New beginnings

In Competition No. 3008 you were invited to take the last line of a well-known novel and make it the first line of a short story written in the style of the author in question.
 
There’s room only for me to lament the lack of space for more winners; the judging process was especially painful and protracted this time around. Those that made the final cut appear below and earn £25 each.
 

A way a lone a last a loved a long the bookmaster Jimjoist rolled a virgil sheet from the toplady of a freshly complete queer of peeper into his tripewriter thinking. Aha, my last leaves were sex hundred and twenty-to-eight of the lost left texticle of Finnegan and his atrophied un-apostrophied Wake, selling to the plebiscite not a pennyeach no no but many squid a croppy and hardbound into the burgeon. Come, forethought he, my beloved rubbisher Fable and Feeble and hear you have another only virginally less waiting tomb to piddle.