Not all beer and skittles though

It’s late ish. 11.20pm. The power has just come back on after being off for a day and a night. 

I am upstairs and about 10 minutes ago, opened a window to the cool of the night. I have just heard, from  house a block behind us, the most awful screaming. Like I have never heard before, and I have heard some. Panicked, terrified screaming. Women’s and children’s voices. Calling, ‘Baba! Baba!’  – ‘Father, Father!’. And other words, that I couldn’t make out.

I stood at the window, a voyeur on someone’s terrible pain. I tried to compensate for my inaction by looking for flames – no fire, nothing I could see. Heart attack? Death? I wondered if I should go around. I have before, intervened in people’s anger and pain and violence. Should I here? The answer is obvious.

It stopped. Maybe it was only a few minutes. Did the father wake up? Is everyone ok, or are they just silent. I am relieved of intervening. But I hope I am not relieved too often, or I will soon learn not to hear.


One thought on “Not all beer and skittles though

  1. (Previously posted on the wrong post…sorry)
    Popped in from backyardmissionary because of the “Balloon” photo – the contrasting photos on the linked page spoke volumes! This post also whispered secret pain to my tender heart…..Do you mind if I meander here for a time?

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