THE PREY OF THE TERRIBLE
(Isaiah 49:25) 

By Tessa Harvey




    Sylvie fought hard against the encroaching darkness. She did not want to go where it was dark and cold. She reached out in her spirit towards warmth and light. The truck's lights had dazzled her. She had swerved and gone over a small embankment. Trees had loomed near the car. Somehow she had missed them. The woman wanted to call out for her children, trying to get up to find them.
    She felt tethered down and trapped. She tried again to call, but something was caught in her throat. Panic flared.
    "Sylvie, Miss O'Toole, be still.  You are in hospital. Your children are nearby. You cannot talk. You are on a ventilator just for now. Look at me if you hear me."
    Slowly the woman turned towards the senior nurse. Sylvie's eyes were dark and frightened. The nurse was relieved.
    A head trauma could be much worse. "Your little boy is calling for you, and his sister and a rabbit. Is it a toy left in the car? Bend your right fingers if so. It will help him to settle. There's a constable on duty."

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