When danger raps on your door, will you answer—or pretend you’re not home?
First Line:
The knock came like the sound of a jackhammer—loud, sharp, and carrying the promise of trouble.
Starting Paragraph:
It was 2:17 a.m. when the pounding started. Three hard raps, a pause, then two more, each one rattling the thin wood like a judge’s gavel in a case that had already been decided. I froze mid-step, coffee mug halfway to my lips, the bitter steam curling into my face like a warning. The streetlight outside cast a crooked shadow across my door, and in that warped silhouette, I thought I saw a fedora tilt forward—old-school, like something out of a black-and-white movie where no one smiles. My heartbeat was a snare drum in my ears. I wasn’t expecting anyone. In fact, nobody should even know I was here. My eyes flicked to the drawer by the sink. Inside was a loaded choice: a .38 revolver wrapped in a dishtowel… or my phone. Neither option promised safety. The knock came again—slower this time, almost polite.
Three Questions to Spark the Story:
- Who is on the other side of the door—and what do they want?
- What is the secret the narrator is hiding?
- How will the choice between the revolver and the phone change the outcome?