Write a paragraph of the very first thing that comes to your mind. No pausing to think, no perfect crafting, just write. One paragraph. Go.
The night was biting a viscous cold that gripped my chest as I breathed in and revealed my breath as I breathed out. I was surrounded by familiar streets but the pure white veneer of snow gave it a ghostly, surreal quality as I walked. I could hear the satisfying crunch of fresh snow under my feet but took no comfort in it that night. The glaring white blanket was not the only change to my oft trodden route. I could feel a heavy, foreboding presence as I walked that made me want to quicken my steps. I used crossing the street to hide my real intention as I looked about me, trying to discern the route of my unease. I could see nothing but the gleaming white snow covering the houses, gardens, pavement and road. I could see my footprints, showing the path I had taken through the night. The perfect, untouched snow before me and the footprints behind me. Two sets of footprints, not one. I had been the first to walk this way but apparently, not alone. I shuddered, from the cold I told myself but in truth it was a new cold; a deep fear gripping me tighter than the cold ever could.