You're welcome to read this, but it was really just to test the length limit of posts. it appears to be at least 11,000 words lol. Chapter One: If the Dress Fits Frey marveled at her surroundings as she was escorted to the royal table. Opulence oozed from every corner of the banquet hall. Grandiose chandeliers, burning hundreds of candles, hung from the vaulted ceiling. They cast a flickering golden hue over the rich tableau below. “How did they light those candles all the way up there?” She mumbled to herself as a servant pulled her chair out. She stepped towards the table and waited for the chair to be slid under her before lowering her bottom as delicately as possible. “They winch them down, light them, and winch them back up,” the servant replied in a low whisper as he leaned over and spread a napkin across her lap. “You might see the pulleys attached to the cross beams if you look hard enough.” Frey blushed and chastised herself. She should be more careful. A proper princess would, of course, know how they lit the candles. Or, more likely, wouldn’t care. Keep your mouth shut, silly girl! Beneath the chandeliers, white linen dressed a dozen long feasting tables. Their silver and crystal place settings reflected distorted images of the diners taking their seats. Bedecked in exquisite fineries, the kingdom’s richest and most influential characters were earnestly engaged in high society chatter and gossip. They canoodled and cackled while waving their goblets at scurrying waiters. She admired the gowns worn by the ladies. She knew from her mother that fabric of any blue shade came at great expense, being the most difficult dye to procure from nature. Here there was a predominance of blue and indigo, violet and mauve on display. Clearly, these people enjoyed exhibiting their wealth. Almost as much as they enjoyed the King’s wine. But the garments were nothing compared to her own dress. An azure cloud of mulberry silk floated around her. Without breasts large enough to hold the strapless garment aloft, handmaidens had used hidden tape, stuck directly to her skin. Frey fought the urge to scratch her itching chest.

They say the first line of a story is either a door or a wall. We want doors. Dark ones. Share the opening line of something you're working on, or one you've always wanted to write but haven't yet. It can be one sentence. It can be two. Just make it the kind of line that makes someone need to know what comes next. Drop it in the comments 👇

A paragraph, an opening line, a scene that's been sitting in your drafts, or something you finished last night at 2am and can't stop thinking about. No polishing required. No apologies needed. Let's see what you've got!