This is my story so far. It's by no means finished, but I think it could do with critting etc. Crit for crit, if ya want it. Just provide a link

Malicious thunder rips through the sky. Fierce, burning lightning tears through the clouds, torching the ground. A surge of flame burns through my body, toe to head, head to toe, time after time.
I wake up. The room is dark, I can’t see. Fumbling to my right, I switch on the lamp. The light burns my eyes, and I cover them quickly. Slowly, I open them again.
Everything seems normal. My bed is dead centre in the room. My curtains are together, my windows closed. I check the clock – six fifteen am. Early in the morning, but I can’t get back to sleep.
I take off my t-shirt, leaving me in my boxers and walk to the bathroom. The ceiling looked as high as the heavens in my lethargy, the wood flooring like one giant tree. I shower quickly, the water seeming like oversized tears, switching between scalding and freezing on my back.
Not wanting to stay in the same place for too long, I dry off and hurry back to my bedroom. I’m still freaked by my dream. The duvet is on the floor. I’m an odd sleeper; I wriggle: a lot. I put my pillows straight and square up my duvet. I get dressed, choosing my favoured dark denim jeans and a tight black t-shirt, which shows off my well cut shoulders.
The shadow of sleep, and my dream, still hung over me. Walking down the stairs, I saw shadows creeping up the walls, and I dared not turn on a light, lest something be there.
I look at the mirror in my hallway. The light wood seems cold in this half-light of the morning, and I stare grimly into my grey-blue eyes. I like to do this. I feel like I can see inside myself, see what’s really behind this hard, rough exterior.
Next, I study my shoulders. The t-shirt allows the muscles to fade through, and makes me glad I took that gym session every Friday after school at the leisure centre, using the weights to build up my thigh muscles and my biceps. More recently, I’ve stopped the gym, but I swim instead, preferring the feel of the cold water as I plunge through it, length after length, the sense of control when I dive, and stay at the bottom of the pool, and come up after five minutes.
I blink, and bring myself back to reality. The man in the mirror looked like he was sleeping, and I suddenly realised it was myself.
I walk slowly into my kitchen, feeling the coldness of the black and white tiled floor on my bare feet. I look through the glass door at the garden; austere and glacial in the winter, mysterious in the moonlight. Something seems out of place.
I open the back door. The frosty air kills any remnants of my dream. My head clears.

Corpses are strewn across my lawn. Blood seeps into the frost-bitten grass.
Last edited by TheShadow at Mar 13, 2007,
Cheers. I'll probably be writing quite a bit more by/in the Easter holidays (three weeks away [including this week] and three weeks long). Hopefully I'll have written more in the next week or so, though.