Mira Posted February 16, 2003 Report Posted February 16, 2003 I started writing this several days ago and didn't finish it till today. It's the first thing I've posted in the Assembly Room Aazaadd-al-rahman stood in the cold desert night. He didn't want to be there, but he knew he must. How else could he afford for his four sons to go to school? Out here, the only way a man like him could afford such luxuries for his children was to fight. He couldn't even remember what for, all he knew was that he was given food and shelter, and a little money to send home to his wife, four sons, and three daughters. As he stood there on guard duty his mind began to wander. Last night a young man in his bunk-house, Hummound was his name, had been talking about the things his cousin, who had gone for work in America, wrote back about. There, he said, every child went to school for free! Even the young girls! And he also said that almost everyone had cars, and color televisions! Aazaadd knew that these tales had to be mostly lies, but if even half the things he herd were true, in America, life had to be better then here. But why, then were the Americans fighting over here in this God-forsaken land? There couldn't be anything here they would possibly need, except maybe oil, but they could just buy that. He just couldn't understand. His thoughts wandered back to his family. It had been months since he had seen them, and they were probably missing him as much as he was missing them. Bahiya, his youngest, would have celebrated her third birthday last week, she was getting so big. And the others were getting big as well. He couldn't wait until he could return home to see them all. Aazaadd was so cought-up in his thoughts that he never would have noticed the man lying out in the desert night, with his gun aimed at Aazaadd's heart. He never herd the shot, never felt the pain, and never would see his family again .
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