1. Narrative Beginnings Notice: First Lines – Spoken or not? Intriguing?
Following lines:
Begins to explain that mysterious opening line by answering who, what, when, or where.
Often quite descriptive. Sets the tone for the piece and introduces a pivotal detail or details of the story.
The topic/focus of the story should be somewhat evident.

2. When Grandmama died at eighty-three our whole household held its breath. She had promised us a sign of her leaving, final proof that her present life had ended well. My parents knew that without any clear sign, our own family fortunes could be altered, threatened. My stepmother looked endlessly into the small cluttered room the ancient lady had occupied. Nothing was touched; nothing changed. My father, thinking that a sign should appear in Grandmama’s garden, looked at the frost-killed shoots and cringed: no, that could not be it. My two older teenage brothers and my sister, Liang, age fourteen, were embarrassed by my parents’ behaviour. What would all the white people in Vancouver think of us? We were Canadians now, Chinese-Canadians, a hyphenated reality that my parents could never accept. So it seemed for different reasons, we all held our breath waiting for something.

3. “Nerd, Geek. ” Sandy was tired of not fitting in. Monday morning
“Nerd, Geek!” Sandy was tired of not fitting in. Monday morning. Dressed in black, belly button exposed, and wearing a sneer, she approached the cool kids. Her body tensed. Her steps faltered. “Hey man,” she said uncertainly. “What’s up?” They turned and smiled. Acceptance! She’s in.

4. The boy lay bleeding in the rain
The boy lay bleeding in the rain. He was sixteen years old, and he wore a bright purple silk jacket, and the lettering across the back of the jacked read THE ROYALS. The boy’s name was Andy, and the name was delicately scripted in black thread on the front of the jacket, just over the heart. Andy.
He had been stabbed ten minutes ago. The knife had entered just below his rib cage and had been drawn across his body violently, tearing a wide gap in his flesh. He lay on the sidewalk with the March rain drilling his jacket and drilling his body and washing away the blood that poured from his open wound. He had heard the voice saying, That’s for you, Royal!” and then the sound of footsteps hurrying in to the rain, and then he had fallen to the sidewalk, clutching his stomach, trying to stop the flow of blood.