The morning is silent. Even the usual distant traffic noise of the rush-hour mayhem is hushed. The busy road that runs through the village no longer channels the speeding cars and lorries that habitually thunder through this small village.
My village is closed to traffic. Vehicles that thought to pass through have become temporary residents, resigned to delay.
A little while ago, there was noise. Sirens blared their warnings in a life-or death dash to reach the scene of the accident. They sounded too many and too close for comfort… and the local radio’s news page confirmed that three cars and at least one lorry had been involved. People are being cut from vehicles and, at this stage, that is all I know.
Except that my family is safe. I called them to make sure… the son who drives that way to work, his partner and my granddaughters who must…
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