The Little Old Lady: Tears.

The little old lady sits in her armchair with tears in her eyes.
The sun has set and the television crackles bright lights across her room.
The lights that crackle from the screen come from flames as another building burns.
An explosion comes from the speaker as a car blows up and makes the little old lady tremble with shock.
The little old lady is glad that she left the big city over fifty years ago.
She watches as the area she grew up in goes up in flames and more tears well in her eyes.
The little old lady remembers her husband for a moment.
Always remembering him at emotional times.
Lost just three years ago and it still hurts so.
But she wonders whether it was best he is not around to hear of this horror.
He was a brave and honourable man.
He gave his sight to the fight for freedom.
The freedom of these people that she sees on the screen now.
Another tear runs down her face and she quietly sobs.
The little old lady wonders what is wrong with these people.
They have so much now, so much more than she ever had when she was their age.
She has always hated preaching to young people, but time was so hard when she was young.
The terror on the streets came from the skies in those days.
Not from your neighbours, the living blood of the country.
Why, just why are they doing it?
She shakes again with quiet rage and tears begin to stream once more.
A man is talking on the television about someone being pulled from their car.
A woman, alone in her car.
Torn from it and watching in horror as they set it alight and laugh.
A lone women unable to protect herself and these evil people care nothing for her.
Another building flashes up on screen and another business burns.
More jobs gone.
More livelihoods destroyed.
Smoke rises across London and the little lady cries her heart out.