Jim Porter: 2011 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest results | SierraSun.com

Jim Porter: 2011 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest results

Jim Porter
Special to the Sun

TAHOE/TRUCKEE and#8212; The Bulwer-Lytton contest challenges entrants to compose bad opening sentences to imaginary novels. It takes its name from the novelist Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, who began his novel and#8220;Paul Cliffordand#8221; with and#8220;It was a dark and stormy night.and#8221; Here are a few of this yearand#8217;s winners.

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Cheryland#8217;s mind turned like the vanes of a wind-powered turbine, chopping her sparrow-like thoughts into bloody pieces that fell onto a growing pile of forgotten memories. (2011 Overall Winner)

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Five minutes before his scheduled execution, Kip found his thoughts turning to his childhood and#8212; all those years ago before he had become a contract killer whose secret weakness was a severe peanut allergy, even back before he lost half of a toe in a gardening accident while doing community service and#8212; but especially to Corinne, the pretty girl down the street whom he might have ended up marrying one day if she had only shown him a little more damn respect.

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The executioner sneered as the young queen ascended the stairs to the guillotine; in the old days, he thought, at least there was some buildup, a little time on the rack or some disemboweling, but nowadays everyone wants instant gratification.

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As his small boat scudded before a brisk breeze under a sapphire sky dappled with cerulean clouds with indigo bases, through cobalt seas that deepened to navy nearer the boat and faded to azure at the horizon, Ian was at a loss as to why he felt blue.

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The Los Angeles morning was heavy with smog, the word being a portmanteau of smoke and fog, though in LA the pollutants are typically vehicular emissions as opposed to actual smoke and fog, unlike 19th-century London where the smoke from countless small coal fires often combined with fog off the Thames to produce true smog, though back then they were not clever enough to call it that.

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LaTrina and#8212; knowing he must live and#8212; let her hot, wet tongue slide slowly over Gladiatorand#8217;s injured ear, the taste reminding her of the late June flavor of a snow chain that had been removed from a tire and left to rust on the garage floor without being rinsed off.

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Like a bird gliding over the surface of a Wyoming river rippled by a gentle Spring breeze, his hand passed over her stretch marks.

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Deanna waited for him in a deliberate pose on the sailor-striped chaise lounge of the newly-remodeled Ramada, her bustier revealing the tops of her white breasts like eggs and#8212; eggs of the slightly undercooked, hard-boiled variety, showing a nascent jiggle with her apprehensive breath, eggs that were then peeled ever-so-carefully so as not to pierce the jellied, opaque albumen and unleash the longing, viscous yolk within and#8212; yes, she lay there, oblong and waiting to be deviled.

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She gazed smolderingly at the mysterious rider, his body cloaked in enough shining black leather to outfit an Italian furniture store, wrapped so tightly each muscle stood out like a flamboyant Mexican hairdresser at an Alabamian monster truck rally; and he met her gaze with an intensity that couldnand#8217;t have been matched by even a starving junkyard dog in the meat aisle of a suburban supermarket.

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Monroe Millsand#8217; innovative new fabric-dyeing technique was a huge improvement over stone-washing: denim apparel was soaked in color and cured in an 800-degree oven, and the companyand#8217;s valued young dye department supervisor was as skilled as they came; yes, no one could say Marilyn was a normal jean baker.

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Business was kinda slow at the and#8216;If You Build Itand#8217; sperm bank.

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Dawn crept up like the panther on the gazelle, except it was light, not dark like a panther, and a panther, though quiet, could never be as silent as the light of dawn, so really the analogy doesnand#8217;t hold up well, as cool as it sounds, but it still is a great way to begin a story; just not necessarily this particular one.

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As the young officer studied the oak door, he was reminded of his girlfriend and#8212; for she was also slightly unhinged, occasionally sticky, and responded well to being stripped and given a light oiling.

Jim Porter is an attorney with Porter Simon, with offices in Truckee, South Lake Tahoe and Reno. He is a mediator and was the Governorand#8217;s appointee to the Fair Political Practices Commission and McPherson Commission, both involving election law and the Political Reform Act. He may be reached at porter@portersimon.com or at the firmand#8217;s website http://www.portersimon.com.