Here They Come

Aah and Bee meet at the top of the hill

Aah: Down the hill they’re panting

Bee: What’s happening?

Aah: Young and old – they’re drunk

Bee: You mean inebriated?

Aah: Yes – All of them.

Bee: The soldiers of the Hagham regiment!

Aah: I tell you they’re drunk. The people were fleeing. I left too. I saw them torch the whole street.

Bee: Heavens! What can we do?

Aah: Look out. Here they come. I can hear their lorries.

Along comes Cee:

Cee: They set alight to Smith’s farmhouse.

Bee: How do you know?

Cee: I saw them fill the doorway with straw and pour petrol on it. I rode away on my bicycle as the flames rose high.

Bee: Was the house empty of people?

Cee: Yes. They told the widow to take out three items.

Bee: Did she?

Cee: No. She is too frail. The soldiers took out a bed, a table, and a chair.

Aah: Why did they burn down the house? It is so isolated.

Cee: Her son.

Bee: Her son – was he there?

Cee: No, stupid. Her son is a rebel.

Aah: But he is only a boy. I do not believe it.

Cee: All males are suspects. This is war. The High Street is on fire. All those beautiful shops are gone! Thank Heavens the sounds of the soldiers is receding. Have they passed us by?

(This happened in Ireland when I was eight years old.)

Rose Lynch (1-Feb-2005)