A moderate incline runs towards the foot of Maybury Hill, & down this we clattered. Once the lightning had begun, it went on in as rapid a succession of flashes as I have ever seen. The thunderclaps, treading one on the heels of another & with a strange accompaniment, sounded more like the working of a gigantic electric machine than the usual detonating reverberations. The flickering light was blinding & confusing, & a thin hail smote gustily at my face as I drove down the slope.
H G Wells, The War of the Worlds.
I love nineteenth century science fiction. This sets the tone so well.
