Anyway, I hadn't been able to make the YA work at ALL, so I stopped working on it for a while. Then last night I had a dream (kind of a scary one) that inspired me. I hope it's the breakthrough I need. Here's the new opening I came up with thanks to freaky parts of my mind that don't often see the light of day:
When I was thirteen, my brother sold me to a man. It was just the two of us. We needed the money.
After a week I returned home with cuts all over my aching body, and we never spoke of that time.
For three years the memories haunted me, vague and disturbing. I could never tell what was real and what my subconscious had created in dreams. I might have seen living corpses, ambling around in tattered clothes. There might have been faces coming up out of the dirt. A snake slithering through the wet, black earth. And one man orchestrating some sick experiment, his voice low and soothing, like honey.
I thought it a mercy I couldn’t remember that man’s face.
Good? Bad? Intriguing? Thoughts and opinions are welcome and appreciated!