Mysteries that He tells me to write for all His people.

Opening Lines

"My mama told me there'd be days like this" didn't even come close, I bet "Mama" never found a body first thing in the morning.

"I didn't meant to kill her. Honest. Well, okay, it was accidentally on purpose."

I couldn't tell if the loud bang I'd just heard was a car backfiring or a gun shot.

The darkness outside matched the darkness I felt inside; the dread of realizing that in a few short hours, I would come face to face with her again. 

My scissors were buried in his throat up to their green fingerholes.

As I was wading in the ocean, a wave slammed into the beach more violently than all the others before it. This one carried a body with a hole in its forehead.

When her apartment was broken into, nothing taken, everything destroyed, she knew someone was looking for something. But what?

Her heels sounded like small firecrackers as they came across the dirty concrete floor.

Gramma changed the channel as 9-year-old Bobby watched his favorite show. He wondered what it would be like to have an uzi and blow her away.

As I sat on the dock, a gentle breeze caressing my cheek, a body floated by.

All I wanted was a quiet moment with Jesus, and all I got was the sound of sirens blaring.

Something smelled awful as I realized my bare feet were wet. I should never have looked down at my feet. That much blood coming from under the door is never a good sign.

Cold like a mannequin and caked with blood like a child's jeans after a day exploring the nearest creek bed was not the normal state of being for her husband.

In the park, I'd been blowing the fluff off of dandelions all morning. That's why the corpse I found looked like it was in a cocoon.

I realized that there was a piece of paper sticking out of the corpse's mouth--and there was no way I was about to stick my hand in there and get it.

The indentation in her car's grille matched perfectly with the indentation in the corpse's head.

Tomato juice in her glass at breakfast the next morning reminded her too much of the body she'd found the night before.

If one more person tells me that blood smells like iron (because I have no idea what iron smells like and have no desire to go about sniffing railings on houses), I'm gonna scream or hurl, whichever attracts the most attention.

Standing before the door to the execution chamber, reporter Karen Anderson tried not to look at her innocent good friend as she was being dragged/carried into the chamber.

I couldn't remember if I was supposed to put the baby down on his back or stomach, so I put him on his side and hoped for the best.

The sound of a tree falling on my roof is right up there with the gurgle of someone drowning in his own blood as sounds I never want to hear again.

It was the biggest story since 9-11.

When the blood-caked shoe washed up on the beach, I couldn't help thinking that it was my Mother's size but definately not her style.


Materialism aside, I thought it a shame that the owner of the chicest mall in town was killed in his own food court, strangled by a lasagne noodle from the lousiest Italian restaurant I'd ever eaten in.

When the news came, Juliana was too busy lining up red M&Ms to use as ammo when shot from rubberbands to pay any attention.

Seaweed wrapped around one's ankle as one waded down the beach, sandals tightly in hand, was gross enough, but what washed up and had my ankle was positively disgusting!

The darkness of night could either be described as the largest Snuggie in the world or as the largest ski mask in the world, depending on which side of what happened next you were on.

After being in the house for just twenty short minutes, I found myself wondering "How could anybody live like this?"

Being rendered unconscious is never a good thing first thing in the morning.

When Susan glanced out of the window in her bedroom, eyes shone back at her out of the velvet blackness of the night.

To call my life crazy at the moment would have been the understatement of the century!



"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times"?  Who the Dickens starts a novel like that?

I couldn't help thinking how done with winter I was and then I stepped out of my front door and onto the driveway to get into my car.  I hit an icy patch and slid completely under my car. I had never been under a car before and couldn't believe what I found under there.

I walked along in the state park, taking pictures of the autumn hues, when I stumbled (literally) over a hand sticking up from a shallow grave. I hope my fall didn't break my camera.

Easter morning dawned with a beautiful sunrise--like when Jesus rose again?--the only thing that didn't rise that day was my husband. 

I was stumped.  I didn't know what to write between "once upon a time' and "...happily ever after".

When fishing off the pier, I reeled in more than an old boot or seaweed.

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