The first few words are the hardest.

Today I sit at the computer after destroying my brain on some training from home and I found myself struggling to even start a short story. I’m not feeling particularly inspired, I suppose work will do that. Even Pokemon seems like an effort after my training. So since I was having trouble coming up with anything, I decided to toss out some of the first words of popular titles. Maybe they will inspire me, or maybe they’ll inspire you. Either way, today I’m making the effort to try and blog again and I’m hoping that I can get back on that writing horse soon.

Writing is its own therapy, lets hope it doesn’t take too long!

The Hunger Games – When I wake up, the other side of my bed is cold.

The Hobbit – In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

A Tale of Two Cities – It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone – Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four Privet Drive were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

Peter Pan – All children, except one, grow up.

1984 – It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

Fahrenheit 451 – It was a pleasure to burn.

Count of Monte Cristo – On the 24th of February, 1810, the look-out at Notre-Dame de la Garde signalled the three-master, the Pharaon from Smyrna, Trieste, and Naples.

Interview With The Vampire – “I see . . .” said the vampire thoughtfully, and slowly he walked across the room towards the window.

The Call Of Cthulu – The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.

The Divine Comedy – Midway upon the journey of our life, I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightforward pathway had been lost.

Fight Club – Tyler gets me a job as a waiter, after that Tyler’s pushing a gun in my mouth and saying, the first step to eternal life is you have to die.

These are a sampling from my bookshelf, the crazy things I read. The only one I like that isn’t on my book shelf is 1984’s start, it just screams ominous.

As for inspiration, perhaps I feel inspired now that I’ve read a few of these.

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The Chameleon

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I stared dumbfounded at the files, photos and documents spread across my desk. Another suicide. I flipped through photo after photo. No pattern of age, race or profession. Nine bodies. Nine identical suicides.

“Excuse me, Detective Ward?”

I glanced up at the cold looking man before me. His long, charcoal colored trench coat screamed internal affairs while his icy stare and steeled jaw whispered something more. “Uhh… yes? Can I help you with something?”

“I believe you already are.” He motioned slightly to a chair on the other side of my desk. “May I?”

“Of course, please.” I watched him as he sat, his eyes darting across the photos. My stomach turned uneasily. “So what am I helping you with?”

“This case, these so called suicides.” He smirked, and it looked as unnatural as it made me feel uncomfortable. “You don’t believe that’s all they are… do you?”

The collar of my shirt felt tight, and I adjusted it with a pair of fingers. “No. But this is an ongoing investigation, I don’t believe we shall continue this discuss-”

“I know someone who knows the killer.” The man interrupted.

I stared at him long and hard. “Sorry… what did you say your name was?”

“I never gave it.” He replied.

“Do you want me to arrest you and hold you for obstructing justice?” I clawed at my side for my handcuffs and slammed them on the desk once I felt the steel in my hands. “Get to the point, or get out!”

The man smiled, his pasty skin seemingly pulled too tight around his lips. “I’d be out before this evening. But I agree; To the point then. The person you are seeking is an ex government international agent.”

“Like a secret spy?” I nearly laughed out loud as I slid the cuffs from the desk. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh I’m quite serious.” The man said as he ran his fingers through his jet black hair. “This person is extremely dangerous.”

“If you know all of this, why come to me and not go to the government agency that deals with them?” I asked.

“Because that could implicate myself.” The man rose and nodded to me. “Now I must be on my way, good day Detective.” He began to step away, and turned back. “Go to Duchison Prison, ask for Mitch Maloney.”

“Mitch Maloney? The spy turned double agent that is in prison for life?” I shook my head. “Why?”

“Ask him about the Chameleon.” The man said. “You’ll find him rather… informative.”

As the man walked away I glanced back down to the pictures and shook my head. I shivered as chills ran up my spine and rose, grabbing my jacket and keys. Mitch Maloney? I hadn’t heard the name in nearly a decade, I guess I’d always assumed he’d died like the many other inmates who have gone to Duchison. But one thing bugged me even more than that.

What the hell did he mean by the Chameleon?

*To Possibly Be Continued*

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It’s not much… but it’s a start! Hopefully some of you will get back into it as well! Good luck!