She heard the sound that tore through the air and in terror she unconsciously raised her eyes to the sky. She saw the iron bird fluttering in the distance and an invisible fear gripped her heart. However, it was impossible for her to take her eyes off the giant bird that in a split second found itself above her house, opened its abdomen and dropped a massive metal egg which began to fall with a chilling hiss and burst with a thud on the neighboring apartment building ˙ it was followed by a systematic jolt and successive explosions. In terror she curled up in a corner of the room, curled her thin arms around her knees and buried her head between them, as she heard glass shattering and people screaming, while thick smoke threatened to take her breath away. A hand grabbed her, dragged her out of the apartment and limping up the stairs led her out into the street. All around shapeless objects that were on fire, bodies full of blood and smeared clothes, hands raised to nowhere and mouths spewing curses and curses. And her, sitting on the sidewalk next to piles of stones and broken glass, not knowing what might happen in the next moment, eyes red, staring at a black hole in the pavement.
She survived, survived, learned to live with loss, licked the wounds of her soul until they healed and stood on her own two feet, but never in her afterlife did she touch or break an egg. He always had the feeling that something painful would spring from his bowels.
photo congerdesign / https://pixabay.com
