The First Few Words

Fun little things often come to me in snippets of prose that never go anywhere. Beginnings of stories. Things that I'm not quite sure where they're running off to.

Like this, for instance:

The intricacy of her soul intrigued her.
She sat, the bank of the river rising and falling beneath her as if it were a living beast. Or was the just the beating of her heart?
She turned around.
Five sentences. Beginning of a character novel, I think. But who is the character? What does she want? What is she dreaming about? I don't know either. But, for some reason, lines like this pull at my heart. I want to know more about her. And the only way to do that is to write about her.

I know I'm shrugging. And sighing. And saying to myself "This will probably go nowhere." Hmm. But it might be nice going nowhere for a little while.
. . . 

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