In that spirit, I'm posting the opening lines of my various short story and novel manuscripts. Today we have:
"We’re all transparent. Hold your hand up to a light. Doesn't it make you anxious? Our bones and veins and organs, it’s just fruit suspended in strawberry jello. A bright enough light and our insides glow, a neon sign, open."
Although the story is by no means done, the opening paragraph, the spark which drove me to write this story down, originally began as follows:
"It's strange. Hold your hand up to a light. There are the bones, shadows swimming in red pink jelly. Veins like neon.That we can see through so easily. Guess that's what X-rays are. Just powerful light. Light bouncing and projecting, the world always a fraction of a second in the past. Maybe the whole thing is just a projection; theory that we’re all just holograms projected on dimensions of spacetime beyond perception."
Who knows what the next month will change.