On a Night Such as This

All around was stillness, the language of winter. The wind whirled and drove the snow like daggers into the soft belly of the night. There were no stars, no moon, just the faraway hint of a dirty mauve sky. And then, out of the darkness, a knock came on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Are you scared yet? I am. I am scaring myself. This is that kind of winter night, blustery and eerie, a night for haints to walk, which I sincerely hope they don't. At least, not here. If I see any haints, I will direct them to the nearest shopping center for some mall-walking. At this point in the story, a mysterious, lean figure with a cape shielding his face would appear at the farmhouse door.

He would warm himself by the fire, if he were willing to go out to the woodshed and schlep wood, and deal with a possible rodent living in the fireplace, and then he would tell a mysterious tale of a maiden's death yet to be avenged, or some other wrong still unrighted. And then he would ask to borrow the toenail clippers--I am still working this part out--and only upon his leaving would the unsuspecting farmer's wife discover a wolf's claw stuck in the nail scissors!!

I know that the "mysterious stranger is really a wolf" thing has already been done in Ladyhawke but I feel it has rich and as yet untapped dramatic potential.

But wait, what was that? Could it have been....a knock on the door?