The Silver Trumpet Brayed

After the Attack

After the attack we peered through the smashed and shattered windows now held together by thin sinews of wire at the still smouldering remains. They had come during the night, three of them, armed, as always, with a few stones, a stick or two with which to swagger and the knowledge that they would probably never be caught. We peered as the camera had peered across the dimlit stage of the road where they had performed and though they were long gone, we could see them, dimly.

The camera had it all, the three of them, two children and a man. Whilst the adult searched for more stones, the children pelted the windows and when at length they gained acces, they set the bomb which would burn away so much of what was important to us.

posted by Weasel @ 7:25 AM