The dark west wind, the sea wind, was already scattering the voices in the darkness. It toyed with them a moment and then lifted them all together, dispersing them with an angry roar. The voice which Mouchette had just heard hovered in the air a long time, like a dead leaf floating interminably. opening lines of Mouchette by Georges Bernanos
I had the pleasure of encountering these opening lines this weekend and was swept away by them. I love finding the beauty in a string of words. I suppose this is why I tinker with every sentence I write so many times until I hear the sound in them that I picture in my head.
I'm going to fight my natural urge of not sharing unedited writing and share with you the the first hand-written note I made the other day for the opening of the novel I'm planning on writing next. It will most likely change a million times, but regardless, the following lines are what will get the ball rolling for me, whether they stay or not.
Laura says it's the lightning that brightens the sky but to me it feels more like the thunder does most of the work. The lightning is only a pretty color shooting against the darkening clouds -- the thunder shakes inside the soft center of my bones . Lightning doesn't scare me the same way thunder does and my fear is what makes everything too bright to look at.