Final picnic

The blast of a bomb exploding near the shore didn’t interrupt the family, nor did they listen to the shrill sound of the blitz siren. The children merely played on, laughing at their attempted sand castles while their mother urged them to come back and begin the picnic.

People nearby were leaving, picking up their offspring and abandoning their belongings in favour of finding safety. But the one family stayed, still smiling even as the approaching planes could be heard.

The young children were forced into a hand wipe, removing the well earned sand and dirt collected on their hands during their play. Their mother only laughed as she spread out the blankets, a job usually her partner would do, had he come home.

The carefully prepared sandwiches were passed around while in the background a loud blast was heard. But the family continued eating while the world around them crumbled under the bombs. Nothing would disturb their final picnic.

The sandwiches were finished quickly by eager mouths, while the mother smiled peacefully. The screams of others did not reach her ears as she watched her two cherubs ask for their sweeter food.

No one seemed to notice the small family on the beach in their own world. They had already been lost to history days ago, already a victim to the war.