The Writers' Circle

It was still light outside when the sirens started, the children were still laughing, the mothers still chatting, the fathers still working. It was that time in suburbia when the world seemed finally to be fitting into place. Everyone was doing as they should be, nothing was out of place. Dinners were in the ovens ready for family supper, beds were made ready to be slept in, clothes were washed ready for school and suits pressed ready for the office. The large parade of wailing vehicles caused quite a stir amongst the residents of Warsam Lane; heads came out of gardens, windows, and cars to see exactly what had happened. It wasn't so much they all had nothing better to do or that they were nosey it was more the fact it was a highly unusual occurrence.