The opening line of a short story, no more than a hundred words in length....here's mine.
Suddenly the back door flew open. Rain and leaves began to cover the kitchen floor. Somewhere in the house I heard breaking glass as doors slammed. Then the lights suddenly went out, and the wall clock fell to the floor, smashing into pieces. In the confusion I accidentally poured boiling water over my hand instead of into the teapot, and as I jumped back I cursed the fact I was barefoot as I cut myself on a shard of glass. In the doorway stood a wizened old woman wrapped in an army greatcoat. 'Lucky heather dearie?' she asked.