The Two-Sentences Game

Write a sentence that suggests a narrative.
Write another sentence that furthers the story.
There should be tension between the two sentences.

Suggestions: define "tension" however you want. Try writing the first sentence without thinking about the second sentence. Then write the second sentence.

You could play this with a friend. You trade off writing second sentences to each other's first sentences.

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He ate my portion. But I didn't know until after I kissed him.

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Gently, I touched her hair. She cursed.

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I walked for hours before I found the store. Why was my brother working behind the counter?

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She always lied to me about David. If I'd read her novel, I'd have known the truth.

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He could do magic. Still, he dressed like a pig.

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He looked back at me, matching my own bewildered stare. It was my reflection in a window.

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She stretched out on the back-yard grass, watched the night sky, and listened to the wind moving through the leaves. She giggled.

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The air was fragrant and soft under the big pines. Then she saw the bear.

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I long for war. It's the only time I see you.

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The doorbell rang. All was lost.

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I tried not to wince as he licked my knuckles. I used to long for this.

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She took a small bite. Jesus, how long would it take her to finish the whole thing?

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It looked so harmless. Then I stuck my finger in it.

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I didn't want to believe. The book said I had to.

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The screaming was horrendous. Then he turned the page.

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It was mine. So I smashed the glass and took it.

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She looked carefully into his eyes. There it was. .

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He read it carefully. Then he read it again.

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She moved against the hand on her body. Then she wondered whose hand it was.

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They rubbed and rubbed their hands. The chalk still would not come off.

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He paused to brush a tendril of hair from my eyes. Then I saw the extra digit.

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She felt the hand move up her back. Surely it was a hand.

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This is lots of fun. It can't be healthy.

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Justice has finally graced us. Although, the whole truth is yet to be revealed.

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The engine's whining stopped. Now the sound of the river could be plainly heard.

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I thought his words spoke truth. I was so very wrong.

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He stood in the darkness, looking up at the stars contemplating the next move he would make. What was that sound?

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He finished writing the final chapter. So how would it all begin?

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Her eloquence swept him off his feet. She was full of shit, of course.

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It wasn't until the Big Mac began snarling into the curdling bowels of his essence that he realized his mistake. Still, to cover the guilt of his gluttony, he went for seconds.

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The wind blew through her hair, reminding her of days gone by. With an effort, she shut the door of the hurricane shelter.

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He brushed her hair aside and grinned. She bared her fangs and snapped.

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So, there you have it: e=mc2. Can I undress you now?

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He pondered his punctuation for a long time. When he looked up she was already gone.

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As the day wore on it grew increasingly hot and sticky. Pepsi doesn't taste good like that.

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She squeezed her father's hand so hard it broke. He never hit her again.

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It smelled like slow death in there. At least, that's what it said in the script.

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Spinning out of control they slammed into a pole. The kid in the green bumper car #4 screamed with joy.

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He greeted everyone politely. Then he taunted them with his vacation plans.

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Shannon regretted the overly broad interpretation of information theory. Rhineheart only regretted the extra serving of ice cream.

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His tongue reached for the ice cream. But it had already fallen through the hammock.

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The peaceful lake stretched out before him like glass. As he sank the cool water closed in around him.

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She scanned the distant purple ridge but saw nothing except its sharp edge against the hard blue sky. A shadow flickered just beyond the river.

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The night was long and the dew gathered on the grass. Then the morning came.

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The cute little bird hopped around at the river bank. The alligator smiled.

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The flowers stretched all the way to the ceiling. It was really hideous wallpaper.

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As she walked, the cool breeze blew through her hair. The gun at her back was all the encouragement she needed to keep walking.

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She was a compact bundle of fun. Her hair really was green.

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The darkness had now, finally, completely enveloped him. He suspected there was more to blinking than this.

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Seeing him with his pants around his ankles, she imagined the worst. He was still in the process of simply getting them on in the first place.

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We could hear children laughing just over the hill. Then, it got dark.