Write the worst opening to a novel you can

write the worst opening to a novel you can
then the ending too if you want

Shit was dribbling down my leg as though it was the words on the page that I was writing.

It was the best of times, it was the blurst of times.

>I actually wrote this when I was 17 FYI

Hitherto, the apex of human verisimilitude could be said to be the inestimable discovery of the Garden of Eden, the invention of liberty or perhaps the sampling of such luridly appreciated works of art as sculpture, painting or song disseminated for all, or even more popularly in the works of Mighty Zizek, blessed be his name. But the zenith of humanity is yet on the horizon, only now rising unprompted in conjunction with the unfetterence of this, the most perfect manuscript ever called forth from the dim sinusoidal writhing of the mental serpent so fondly spoken of by Burton and which has issued this excessively penetrative form of the written word for easy consumption and dubious understanding, this Babylon, this inestimable message in a metaphorical bottle, the author’s clear and concise dispatch to the one fortunate soul in the future who will some day unravel the true meaning and as such fully comprehend the sheer rubicund incandescence of this most precious Gem. It is to you, unborn reader, that I, the inimitable Author, dedicate this missive, the last departure from a restless soul, a patchwork figure presiding over the fallow and lifeless wastes of creative endeavour, finally exhausted by this act of plunder, as if to say “Go no further, there is nothing left for you here”. And indeed, any attempt to undertake a creative project from this point forward is doomed to a most insalubrious suffocation by the towering shadow of my White Whale, myself being retroactively reborn as a modern-day Ishmael, chasing the sun in the penning of this superlative document of which humanity knows no equal. So read on past this mild harbinger of words to come and become one of the lucky elite, the philosopher kings of society whose minds have been set free by nought but the sheer and honest truth, risen above even the shoulders of giants through exuberant self-expression and prose. This will not be a pondering Epic Of Gilgamesh, but a prancing touchstone of uplifting trumpery, no Beowulf but a saga it’s equal none the less. Surely the wit and wisdom contained within is sufficient to cow even the most die-hard of cynics, as the modest Author’s humble genius is made transparent to you, slowly so as to avoid stunning and shattering your mind, yet nonetheless inexorably overwhelming in stature

>tfw you have a thesaurus but don't know how to use it

>"Who is John Gait?"

it was meant to be ironic iirc. the idea was that i would write a collection of short stories around the joke that the author was a self-delusional retard, kinda like Don Quixote.

but, predictably, nobody got the joke so it just looked like i was the self-delusional retard. not my finest hour.

>i was just pretending to be retarded.jpg

His uncle was the trombone player in a band at a chubby chaser bar. Nightly he'd bring home lardasses, a long tradition that long since burst the shocks on the passenger side of his Pontiac Aztec. Whale sounds and methane filled the night air as fat flaps opened and expelled stale air into the house, getting sucked up into the ventilation and blowing all over Jerome's face as he slept. His sense of smell ruined, he was able to survive the shitpocalypse that fell upon humankind. He never thought he'd be thankful to his uncle for that, but he sure was.

>unborn reader
What did he mean by this?

That original passage is SO corny but SO beautiful. I honestly feel like I should hate it but I fucking love it.

>it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair
Fucking hell I feel a knot in my chest just writing it out.

>Once upon a moonlit blah
>As a young man blah
>When all was said and done blah

but i actually was that time, honest.

you can see why noone believed me though.

the idea is that the writing is so deep and complex, it will be generations before someone smart enough to understand it is born. the book is really intended for his/her eyes, not for all the plebs who will read it in the meantime (like you). So its dedicated to this "unborn reader" who is its eventual target.

if that makes sense.

The vein in the side of my cock visibly contracted as I pumped cum into my wife's perfect peach shaped ass. I felt vibrating at the tip of my penis from her seizure-like orgasm. I pulled my cock out and watching the cum pour down her pussy lips. I got a whiff of her asshole - a poor man's viagra - I was rock hard immediately and ready for more. I put it in her pussy this time. I looked up and my eyes saw the window, where I saw two glowing red eyes staring back at me. My blood boiled. My head began pounding. Ringing in my ears. I wiped the cum from the first ejaculation off her asshole and put it in her mouth, then she kissed me with her cummy shitty mouth. My dick was painfully hard. I rammed it back in her ass to try and cum as fast as possible just to end the pain. The red eyes from the window met me again. The ringing grew more and more intense. My dick was now burning. A rage came over me. I began punching the bottom of my wife's back with a fury. I looked back down at her ass. It was no longer a perfect peach shaped ass. It changed, it was hairy like a man's ass, shaped like deflated soccer ball, disgusting. I kept punching her lower back in a fit of rage. I saw her face, she changed, she was disgusting. I pulled my dick out of her ass. I turned her around. She shrieked like she was possessed. Her teeth looked sharp like an animal and her face moved towards me. I punched her in the nose as hard as possible. I kept punching her face, til she was on the floor, then I punched more and more. Her pulse stopped. Suddenly I saw her face again and she was even hotter than before she mutated. She got up. Her rectum prolapsing from my repeated pounding of her lower back while fucking her asshole. I was hard as a rock. She showed me the pink organ tissue spilling out of her asshole and made me suck it like a dick, cummy and shitty and bloody from my previous fuck. I sucked it like a dick. I came immediately without touching my dick. So much cum. The room began overflowing with my cum. I was completely immersed in a pool of my own semen and i could see all the sperm cells. They took the shape of white piranhas with bloodshot eyes and gums, and they swarmed me, gnawing my flesh off while I was still alive. It was too painful to even scream. I tried to swallow as much semen as possible to drown as fast as possible but I couldn't move my mouth because I was covered in cum piranhas.

I woke up, cold sweats. Thank god. It was just a dream. I checked my phone. The 12 consecutive texts I sent my crush last night just said "Read 11:43 P.M." and no reply. I never had a wife. I never even had a kiss. My alarm clock will go off soon. Shaking. I have to go to work. Not sure what's worse, my cubicle or being eaten alive by cum piranhas while drowning in a pool of my own semen. I got a text! Is it her? Fuck. It's my student loan borrower service, my payment is past due.

>that was the beginning of the book

i ironically enjoyed this

...

i ironically wrote it, so unironically thank you senpai

Did you know the original author (or I suppose editor) of the Tibetan Book of the Dead supposedly hid the book for 700 years for the same reason? He thought the knowledge would do more harm than good for an unprepared culture.

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

>"I am skeptical towards meta-narratives." said John Everyman

CRASH

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!
Ugh, my alarm clock! I woke up.

lol'd my ass off

My alarm clock! Ugh, I woke up.

>And but so'st

I knew when it as going to happen. I knew but I didn't stop it. The empty house would become my tomb. There is no point in escaping. My past has finally caught up to me. I must face it. The men who want me have found me. If you don't reply to this post, your mother will die, yes, die, in her sleep.

The sneak-a-puss cat tried to sneak away with a slice of pizza.

...

And that was pretty much the end of that.

Holy...

"It'a smells'a like'a someone goes'a shit all over my face!" Pappy Joseppa said, and I felt the crook of his cane smash into my eye and the bone shattering.

"Now'a you a one eye shitty faggot!" Pappy said as I lay in the growing pool of blood, and the nickname that would haunt me until mid-life was born.

I like this post. Feels very subversive, post-garfieldian, in a manner that doesn't know if its ironies were intended or not.

Not having put his green wellingtons on, the gather grey skies spake dark forebodings of a day most soggy indeed.

The end.

Happenstance occured twice today for Tobias Wintersoter, once round the corner rounding the corner he ran into Trisha later in the doctors office he ran into her sister. She said that Trisha said I looked pale lately. I nodded paley. The other time oblivious to the circumstance he was in, but earlier that night he was told "don't worry about the bum on the corner", he breezed pass, again obvious of this, the bum on the corner holding a sign "Repent"

For a long time, I jizzed early.

I was at my middle school. I hadn't been here for 9 years. My Middle school girlfriend, Christina, clasped my hand and smiled at me. Her face looked no diffferent to the day I met her. A soft warm happiness drifted over my body, like there was a music playing that only I could hear. As I turned to look at Nicole again all I couldn't see her face, the music was playing, I asked the teacher what was wrong and he said I was in the wrong class. This was a Music class and I was supposed to be in Maths. I went to the Maths class and the teacher asked me why I was late. I told her I was looking for Christina but she forced me to sit down. Suddenly I remembered I forgot to do my homework, but luckily I was a skilled pianist and began improvising. Nicole smiled at me as I played loud and louder. The music played louder and louder. Christina leant over to me and whispered in my ear: "Wake up"

So beautifully terrible.

The monger monged his articles long past the time when mongers ceased to monger; he couldn't help it, mongering had hold of his heart. Finally, the weary monger stopped.

This just got me wondering, is there a book with a genuinely compelling "dream sequence" which isn't shit

Only one enemy remained

That's pretty good desu, it's got a juvenile train-of-thought quality to it

I used to be an ordinary girl. Kinda loner, kinda pretty, kinda nerdy, the only-goes to school dances with groups of friends kind of girl. I didn't have too many boyfriends, and we never went past first base anyways, so my love life was kinda boring. I got B's in class, had two parents and a younger, bratty brother, and only had an old beat up mazda to drive.

You know the kind. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Or so I thought. But I also hadn't thought that witches were real, let alone that I was one. Or that my arch nemesis would be the most likely candidate for homecoming king.

But I probably should start at the beginning.

Is this real

Please tell me this is real and you didn't just write it now user

Any form of meta opening that addresses the reader either directly or indirectly

Ex: I was once a wide eyed teen with a blah blah blah etc

I did just write it while sitting here.

Is it bad or good?

I ain't never run from nothin' but the police.

Really epitomized YA mediocrity, well done

...

wow this is fucking terrible, good work

really nailed the smug tone

I first met 50 in the summer of '06.

If you're reading this, it's already too late.

This triggered memories of The Name of This Book is Secret, which I really enjoyed.

I hate to say it, but while this is bad, it would probably also sell.

Thanks Veeky Forums, this is the happiest I've been all day.
I'd like to thank Disney Channel, Twilight, awful English teachers and terrible public taste for the inspiration.

Banana Boy, son of Manny Malone, whipped out his dirty detective cuffs and cufferoo'd the beady-eyed bugger in front of him.

"Look at this boolin brodie over here," said Banana Boy to his coppo mates. "Yer days of messin' around with the town are over, young man."

The boolin brodie in question had the name Jon and a vindictive glare, but lacked any semblance of shame: Banana Boy had caught in the midst of his latest dirty deed: waving his woolie-woo in front of some poor kiddos in the park, kiddos who'd theretofore been slippin' down slides and oogling this man's woolie.

~~~

idk whether i should continue this story or not. comments on style will be very valued

CRASH. My dog had just made a major enemy, two if you counted God.

cunt

when I was younger I started writing a story about a super assassin who had his senses of taste, touch, and smell removed to enhance his sight and hearing (cause that makes sense). All I remember is Halloween became a huge holiday so that's the assassin's favorite time to kill cause he could wear his equipment without anyone caring.

If I remember correctly the first sentence was "He was going to kill a man tonight".

>assassin
>no sense of touch
You goofed. This is like a Chris Farley movie.

>"He was going to kill a man tonight".
decent opening line for middlebrow genre fiction, desu, it's gripping

Good.

Wait, shit.

nic

First 2 sentences weren't bad

Waking up to a loud crash rarely means something good is happening. It’s never “CRASH! Mom made pancakes!” or “CRASH! We decided to adopt a Golden Retriever!”

The opening is fine, that story idea is a bit dumb though, unless you make it comedic.

Only one enemy remained; two if you counted God.

Jon considered the sky and wondered if he really knew who he was. And it was fucking sick.

i know you wrote that unironically

holy... I want more...

user, it's supposed to be bad, you fucked up

Reminds me of an extremely reddit version of an opening line from a John Wyndham book

>John Wyndham
>it's never CRASH we got a golden retriever, it's CRASH dark red tentacles roping in through the shattered window, snagging Mary in the belly and dragging her kicking through the gaping debris.

>it's never CRASH we got a golden retriever, it's CRASH everyone in the world has gone blind

That's more like it

"not wearing socks inside your shoes is gross"

"yeah, but comfy"

Stately plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.

Delet this.

the end:
preserving magnitude wasn't worth it

>But I also hadn't thought that witches were real, let alone that I was one.
top keke

what? you cannot avoid addressing the reader in some fashion

Lmao I would read this, unironically good. Just don't make it too long

FUCK YOU

In a strange way if felt reassuring to cringe as hard as I did reading this. I've worried for a while I'm becoming desensitised.

Here's a challenge. See if anyone can rework this sentence to make it at least semi-decent as an opening.

That sounds like a pretty decent opening for a young-teenage audience

This annoys me on precisely 6 levels

At first I thought it was just funny

Though now I know it's ironic it's actually rather smart, I'm picking up on things I skipped over
Fairly original, it's funny reading something with heaps of references thrown in, in a satirical way

>Waking up to a loud crash rarely means something good is happening. It’s never “CRASH! Mom made pancakes!” or “CRASH! We decided to adopt a Golden Retriever!”

One rarely wakes up to the sound of a loud crash to realise something positive has happened. Never is a crash followed by the soft scent of pancakes wafting into the room, nor is it followed by the friendly barks of a newly adopted companion.
I don't think I'm very good but it wasn't an easy task

Waking to a crash most often occurs at a bad time - rarely good; as though crash! eureka! or crash comes a sought after soul: welcome!

meant for

>"yeah, but comfy"

>Those run-on sentences
> heavy thesaurus use

I'm glad you've seen the light.

write a novel about florida man desu

"This story will never have an ending."
"I lied in the beginning; the end."

your mother will explode in a sky diving accident
from a feculent overdose

-I'm no fag- he muttered as my throbbing cock was slippin through his beautiful, ballon like boipussy...

You made it worse

This is grade A

>ballon like boipussy
Wow that's a terrifying thought.

worse

hmmm... worse because it lacks its original simplicity.

fucking hell

They really aren't