We stood in small groups, huddled close to one another, in the forlorn hope that this might help us, and we looked up at the sky. A loud voice echoed from behind the dark clouds that were blocking the sun’s warming rays.
“Oh my children!” it cried, “Why do you ignore me?”
We dropped to our knees, hands clasped together in prayer, eyes fixed on the ground.
“I took away your moon and stars in the hope it would bring you to your senses, but still you anger me. You leave me no choice. Tomorrow I take away your sun.”
We always knew that playing a concert in that war torn country would be a risk. Our group came under fire on the last night as we made our way back to the hotel. I was unlucky. Wrong place at the wrong time. The bullet narrowly missed my neck but buried itself in my ribs. Nothing fatal, but the damage caused was enough to put an untimely end to what was destined to be a glittering career. I now sit in one of the practice rooms. A spare instrument for students to practice on and young children to play with.
He might have loved her once, but God only knows when that could’ve been. The ferocity of the weather had forced them to shelter in this dump of a motel, giving her something else to moan about. He’d snapped sometime around midnight. The constant pounding of the rain, mixed with her high-pitched whining, being more than he could take. He looked down at her now quiet and very still body. He’d call the police in the morning. No need to drag them out on a night like this. For now, he just wanted to savour the peace and quiet.