We stand in the yard, mouths agape, eyes wide, trying to find the origin of the piercing cry. The screaming stops as quickly as it began. We move closer together, huddle in a knot, arms intertwined, heads swivelling to and fro, trying to spot something. Anything, really. Trying not to catch one another's eye, lest we see our own fears reflected and then amplified, fear building and running away with us. Minutes feel like hours and then like seconds, folding and unfolding in time with our ragged breath. Just as our grip on one another loosens, the scream comes again.
1 Comment
Sue Clayton
22/4/2024 06:33:33 am
Could be the V2 bombs from WWII
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