"He yanked himself free and fled to the kitchen where something huddled against the flooded windowpanes. It sighed and wept and tapped continually, and suddenly he was outside, staring in, the rain beating, the wind chilling him, and all the candle darkness inside lost."
Remember: the plot is nothing more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations. — Ray Bradbury
