Memories came crashing into her consciousness like a baseball bat slamming into her head. 

The candle sputtered and died, plunging the room into darkness.

The bombing only steeled their reserve.

The whiskey burned, but not half as much as the memories.

They unhurriedly bore the litter down the mountain, the man's arms dragging the ground as they descended. 

Literal to a fault Larry crawled into the cramped accommodations meant for his dog after his wife locked him out of the house.

The grackles groused about the finches.