The Last Line
The Last Line
A Major Creative Project in Structure, Character, and Imagination
A Major Creative Project in Structure, Character, and Imagination
Edgar Allan Poe famously began many of his stories with the final line in mind—he believed every choice a writer makes should build toward that final moment.
Your challenge is to do the same:
Pick a final line from the list provided and write a story that leads up to it.
This will be your first major creative project, and you’ll be expected to treat it with the depth, detail, and care of a published author.
Use the list provided. This will be the last line of your story—not just a twist, but a destination your plot and characters are slowly steering toward.
🔮 Bonus Challenge: Choose a line at random (roll a die, close your eyes and point, etc.)
You will be required to submit both planning documents and a polished final draft:
✅ Protagonist Character Sheet
Include name, background, personality traits, desires, flaws, and how they might change.
✅ Story Structure Sheet
Choose one of the following frameworks and use it to plan your story arc:
Freytag’s Pyramid
3-Act Structure
The Hero’s Journey
Your story must:
Be a complete narrative with a beginning, middle, and end
Contain a fully developed protagonist with internal and/or external conflict
End with the exact final line you selected from the list
Reflect intentional structure and rising tension toward that ending
Show attention to language, detail, pacing, and voice
✅ Final Line - Selected from teacher-provided list
✅ Character Sheet - Fully completed for your main character
✅ Story Structure - One full outline using Freytag, 3-Act, or Hero’s Journey
✅ Final Draft - 1,000–2,500 words, polished, engaging, structured
✅ Formatting - Typed, double-spaced, titled, name included
✨ Extra Credit Option: Submit a dramatic reading, storyboard, or visual moodboard for your final scene.
And when the candle went out, I finally saw what had been watching me all along.
The town slept soundly, unaware that its savior had buried the wrong body.
He smiled when the knocking began again—three times, just like before.
We told the truth at last, and that was when the screaming started.
Her reflection lingered in the glass long after she turned away.
It wasn’t the silence that frightened me, but what it seemed to be listening for.
They said the sea took her; I only wish that were true.
The house exhaled once, then sank back into the earth, satisfied.
He had waited a hundred years for the door to open—and it wasn’t me who opened it.
When the light returned, every name in the book had changed.
The child’s laughter echoed from the well, clear and new.
She thought she’d escaped, until she found her own handwriting on the final page.
All the graves were empty, except the one marked with my name.
I pressed ‘send,’ and the phone rang from the coffin beneath my feet.
He whispered my secret before I could remember what it was.
It wasn’t the dead who haunted us, but the promises we broke for them.
And as the sun rose, I knew I would not watch it set.
Her heart stopped beating hours ago. Yet, she still answered when I called her name.
They buried the monster at dawn; by dusk, the villagers were gone.
The city sighed as if waking from a dream it could never forget.
I wiped the dust from the mirror, and the child inside did not move.
He said he’d keep me safe, and in a way, he did.
There was no storm that night. Instead, the air was claimed by the sound of wings.
And when the clock struck midnight, I remembered who I used to be.
The door was locked from the inside, but the footprints led out.
He forgave me with his last breath, and I haven’t slept since.
The statue smiled wider than before.
She didn’t look back, because the shadow already had her face.
They called it a miracle until the second child started speaking in her voice.
He said the blood moon would pass, but the color never left the sky.
The prayer ended, and the walls began to breathe again.
My brother’s letter arrived this morning, postmarked ten years after his funeral.
When we tried to turn on the lights again, darkness enveloped them.
She never learned my name, but she carved it on every door.
We built the city on their bones, and now the streets remember.
When they dug me up, I was still holding the key.
He told me to stay inside until the music stopped, but it hasn’t stopped yet.
I thought it was thunder, until I looked outside and saw the clear sky.
She kissed me goodnight, and I smelled the blood on her breath.
The photograph changed again.
They promised eternal life. They didn’t mention whose.
The silence was perfect.
I played the record and it sang with my mother’s voice.
No one believed me when I said the stars were getting closer.
He left me everything: his house, his journals, and the curse that followed.
At dawn, the fog cleared and I finally saw what we’d been praying to.
They found the cure buried with the first one who needed it.
That's when the laughter stopped.
He said the house would protect those that owned it. But, it was never ours.
And somewhere beneath the floorboards, the lullaby kept playing.