E tenebris lux… light out of darkness
It was always going to be a surreal day – a day spent in limbo, tension stretched to the limit. Trouble had been brewing across the city for days; an ominous mood prevailed everywhere we went. There were growing murmurings of riots due to be breaking out in certain pockets of the population. Local businesses closed early, workers were sent home, parts of London were effectively on lockdown for the duration.
We watched events unfold live on television, safe at home; saw streets we walked every day being vandalised, property being violated. Shop windows shattered and looted, cars turned over and crushed, anarchy in full flow. Fires burned fiercely as pent-up frustration erupted furiously into conflagration while the city crashed and burned on into the night, a cacophony of craziness roaming the streets in search of who knows what, dizzy with destruction, trampling all in its path.
Yet overshadowing all this urban devastation flaring up all around us lay an emotional preoccupation far closer to home – the struggles of my youngest daughter, six hundred miles away, labouring with her first child. And as the heat of that fiery orange night burned out to the smouldering grey ashes of day we watched and waited with bated breath. And when at last the streets were still once more, silent and scarred, the news came. A healthy granddaughter, born safe and well into the beautiful new day, a bright shining beacon of light in the midst of all the surrounding darkness…
Written in response to the DP Weekly Writing Challenge: Foreshadow