted aquarelle wilted and washed away, oh you can bet, prehistoric and flamboyant beasts roamed and roared impudently and impolitely. At last he heard his mother’s voice muttering in a hushed litany, and the confusion localized him into a dense navel, which he realised was his stomach, still in agony, with his fingers curled clumsily around it.

There was a woman leaning over him, and her voice reached him before his eyes even saw her face. Its form can only be described with the utility of multiple metaphors, complexed into a simultaneous and interdependent unity, greater than the sum not only of its individual parts, but of all the wholes of all the possible configurations of those parts. It carried in itself the earnest qualities of rain drizzling, firewood crackling, cigarettes sizzling, magnified whispers and crumpled paper. From that moment on, no one could state anything to the contrary and still hope to win his respect, or even attention.

wrapped*

"Oy vey," intoned Mr Shekelburg,

"They know."

"Saint Nick forgot us, dad" quivered a lanky boy by the bare tree on the porch.

Detective reevaluates his relationship with his dead daughter as he investigates a murder where a group of preteen girls are the suspects

Why is there a bare tree on the porch?

I have no idea the difference

they're poor as hell, hoarders too

Gay
Gay
Gay in a good way
Gay in a bad way
No it doesnt. Pretentious and gay
Gay and emo like tokyo hotel
Jewish and gay
Gay
Pedo

All of these are gay but I guess id pick the pedo one if i had a gun to my head because its the least gay