by The Dreamer
Every day for the past few months, the Black Knights fly past my house with a deafening roar that drowns out all activity and its commanding engine petrifies all living things into subservience. At least, that is the case for me. I can never get used to its monstrous growl, and every single day at 5.30 when I hear the faint echo of the Black Knights in the distance, my goosebumps start to appear and my body freezes up as I brace myself for the imminent ear-shattering noise that follows. I almost feel helpless; my sister and I try to communicate over the roar sometimes, but our voices are overpowered.
And I can’t help but wonder if the same fear gripped my great-grandmother decades ago when she was 17 like me. If the deafening roars of war planes sends shivers down her spine. If she perks her ears to make out the faint echo of these planes in the distance so that she can drop everything and run. If they still remind her of impending bombs and shattered homes, the loss of loved ones and the desolation that follows. If they trigger the feeling of helplessness as her screams are drowned by the abhorrent engines and vile foreign voices that force her to surrender to obedience.