I've been challenged by the hosts of BYUtv's The New Creatives to do 100 creative works #TNCmy100 . Here are one and two: single-paragraph hooks for stories I haven't written yet.
One
Wind whistled through the branches, but Ken had no attention left to give it. Something was right there, in the bush under his front window. He could hear it, keening, a wail that set the hair on his arm at attention. Hidden in the shade of the oak, fifty feet away, he leveled his scope at the thorny greenery and held it there, asking for a look. Just a glimpse. Then he could decide whether he could shoot it, or whether he'd better just run like hell.
Two
Jacana set her screwdriver next to her screwdriver, picking up the tool with the same hand that set down the drink. The ice clinked, settling, and she froze. She didn't actually hold her breath, but she let it out so lightly a flame in front of her lips wouldn't have flickered. Gently, like a snowflake drifting to rest on a woolen cap, she set the blade of the 'driver to a tiny screw and gave it another quarter turn. Wincing just a fraction, she did it again, until she felt the wire pull. She set the screwdriver carefully on the edge of the table, picked up her drink, and drained it. No more. This bomb had to be the last one.
Ninety-eight to go.
~Cristof
