The aroma of roasted almonds and cinnamon hung heavy in the air, a comforting blanket against the crisp December chill. Ingrid, her face flushed from the mulled wine, navigated the throng of people at the Magdeburg Christmas market. Friday nights were her treat, a small indulgence after a long week at the sewing factory.
Until recently, Christmas had held a bittersweet tinge for her. It was on one of these very nights, years ago, that she’d met her ex-husband. The memories, once sharp and painful, had dulled over time. Piecework at the factory kept her busy, her hands constantly moving, leaving little room for sentimentality. Besides, her son, Max, a whirlwind of energy and soccer dreams, filled her life with joy. He was a true help around the house, a little man with a mop and a surprisingly good eye for dusting.
Her gaze drifted over the glittering array of stalls: handcrafted wooden toys, intricately woven scarves, and mountains of gingerbread cookies. Max would love a large chocolate Santa Claus. A smile touched her lips as she imagined his delighted face. She started walking towards the town hall, where she remembered seeing a stall known for its affordable treats.
Suddenly, a scream pierced the festive air. Ingrid turned, her heart pounding. Then, a deafening roar, a blur of motion, and the world exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors and pain.
She woke up disoriented, the smell of pine needles and something metallic filling her nostrils. The festive music had been replaced by the wail of sirens. Fear, cold and clammy, gripped her. Where was Max? Had she… had she seen the car? The images from the news reports flashed through her mind: the panicked faces, the overturned stalls, the shattered glass.
Ingrid tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness washing over her. The world swam before her eyes. She was lying on a makeshift bed, blankets piled high, surrounded by the injured. The air thrummed with the sound of frantic voices, the cries of the wounded.
Where was Max? The question echoed in her mind, a desperate plea. She had to find him. She had to…
All names of people and organizations appearing in this story are pseudonyms.
Two killed and scores injured in Germany as car ploughs into crowd at Christmas market
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