Every month a parade would pass through my hometown, but we weren't allowed to look at it

I don’t want this to seem like another “small town with a weird secret” story, because that’s not what this is. My old hometown is a perfectly normal place; it has a McDonalds, a Walmart and even a couple ofایه houses. It’s just that once a month a parade would pass through it, and we weren’t allowed to look.<br><br>It started when I was around ten years old, and continued for three years. The first time it happened, I was at school when they announced it over the tannoy. All the windows had to be closed and covered with newspaper, and we weren’t allowed outside for the rest of the morning. At first we all just assumed that it was an earthquake drill or something, but when we started asking the teacher questions, it became obvious that they weren’t allowed to tell us what was going on. <br><br>“I can’t tell you that,” she said. “But what I *can* tell you is that it’s not safe to look outside right now.”<br><br>I was pretty annoyed by this. How could looking at something be unsafe? What could possibly be going on out there that someone just *looking* could cause them harm? And more pressingly, what was this “it” she kept referring to? None of us had a clue what was happening, but we all knew that it had something to do with the parade. I couldn’t even tell you how we knew that. I think maybe the announcement said something about it, or maybe the teachers let something slip. All I know is that from that moment on, any time this happened, we called it the Parade. <br><br>Over the next few weeks, the parade became a sort of enigma to my classmates and I. The fact that we weren’t allowed to look at it only made us more curious, and soon enough, we were determined to find out what was going on. We spent most lessons making plans to get a look at the Parade. It was always guaranteed to be the main topic of conversation at break time, and we even made bets as to what would happen if someone accidentally saw it.<br><br>But despite all our bravado, none of us ever actually had the nerve to look.<br><br>The next time the Parade happened, it was a Sunday. I remember because I was staying with my sister, and her boyfriend made a big fuss about closing all the curtains and blinds. He seemed particularly nervous, pacing around the room and glancing at his watch every few minutes. <br><br>“What’s going to happen if I look outside?” I said. Even then, I don’t know why I was so curious. Maybe it was because I thought the worst that would happen was that I’d be grounded, or maybe I just enjoyed the feeling of doing something I shouldn’t. Either way, I knew that I was going to try and get a look at the Parade, and I wasn’t going to let anything stop me.<br><br>“You’ll go blind,” said my sister. “Permanently.”<br><br>“Bullshit,” I said. “That’s not true.”<br><br>“It’s true,” said my boyfriend. “I saw it happen to my neighbour.”<br><br>“I thought you said you weren’t going to look,” I said.<br><br>“I didn’t. I saw it happen through a window.”<br><br>I shook my head. I wasn’t going to let their made up stories put me off my plan. Over the next few weeks, I spent most of my free time plotting and scheming. <br><br>Then one morning, when I was thirteen, I woke up to the sound of sirens. It wasn’t the usual policing helicopter, or the roar of ambulances rushing to the scene of an accident. These were old-fashioned sirens: the kind you only really hear in the movies. The kind that wail. <br><br>I jumped out of bed in a panic and ran to the window. The blinds were rolled up, and in my groggy state, I almost forgot about the rules. It took me a few seconds to remember why I couldn’t look outside, but thankfully, it was long enough not to have seen anything. I ran through to my ensuite bathroom and opened the window just a crack. It creaked as I lifted it, and I could feel the cool morning breeze on my fingertips. From the angle I was at, there was no way I could have seen the parade. Nevertheless, I felt a rush of adrenaline as I thought about how close I was to breaking the rules. <br><br>I decided then, at that moment, that the next time the Parade happened, I would look. <br><br>The waiting wasn’t easy, and in the end, it took another three months for the Parade to make an appearance again. It was a Monday morning when it happened: I’d woken up at six to get in a bit of revision for my exams, and I’d just returned to bed with a cup of tea when I heard the sirens. I sat bolt upright and swung my legs over the side of the bed before I’d even had a chance to think about it. It was as if I was being compelled to go to the window, as if something was pushing against the inside of my brain. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down as I opened the window. It was a chilly morning, and a cold rush of air hit me in the face. I shivered as I crept closer to the glass, trying not to make a sound. <br><br>That was it. I was going to do it. <br><br>I was going to look at the Parade.