And Then The Murders Began ... Opening Line Game

In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.

And Then The Murders Began'

Madeline

Where's Papa going with that axe?" said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast.

And Then The Murders Began

Charlotte's Web

When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen.

And Then The Murders Began.

The Secret Garden

When he woke up on May 1, 2007, Kevin Rose had no idea he was about to have the most interesting day of his life, courtesy of an uprising of his own customers. And then the murders began ...

- Groundswell, by Charlene Li and Josh Bernoff
(it's a classic social media marketing text)

Under certain circumstances there are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea.

And then the murders began.

The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James.

Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

And Then The Murders Began

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette.

And Then The Murders Began.

The Princess Bride

Once upon a time, a little girl named Laura traveled in a covered wagon across the giant prairie.

And Then The Murders Began.

Little House on the Prairie

There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid.

And Then The Murders Began.

The Velveteen Rabbit

Nancy Drew, an attractive girl of eighteen, was driving home along a country road in her new, dark-blue convertible.

And Then The Murders Began.

Nancy Drew: The Secret of the Old Clock

“I had been making the rounds of the Sacrifice Poles the day we heard my brother had escaped. I already knew something was going to happen; the Factory told me.”

And Then The Murders Began

But they do, they really do.

I almost remember that book. I do remember the name. Nancy Drew may have gotten me started on mysteries, exploration, etc. Also, the public library.
Going into the new library door, decades later, where I hit my head on the glass door, shown around by childhood friend, we crossed the street and then the murders began.

I miss the old library; we left Evanston in the mid fifties, so, other libraries, other places, but it was weird to see this glassy new place on my later visit, never mind the head and glass banging.

sorry for departure from the mode. I experienced a raft of nostalgia.
And then the murders began.

It was raining hard in 'Frisco,
I needed one more fare to make my night.
A lady up ahead waved to flag me down,
She got in at the light.

And then the murders began

Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo...
And then the killing began. . .

Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

Kevin Rose, the founder of Digg.com? Huh....

It was four o'clock when the ceremony was over and the carriages began to arrive. And then the murders began....
The Jungle by Upton Sinclair.

This morning at the corner of Friedrickstrasse and Jagerstrasse, I saw two men, SA men, unscrewing a red Der Sturmer showcase from the wall of a building.

And then the murders began.

March Violets Philip Kerr, (the first Bernie Gunther novel,) I just love Bernie.

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness. And then the murders began.

Edward Bulwer-Lytton in his 1830 novel Paul Clifford.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. And then the murders began...

A tale of two cities - Charles Dickens