characteresque

plot :: Shahr-e Sukhteh

President Johnson approved a measure on Monday that would take effect immediately, resulting in an end to a costly 36 year war against the Middle East. The measure came on the heels of a deadly attack that claimed the lives of 116 US soldiers after extremist demands weren't met. A recent poll of U.S. citizens about the war in the Middle East showed surprisingly positive amount of support of an armed retaliation, with 73% of Americans agreeing that an attack should be launched in retribution. And although President Johnson received overwhelming amounts of support from the House and Congress, the measure isn't passed controversy.

Several leaders of the Middle East, including Hamza Al-Abbasi, the Premier of Iraq, speaking on behalf of the Prime minister who has been out of the public's eye for several weeks now, had this to say: "We do not want for this war to continue. We simply ask that the United States stops invading the Middle East to establish new bases. Our causalities are great and this war is crippling us. All that we would like is for our citizens to be safe and our Prime Minister to be returned."

Accusations of withholding the Prime Minister have been planted on 4 countries, the United States among them. Details about the offensive measures are limited at this time, but President Johnson warned that this would "likely involve a number of airstrikes, bombs and a large combative force". While the initial suggestion of force was met with outrage, with time opposition to the planned attacks have quelled. President Jonhson continues to stress that the United States is "doing what was necessary to protect the American way of life".

It is expected that up to 10,000 troops will be deployed to the Middle East but will return in as little as a few months. A number of US military bases are also being set up overseas as an "extra measure of security", following the airstrikes.

In other news, oil prices continue to rise, crippling the United States' already struggling economy as Americans begin to fear for the worst. President Johnson has passed several bills since January, including several new drilling zones that were predicted to be a key factor in lowering consumer rate prices. Despite these bills, oil prices continue to soar as Johnson reassures the American people.

"The war has cost us more than our economy can handle. But we, as Americans, have stood together proudly and remained patient through the difficult times. I can guarantee you that this oil crisis is coming to an end so that every American family can afford what they need. We will not negotiate, and we will not cower to extremist threats any longer."

يوم الصف

The woman hastily wound a piece of torn cloth around a weeping wound on her leg, the sounds of confused crying and shouts for help luring her outside. The light fixture above her head had suddenly been shaken loose by a large explosion outside, cutting her after bursting into large shards on her bed. In the distance, small booms could still be heard: she had heard the sounds of bombs before, and this seemed similar. She tried to call to her mother, but she was already out in the street, shouting at a man in anger. A quick flick of her light switch indicated that the power to the whole block was out...with hesitation, she donned a quick head covering and joined her disgruntled neighbors outside.

Once she broke through the unhinged front door onto the street, a pile of rubble and a twisted metal canister caught her attention. Someone had blown up something, that was for sure. Her mother shouted and pointed toward the center of town in horror: bright lights of a burning city on the horizon illuminated a cloud of thick, choking black smoke that wafted in the direction of her neighborhood. The air grew thick as terror set in. Phone lines were down, the power was out, and no one knew what was happening. Was it an air raid?

Several homes away, a crashing sound engulfed the neighborhood. Screams symphonized into the air.

The unmistakable sounds of boots rapping the ground in unison drowned out the rumbling sounds as hundreds of uniformed people began marching down the street, peeling off from one another as homes were raided. In horror, the woman watched as neighbor after neighbor were pulled into the street by the strange army. A few were shot on sight, blood trickling on top of the stone and enticing her fear even more. Although she were an adult, the woman instinctively reached for her mother's hand as she stood, concreted to the ground.

Frenzied men and women tried to flee, only to be shot down one way or another. She could hear talking in a language she couldn't understand but feared all the same: she's heard those words before. She was frozen, her blood turned to ice despite the heat, as she felt her mother fall beside her. She turned just in time to see the butt of a rifle held by the strange uniformed aggressors before it struck her just above her eye socket, knocking her down next to her mother. She could feel rough hands forcing shackles onto her wrists and her legs, a rough leather-clad hand pulling up her skirts to reveal her wound. She stared straight ahead, tears filling her eyes as her mother was wordlessly treated in the same callous fashion.

The invader in front of her stopped his or her movements, and for a moment, she could see their eyes. They were light colored, their eyebrows knitted in concentration, their vision trained on the bleeding cut. In broken Arabic, through their mask which skewed their confusing words even more, a woman's voice shouted:

"Can you walk?"

She simply nodded her head, unaware of what her answer meant. Next to her, a gunshot rang out. The woman turned her head, unable to process the body that lay next to her. Time slowed, and for just a moment, she forgot how to breathe. The fear and anguish grew to a stone in her throat as she became limp and compliant.

Without another word, she was shoved in a line with familiar faces. Without her awareness, her cracking voice trembled forth from her lips in a prayer for her mother's soul. For some reason, she knew she would never have the chance to properly send her to the afterlife. Her shackles were connected to her neighbor's, more shackles linked behind her. They were marched quickly, their broken bodies and bleeding wounds trailing all along the way, to a dark hole in the ground. No one dared speak, but the fear in each of their eyes peaked at what came next: they were shoved inside, bodies on top of bodies, as the light from the fires became extinguished by the earth above their heads. It was a tunnel: but to where?

اليوم الأول

It was late at night when it happened, as if a nightmare interrupting a peaceful dream. The kidnappings happened just yesterday, and he knew it wouldn't be long before the attack was launched. A deep rumble, like thunder, grew to a fast crescendo before waking him. He sprung to action immediately, the dreaded but well-rehearsed moment decisively here.

"Quickly!" He pulled packs from his children's closets as the staccato sounds of rumbles gave way to crashing that sounded like ocean waves. One at a time, each member of his large family climbed down a long metal ladder, shrieks and sobs growing dimmer as the sound outside grew louder.

The crashing outside had become full-blow explosions. 13 of them so far, all leading up to his manor...the last of which was so close it sounded as if it were just in his front garden. The ground shook as windows blew in, shards of glass hitting the hatch to his escape tunnel. A quick peek behind him proved nearly painful; a light brighter than his eyes had ever seen before seared at his retinas from just outside his front door. A scorching heat followed as the tell-tale whistling sound grew to an ear-piercing shriek...as he sealed the hatch above his head and began to spin the latch handle, one last explosion rocked them all so vigorously that he struggled to cling to his ladder rung. Heat welded the metal latch shut...try as he might, he couldn't turn the latch for a better seal. Maybe that would prove to be useful?

حكاية الرجل الميت

He wrapped the wet cloth around his head as tightly as he could stand it, his eyes and throat burning with exposure. The impact of the bomb saved his life...possibly...a large chunk of rubble saving him from direct contact with a fire that still raged on around him. When he finally opened his eyes some time later, his skin tingled as small yellow droplets collected on the surface of his skin. The sky lightening to a deep red signaled that the bombs had been dropped at least three hours ago.

Confused and afraid, he stumbled out into a street which he had traveled many times before. It seemed like a new, alien place: a strange wasteland with a strange dirty golden hue. The ground had transformed from grey concrete and light colored soil to a deep black: burned, charred, and glazed with a strange sheen. Chunks of concrete and piles of bricks created a treturous ground of what felt like razor blades to his un-covered feet. The blast must have kicked his shoes off...

He felt as if he were swimming through gelatin. His mind, his body, and his soul couldn't comprehend what just happened to his home. Vaguely, as if witnessing another man's memories, his thoughts turned to his wife and daughter: he had to find them. Even if he died on the way, he must find their bodies first. Devoid of any certainty in the strange new land, he put one foot in front of the other, unsure of where to go. His time was soon...why he wasn't already dead, he couldn't discern. He walked for only a few minutes, his eyes witnessing other equally confused and injured people rising from the rubble like ghosts. Bodies lined the street, piled atop one another, as if someone or something had already been through the rubble to pick at whoever might have been left alive.
The kidnapping had begun the day before. Most people who could not find a suitable place to hide were killed by the strange bombs...if he had known the air would have burned so strongly, he might have gone willingly when his neighborhood was chained together rather than hiding under the floorboards in a false basement.

He stopped for a moment as a strange grinding sound filled his muffled ears; what appeared to be a massive spiraled cone erupted from the ground in front of him. After a few seconds, an immense machine leveled out on the ground after the drill as the metal creaked and groaned under the changed pressure. A hatch opened once the machine had clawed it's way on top of the earth and out spilled a collection of 10 or so men - they were shouting at one another, but between their coverings and his own wrappings, the words didn't collect.

They wore strange uniforms and thick gas masks, their bodies covered from head to toe. As they exhaled, clear gas escaped the protective mesh, swirling in the mustard colored air as a dark tea swirled in clear water before drinking. The man stared dumbly, taking in the scene. Others around him began screaming and crying (louder that before, at any rate).

The first blow knocked him right off his feet, his head throbbing after the butt of a rifle had connected. Several confused onlookers were knocked to the ground at once, the team taking advantage of the confusion and anguish. His eyes grew dark as he struggled to breathe, his burning eyes blinking fast to discern the ground immediately in front of him - he struggled immensely to view, to feel his own ill-fated body, to create a memory that would be his last.

For just a moment, as one of the strange men walked past, a light on their chest shone on the ground in front of his eyes. The blackened ground illuminated, the sheen growing less apparent as the minutes went on: the man ran his fingers through the dust in front of him, his eyes growing wet with a pain of a different sort. The black color stuck to his fingers, a stickiness he hadn't noticed before - and as he raised his fingers to the rising sun, he could faintly see the true color of blood.

المحاصرين

The strong smell of rotten eggs used to torment him, but after a couple of days, the stench didn't even seem to be there anymore. He knew, of course, that he had just become accustomed to the smell of what they were calling "sour crude" oil. It was a thick, black slurry he hadn't even seen before the bombs were dropped...but now he was told it would be his saving grace.

The sound of a thousand boots marching in unison woke him from his slumber, the invading rats hiding from the caustic reality they had created above the safety of their insulated suits and concrete walls. The Americans all survived by living underground; and, up until today, he had survived by being dragged under against his will the day before the bombs were dropped.

"You are here to work for us now. We saved you from the bombs and the gas." A speaker with a thick American accent paced in front of them as he introduced his new home about 48 hours ago. "You will sleep here and work on the pipeline underground until the air can be breathed. The strongest of you will be sent to the surface to do the work that the women and children cannot do."

At first, he, along with the other able-bodied men worked with purpose, the promise of a tomorrow chasing the stench away. The thought of surviving to make it past this injustice was maddening, and even though they all knew they were doomed, a part of him held on to the hope that he really was rescued. Now, he knew the truth: he was an animal sent to slaughter. There was no survival for the first drove of workers sent to the surface. Bile rose in his throat just thinking about it. Last week, if you had asked the student what life would have been like in a year's time, he'd have all kinds of answers. But now...

A sharp whistle blew as the shifts were changing. The young man rose to his feet, his skin covered in blisters and painful welts even though he had worn the clothing they told him to. He hadn't had to endure the air outside for long - 10 minutes - but it had been long enough for him to see the bodies of fallen workers to and from the bunker opening. They looked as if they were melting. They said the blisters would break and be replaced with scars that the air no longer burned...but he had his doubts. Everyone died eventually, and today, it was his turn. Looking at the terrified faces of the younger children, he knew he had to sacrifice himself today in the hopes of a better tomorrow for them.

Walking down the narrow concrete hallway of a bunker built for this purpose, he ran his fingertips along the rough surface: how long had this tunnel been built? How long were they planning to do this? Rumors of a nationwide attack had been circulating for hundreds of years now, but never before had they been acted upon.

Finally, he made it to the hatch at the end of a long ladder. Already, the acrid wind circulated around them, causing him to cough and sputter. With a deep breath, he burst forth into the bright day hoping that this last glimpse of the amber-tinged air and sparkling sand would carry him into a peaceful sleep away from the pain.

The Chosen People

VICTORY

Tensions in the Middle East finally halt as the White House announces end to 36 year war!"

All over the United States, celebrations were held. It was over! It was done! Government facilities and schools shut down for what would become a national holiday in the near future: the triumph of good over evil. Hastily constructed parades pushed the boundaries of patriotic bliss - and America wasn't the only nation celebrating. Pictures featuring refugees of their corrupt governments and sinful ways were plastered on every newspaper, grateful people rescued from a hateful religion and wicked way of life. News reels of families giddy with relief being plucked from their shacks played as newscasters predicted a better quality of life for them: and financial burdens lifted from the US. The underground sanctuaries were filled with civilians who were spared the fate of their extremist counterparts - they were rescued. Eventually, they would have to pull their own weight of course - but they were no longer under the unjust, crushing thumb of the others.

Righteously, they washed rid their minds of the whole matter. They knew not - and refused to learn - and their hands were clean.