The Siren Song

Living a few hundred yards, as the crow flies, from a fire station isn’t something you think about, most of the time. During the day, the hum of traffic both near and distant, combined with the general background hubbub of the daytime that you never truly hear, but notice strongly by its absence as night falls, make it something that barely registers on your conscious mind.

In the deepest pit of the night, this changes. Your slumber is never truly deep, as the bell that fire stations once favoured has been replaced with a klaxon. Sleep is broken by that muffled, yet insistent wail… woooOOOOP-woooOOOOP-woooOOOOP. I wake, curse the klaxon and sulk for a few seconds, before remembering that the klaxon’s wail means that someone, somewhere, is in trouble; to hear the klaxon is to hear the sound of help departing for those unfortunates.

I roll over, damning myself as an inconsiderate, stone-hearted, bastard. I close my eyes again and fall back into the arms of Morpheus, embracing his transcendent kiss, lulled back to sleep by the gentling song of the passing fire engine.

weeeOOOOP
.
.
.
Weeep-Weeep-Weeep
.
.
.
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!

One response to “The Siren Song

  1. You unconscionable scoundrel!

    Having said that, I live right off a main road, and hear police, ambulances and fire engines going past several times a day. As long as I lived here, I’ve never given a seconds thought to the emergencies they might be going to…

    Ah well, most of them are probably alright in the end.

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