Rain pelted the ground outside; bolts of lightening light the sky like a giant torch was being flashed on and off. Mr Rodaway was a difficult man to wake, his wife thought that even an earth quake would fail to rouse the silver haired war veteran.
But on this very evening a thunderous knock at the door woke the gentleman from his dreamless slumber. It was a different kind of knock. Desperation motivated it. The man sprang up from within the bed sheets and looked to Mrs Rodaway.
“Stay there while I see who it is,” and with that the man was out of his bed and to the bedroom window that overlooked his vast estate. At the door was a woman. In her arms she held a small bundle, that was so wet it looked like a large sponge.
“Dear, it seems to be a young woman. I will let her in, see if I can help. Would you go and turn on some lights?” Mrs Rodaway had no chance to reply as her husband hurried out of the bedroom, along the hallway, down the stairs and towards the front door. Lights were flashing on behind him.
He started unbolting the door.
A year ago his daughter had been concerned about the safety of her parents and had persuaded them to get all these locks and bolts and even an alarm, which Mr Rodaway had deemed unnecessary because as a child he could leave the front door open without worrying.
“Hello my dear, are you alright?”
The girl took a moment to reply. Mr Rodaway read relief on her face, so he gave her a second to calm down. “My husband was hitting me so I hit him and I think I killed him and I left and took my daughter and I didn’t know what to do and I crashed just up there and…” she trailed off into bursts of crying. He put a steady arm around her shoulder to let her know that she was okay and lead her into the house.
The panelled hallway looked too dark, considering the rest of the house was ablaze. Mrs Rodaway called from the stairs above them “Hun, does the girl need blankets and towels? Perhaps a hot drink to take of the chill?” She immediately hurried herself into preparing the things she had just mentioned, without waiting for any response.
Five minutes later Mrs Rodaway appeared in the room - hands full - were her husband had sat the young woman down and switched on the fire so she could warm herself and her child up. Mrs Rodaway put the drink down next to her and encouraged her to drink it while she wrapped blankets and towels round the young pair. “Excuse me dear, I hope you don’t think me terribly cheeky, but what happened to you?”
They both listened intently to the girl as she told her story (more calmly than before) with unease. Her body shifted frequently and her close set eyes did not make contact with either pair of curious eyes that were on her. For a moment they sat in silence; unsure what to do next.
Bang! Bang!
“Who on earth could that be?” Mr Rodaway asked mostly to himself as he approached the front door for the second time. The door was already unbolted, so he flipped the latch opening the door.
“Don’t move old-timer! Where is she?” Mr Rodaway’s plump cheeks had lost the natural rosy glow as the man held a gun to his forehead insisting that he was lead to “her”.
Both men entered the room and Mrs Rodaway gasped with shock at the sight of her distressed husband, her eyes began to moisten. The girl smiled a wide grin, showing her full set of her pearl white teeth, as she spoke to the man, “You took your time, I had to sit and entertain these two nosy pensioners.”
“Did you find the valuables?”
“Take a look around love, it won’t be difficult to find them here, these two are minted. We should do rich people more often,” with that the trespasser had Mr and Mrs Rodaway on the floor, gagging and tying them up.
The young couple looked at each other and for a moment and kissed each other, with violent passion. They fled the room in search of “special“ valuables. Above Mr and Mrs Rodaway they could hear thuds and bangs and clanks of their lifetime achievements. They were bound to find Mr Rodaway’s war medals that he prided himself on and Mrs Rodaway’s jewellery. They were bound to find everything that was sentimental and dear to them.
30 minutes had gone by and the sound of footsteps were approaching the room. Hand-in-hand the young couple strode into the room looking towards the couple on the floor.
Two piercing shots sounded - echoing through the dull nights sky - prompting an owl, who had been the only witness to the Rodaway’s ordeal, to fly clear of the carnage that would lay still until its discovery. The young couple left the house with a bounce in their step, hands entwined tightly.
Punctuation
) and there are other really interesting ways to set up a scene. Be original, and think about the kind of impact you're trying to make. If it's necessary in your story for their to be darkness, maybe have a power outage because a truck hit the power-lines. Be creative! ^_^
See what I mean? While it might make a better story to do something romantic, it wouldn't be practical.