Novel Opening Lines Novels & Stories

Novel's POV After returning home, the book seemed to pulse on my desk, demanding to be opened. Earlier, I’d told that woman I had a boyfriend, but the truth stung, Alexei hadn’t even asked me out yet. How pathetic of me. “The Book of Outer Land,” I whispered, sliding on my reading glasses. As I opened the cover, a cloud of ancient dust drifted upward, smelling of cedar and forgotten places. “Ouch, cough! Seriously?” I sputtered, waving the dust away. My eyes landed on the dedication page.

Little anchors. But this was not a note. The first line read: This is not a story that began with you. But it belongs to you entirely. I stopped. I read the line again. I read it a third time, pressing the pad of my thumb lightly against the letters as if the contact would explain something the words themselves wouldn't. Then I closed the notebook. My hands were not quite steady.

There were no more strings, no more cages, and no more secrets. ​"So," I said, closing the book. "What’s the first line of the next 150,000 words?" ​Damian pulled me close, the "Vulture" and the "Bride" vanishing into the shadows of the Scriptorium. "I think we’ll start with: 'They lived.'" ​

She opened the first copy, not to the first page, but to the dedication. For L and L, who showed me how to build a den. For everyone still looking for their log. And for the horizon, because it was always there. She closed the book and looked out the window at the grey, waking sea. The light was beginning to shift, the first pale gold of dawn touching the clouds. A new day. A new chapter. A whole life of them stretching ahead. She picked up her pen and began to write. Not about the past. Not about the pain. About a little girl and her grandfather, building a boat from driftwood and dreams. A new story. A new fox. A new den, waiting to be filled.