She was going to die because of the weather. She sat in the lounge, looking out the window at the aquamarine blue snowflakes sliding down the bubble. The weather meant no flights. No escape. No chance. They would track her soon enough to the town, and why would a refugee run to a transit town so small it only had two bars and no church? A one-horse town, it would have been called in the state she grew up in. The only reason was the small port. It wasn't a regular human transit port, just a general workhorse of a shipping depot, hauling things in from offworld and shipping intraworld and transshipping those few luxuries expensive enough to make it worthwhile. That's why she'd chosen it. It hadn't seemed like it would be their first choice of a place to hunt for a girl looking for a flight off-planet. It wasn't even listed in most directories, simply because usually human cargo wasn't taken on. It could be, though.


Inspiration: A snowy day, my husband refusing to go anywhere.
Story potential: High.
Notes: So she doesn't go anywhere. She stays right there--somehow. Gains an invisible job? Hides out among the machines? Something. And then plot ensues.

It was somewhere around Nothing Point where we started having the engine troubles, and that was--well, not quite as bad as it could get, but plenty bad enough. Nothing Point was so called because there was nothing else around, but at least there was the Point. Mechanics, food suppliers, some of the shady or desperate traders. You could get your ship fixed there, if you limped in, if you had the coin to trade, and if you were smart and well-armed enough to keep somebody else from stealing it for scrap. It was that sort of place. And if you lost your ship, you couldn't go wailing to the authorities, or even your insurance company, for that matter. It was gone and you were stuck. That's if you were lucky, and they were merciful.

Inspiration: "Somewhere Around Nothing" - Apocalyptica
Story Potential: Medium
Notes: I like the setting. Could be fun. Nothing super-original here, though.

Being sick gave her an excuse to stay in and avoid the ceremony. It wasn't a lie, either; she'd caught radiation sickness working in the old ship, back before they even really understood all the different ways that radiation could creep inside and poison the bones of people. Despite that, she'd loved working on the old ship, and she'd never held a grudge. That was why she didn't want to see it decommissioned. She'd loved that ship, and her best days had been spent upon it. It wasn't time for the ship to go--somehow, it felt like she'd been marked as obsolete too. And maybe she had, she thought, looking around her at the stateroom that she had all her worldly belongings in. It was about as small as a captain's stateroom on board the old ship; that was to say, ridiculous--

Inspiration: Being sick. Pheh.
Story Potential: Medium
Notes: Not 'zactly an unused beginning, but not one that's been done to death, either. It's really just the opening--what comes after is what makes it stand out.