First Lines

Most of B. M.'s days consisted of eating, drooling over musicians with disturbingly greasy hair and planning an escape from what The Outsiders (she always pictured it with a capital letter, knowing they could never understand what was really happening there) called a mental institution.
 
The grey shadow of a man holding a long knife was cast onto the wall in front of me, although I knew that I was the only one in the room.
 
Gryndel staggered to his feet, scrapping earth and leaf litter from his cloak as he did so, before sparing a moment to gaze regretfully at the carcass of the horse that had borne him so well for over 100 leagues in his desperate flight from Tal and the Emperor's hunters.
 
Thrusting my sword into his stomach I felt it bounce of of his ribs. Pulling it free i wiped it clean smiling as he fell to the muddy ground. The blood grew as the life drained out of him. My counterpart shivered. "He deserved it." I said plainly. "Now come on girl."
 
Would I trully live again if I possesed this man or would that life yet cling to his shell, the differences between his past and future conduct attributed to some odd defect of his personality?
 
The ground beneath my feet cracked ominously, as though I was standing on a very thin layer of ice, and I looked down just in time to see the earth swallow me up.
 
"Lieutenant: what have you done?"

As the black fog drained away from the edges of my mind, I dropped the hammer and looked around; first at the horrified face of my sergeant, mirrored oddly by those of the rest of the platoon crowding into the engine-room; then at the smashed injection nozzles of the main hyperdrive.
 
Humphrey took another look from the top of the spiralling staircase, as if trying to grasp all the memories attached to the old apartment; soon his memory would blank.
 

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