“There was a pause in time as Frank’s erratic turn of the wheel propelled him into the path of the bag-lady carting what could only be described as a black garbage bag of bent, crushed, or otherwise impacted aluminum cans, during which a vision flashed before Frank’s eyes of his mother, whom he had struck some years before in a similar drug-fueled vehicular rampage through the farmer’s market.”
That’s my entry into the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest., which encourages writers to submit their worst opening sentence to an imaginary worst novel ever. Give it a shot.