Hidden dawn

Thick cloying dust hung in the air, illuminated in gasps by the light from the raging fires all around.

Huddled beneath the portico of a shattered government building, Thomas released his grip on the hand of the woman he’d met there moments before the bombs started falling. Perhaps concussion had killed her.

He looked up, watched the searchlights finger the boiling air searching for the bombers. Above him the unseeing eyes of a carved figure stared sightless at the night. Thomas longed to be like that, blind to the horrors of that September night of 1940. Longed for peace again.

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1 Response to Hidden dawn

  1. Dear Kelly,

    Very visual. You put me there…although I did have to Google to figure out where “there” was. Nice one.

    shalom,

    Rochelle

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