Woman (Eva Lindquist)

As my sons and I are walking home, we pass near the Champ de Mars. A crowd- nay, a mob- gathers there. It is still, but restlessly so. They are waiting outside the prison, waiting for some signal. We duck our heads and hurry by. None of us want to be caught in the violence of the crowd when the tension breaks. We reach the outer edges of the gathering-almost there!-when the shouting starts. The mob crushes its way forwards. I dare not look back. Staring ahead, I see still more people, fevered with revolutionary spirit, racing to join the "fun". I notice some are carrying rocks and I shudder. Screams of the trapped prisoners herald the inevitable. The fighting is just beginning. I do not know where it will end. I only hope my family survives.