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.

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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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