johnathon frantically scrubs his hands, but the blood does not seem to come off.
li screams in utter pain as he burns, burns, burns.
jane looks through the viewfinder, and gagging, she pushes down on the shutter, *click*.
as bernice stands on top of the human pyramid, a thousand thoughts flood her mind.
what are friends? tommy wonders as he ruffles through his documents, who are they?
running from the entrance of the tunnel, his coffee in hand, harry turns the sharp corner as he always does, and suddenly finds himself lying on the floor.
“sexy,” joan says, “how much?”
leroy nervously glances around the train, and then at simone. he bites his lip, and cursing inwardly, grabs her hand.
“so you won,” paul storms, apparently oblivious to the elders that were present, “so what?”
life as it is never satisfies, or that seems like the case to jessica, whose day seems like every other day.
lightning flashes and thunder rumbles, but still ronald refuses to let go of his prize.
hate.
how much ?
your openers are a mix of working and not working. I’d say Number 12 and Number 5 are too general. I think Number 3 and 7 are working very well, with lots of potential for story but at the same time, showing variety and thought.