IRA Attack

The beam of white light that penetrated the atmosphere brought

everyone and everything to a halt. A thunderous noise that seemed to

shatter the eardrum ripped through the sky. The aftershock of the

explosion had knocked most people off their feet. Consequently chaos

followed, but it had not always been this way. Docklands had been a

peaceful place. The early stages of development had begun in the areas

surrounding the docks, but it still possessed the tranquillity that

was appreciated by the residents. Famous for its innovation and

stature, Canary Wharf stood proud and firm. Never was it predicted

that its foundations would quaver.

Laura ran her fingers through her hair. Startled, she felt water

trickling down her scalp. She dropped her hand to her lap, surprised

as red smeared across her leg. The white linen of her trousers changed

into a clear blue denim and she unwillingly felt herself drift into a

painful memory. The patch of blood was now much larger and the pain

had shifted to her left thigh. She peered at the children's bike that

lay crooked on the pavement. Tears filled her eyes but she hastily

controlled herself. She did not desire comfort or any nature of

attention. She was a nervous child and believed herself too

insignificant to concern individuals with her problems. Despite

people's comments on her sweet personality and cheery composure, she

knew they thought her odd. No one could identify with her and the

thought of it drew a lump in her throat. Things were no different now;

she was still the same little girl. Painfully returning to reality she

noticed that the blood, which covered her palm, intensified and seemed

...

... middle of paper ...

...any potential help.

Laura gazed as the fair-haired man staggered down the road away from

her. Again she was lying on the floor, too weak to move. She prayed a

desperate prayer that the man would see her, but she could feel

unconsciousness looming. The weight on her eyelids became unbearable

and she could no longer resist the pressure. As they unwillingly

sealed, she listened to the sound of approaching sirens.

The high clatter of metal upon metal drew her from her sleep. The

interior of an ambulance van materialized around her and with a sigh

of relief she acknowledged that she had been found. She glanced to her

left and was glad to recognise the white-haired man. She muttered

something but received no response. A dreary paramedic approached his

bed and with an overcast expression, drew a black sheet over his head.