Pop pop pop.
Fear grabs us, holds us in jagged teeth, shakes us. Some sprint away. Terror written on their faces.
Eerie quiet. Unimaginable noise. Time elastic: simultaneously stretched and compressed. Bodies. Screaming.
More pop pop pop sounds assault the shocked air.
My children. Where are they? We were holding hands. Walking to have ice-cream. A holiday treat. I feel then their terrified clutch.
I see them both. Lying sprawled as if in their beds. But in a splatter of slippery red. I drop.