The Lake Of No Importance

I know it's been a while, but I swore I wouldn't do what I always do and start this without finishing it. So, new post. Huzzah!

Speaking of starting things and never finishing them; I wrote this beginning of something ages ago, and I still have absolutely no idea what to do with it next. Therefore, internet, NOW IS YOUR TIME. I need help...

The rain falls down in sheets of steel on the Lake of No Importance. Thin, grey clouds scurry across the skies, trying to escape as they are replaced with huge, rolling, thunder-bearing versions of themselves. The willow trees creak as they bend to breaking point in the biting wind. And cowering under them is a small boy, violet eyes wide with terror and a dark halo of hair framing a pale, tear-stained face.

I have no more. You get a pickature though. Completely unrelated, of course - just a sketchy self-portrait.