Write about something that goes: smash.
This evening while emptying out the dish rack ahead of doing the dinner dishes, I was shaking the water off one of our mugs when the handle broke off. It fell into the sink with a bang, landing - and breaking - one of our plates.
When I smash dishes, I don't mess around.
The second hand inched its way around its glass prison once more, unaware that anything unusual would happen when it reached the ornate 12 at the peak of its circuit. Surely, like most of us in the room, it expected to hear a tick, a slight shift by both the minute and hour hands, and nothing more.
Most of us in the room, but not all.
For there were those among us who knew exactly what that final tick would spark. The plan had been discussed at length, fine-tuned until all possible faults had been ironed out. They had their supplies, their weapons on hand.
They were prepared.
When that clock struck midnight, it was smashing time.