First Lines, 10/11/13
First lines of the novel I won't be writing today:
"'I don't like telling stories,' the old man muttered. 'I have no use for them.'
He reached for his coffee, and his eyes fixed on a photograph hanging on a distant wall, taking on a ghost-town vacancy. After a moment, he mumbled this non-sequitur: 'They can't kill a memory. Only time can do that.'
Then, the old man who kept all of his stories in a rainbucket couldn't carry them anymore. One by one, they began to spill out."
— Damien Willis
October 11, 2013