Last night I drove home in the midst of a lightning storm. No rain, and very little thunder, but the sky was a heavy mantel of black. White lightning streaked across the sky, renting the fabric in a thousand places.
It is hard to watch in awe while trying to keep one's car out of the ditch, but it inspired a bit of rather rubbish fiction:

Tara sat on the trundle bed. The copper frame groaned under her weight. She looked around at layers of dust that hid ancient treasures. The trundle bed belonged to her great-grandmother, as did the house whose attic she was sitting in. Tucked into the corners of this room were bits and pieces of her life. Like the attic, her past was hidden in dust; she liked it that way and had every intention of keeping it so.
Her curiosity got the better of her, and she stood up and crossed over to the opposite side of the room. Kneeling, she ran her hand over a small, wooden cradle. She had slept in this when she was a baby, as did her mother, and her grandmother, and her great-grandmother before her. It had watched her family grow old, and the next generation rise up and take their place. This cradle was the greatest link she had to her past. Funny how she had no memory of lying in it.
A mannequin stood in the corner by the door, like a silent watchman over her memories. A faded, yellowed dress hung limply from its stuffed body, and a tattered veil draped over the faceless head. Faceless, like so many of her family. They were a bunch of names without faces - dead. Nothing could make them live again, not even her memories.
Her mother had walked down the aisle in that dress, her face beaming with joy as she dreamed of the wonderful future in store for her. But life wasn't made out of roses; it came with thorns that tore at your fingertips and made you bleed. Tara had watched her mother bleed to death as life heaped sorrow upon sorrow and turned her dreams to dust.
Tara turned away from that painful memory. She hadn't traveled 800 miles to feel the pain she felt every day. She'd come to lose herself. Perhaps then she would find herself.

So, that is it for now. I will add more as I feel inspired. I'm already toying with ideas, so we'll have to see where this goes.
I'd appreciate your input also, so if you want to ask questions, make a point, or tell me everything that is wrong with this story, feel free to comment.