Friday, April 28, 2006

I'm stuck

The last person I wanna kill off in "the gift" story, he owns a large building that has a business of some kind, I don't know what though.

I'd make it a slaughter house, but it doesn't seem right.

I'd make it a whorehouse, but then I'd have to describe the whores etc... I don't wanna do that.

A school ? No. Real estate ? No, A car dealerhip maybe ? hhmmmmm....

I don't know, what do you think ?



Tuesday, April 11, 2006

The gift V

It's 10 in the morning, the massive jungle city of Baghdad comes to life, slowly. Herds of poeple get ready to start another day; doctors, fishermen, teachers, suicide bombers, policemen.

I'm awake, waiting, thinking, stalking my prey.

I park my car next to the large red edifice that is the old Baghdad brothel, throughout the decades, with the new and old regimes and the bloody invasions and revolutions and coups, this whorehouse stood strong and proud, a testament of the state of affairs in this whore city of the world.

The man I'm looking for is Ibn Abeeh, the man in charge, the pimp, one of the most powerful men in Baghdad, and because sooner or later all men must frequent the whorehouse, he knows all the goings on in this cursed city.

Entry was not problemetic as this place was made for men to enter in secret, the dirty corridor is lined with dark hallways going left and right, if one were to stand still and listen out, one would certainly hear the muffled screams of the rape of Baghdad, This place has never been so popular, poverty and corrpution have created a vaccuum in which men satisfy thier hunger, and women... well, women can put food in thier children's mouths.

But today I have no interest in hungry mothers, I walk up the stairs where the only room is his office, usually crowded by gurads with M16s (only Ibn Abeeh can afford M16s). Luckily for me I have surprise on my side, and all I wanted to get was information, I take out my gun as I approach the door, and I kick my way in...

Even though I'm carrying my guns in each hand, I have to be very still. any sudden moves can pronounce me dead from any one of the four gunmen pointing thier very real M16s at my head, so he knew I was coming.

"I'm not here to kill you"

Ibn Abeeh smiles at me from behind his office. "It certainly looks that way from where I'm standing". He had a face you indicriminantly disliked, features that were not iraqi, an accent that hurt your head, and crooked teeth betraying his years or smoking, drugs and alcohol.

"Tell me something Amu Sami, What does a man want from me ? if he kicks down my door armed with smiles and guns ?"

"I didn't come to kill you" he knew I was telling the truth, he wanted to to toy with me first, I will give him that.

"So then these must be flowers and not guns ?"

"I'm here to ask you questions, tell me what I need to know, and I'l leave"

"OK let's see what you are here for", he motioned for one of his guards to grab my guns, the one behind me, I heard him put down his gun and

in the next ten seconds, I made time travel faster. in the split second the guard behind me was grabbing my left gun I could see the others relaxing and pointing thier own guns away, I turned around the guard behind me using my gun as a pivot, all of a sudden I was choking him from behind with my left arm, my right hand did the rest
By then the guards hadn't yet grasped what happened, the first shot from my gun sprayed blood all over the wall and the other two, in pure natural reaction one guard used his M16 to shield himself from me like a child fearing a slap from his father, the other pointed at me in a broad sweep of his barrel and pulled his trigger
the whole east side of the room became instantly hole filled, I feel the blood of the guard I was holding gushing in my face, I smelled his blood and like a shark it made me a thousand times more alert, I shot the panicky guard in the face and he fell alongside his gun.
I dropped the guard I was choking, he fell to his knees, like a worshipper thinking of what else to pray for, and finished the falling trip to the floor.

The last guard was cringing in the corner of the room, I could see Ibn Abeeh looking between me and his guard, unbelieving, all blood drained from his face, in this ten seconds the tables had turned.

"I'll give you anything you want, i have money, I had women, I have weapons, I'll give you anything you want"

"I only want information, someone is trying to kill me

"It's not me I swear I know you I have nothing against you

I picked up my gun and shot the fourth guard in the stomach, this last shot was alot slower and louder, especially with the piercing screams of the guard, I find such screams to be very helpful when scaring people to talk, I shot the guard again, in the head this time, silence filled the room.

I turn around to the pimp. whose face was now painted with horror.

"Answer my question, who is trying to kill me?"

"I don't know I swear to you, no one's come with news like that, just that the big guns in Badghdad are going off one by one, no one knows who's doing it, we though it was you, but then word came that you're in the list as well"

"what list what are you talking about"

"Someone's cleaning the city, someone CLEAN is cleaning up the city"

I was getting very nervous by this time, I didn't know what he was talking about, but I had an idea, in a burst of emotions I slapped him with my gun, I dind't want to kill him I sensed he knew more "WHO IS IT ?"

I had knocked some teeth loose in his mouth, his accent had gotten worse by now
"I'm not sure I swear to you, all the info I'm getting isn't making any sense"

"What information, tell me what do you mean? "

"Well, there is only one reason why I havn't gotten any details about who's doing it, it's because the ones doing it don't come to my brothel,

and there is only one group who don't come here..."

What I understood didn't make sense to me, I got it, but I didn't udnestand it
"The dreamers ?"

"I have no other explanations, and the news from the weapons people is that they've been buying alot of stuff, thier mosques are very well guarded now"

At that exact second, the phone rang, it had a shrill tone and in the deafening silence of the room it made both of us jump, the pimp looked at me, and since I really didn't want to kill him, I let him pick it up.


"what do you want? What ? ?" he looked at me, confusion on his faced meant only one thing, this call was for me.

I took the phone, who would know I'd be here ? and in the office ?

"Hello ? "

a voice answere "Alsalamu alaikum"

It was the voice ! the same voice of the man who threatened me earlier yesterday! I knew the voice and it sent a chill down my back, "WHO ARE YOU ?"

"If you want to meet me, I'll be in front of the Um Altubool Mosque at 2 today, meet me there.


"I'll meet you then, alsalamu alaikum" he hung up.

my hand was aching from holdin the phone so hard, my stomach hurt, my face was all of a sudden sweaty. I looked at my watch, it was 12, I had two hours.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Regarding the Kid

Alsalamu alaikum

Some of those who read my story "the Kid", or "kid", I don't remember.

Anyways, some of those who read that story, didn't like it, they thought it wasn't realistic enough, and that it didn't have an underlying theme, and for that I apologise, I dind't want anything serious with this story, just something light hearted and humourous, whic just happened to take place in iraq.

I am however attempting to finish "the gift" story soon, and I promise you'll like the ending, and here is a hint about the ending.

NO HINT ! ! ! HAHAHAHAHAH ! ! ! you just gonna have to wait like everyone else.


The gift IV

I'm driving at night, very late night or very early morning, the streets are empty and quiet, except for me, making my next move, stalking my next kill, I park my car and fall asleep -I havn't slept for 18 hours-, and find no trouble falling asleep, even an hour can recharge my rampage, the only thing keeping me moving now is hate for my enemies, and rage.

I don't sleep long though, my slumber is interrupted by the long wail of the dreamers, those fools who think that the God above looks at them, or that he controls anything, I see them walking towards thier wailing source like sheep, thier white tunics and sleepy eyes giving them a more sheepish look.

All hope of sleep gone, I start my car and roar off to my next kill.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

burn outs

Alsalamu Alaikum

Burnout: an emotional state in which a person is faced with so many stressful situations that he/she run out of will power.

or as likes to put it "haustion of physical or emotional strength usually as a result of prolonged stress or frustration b : a person affected with burnout"

My dad always tells me that there is no such thing as burn out, and for most of the time I agreed with him, but you know how you think differently before burning out and while you're burnt out ? Well now I'm thinking again, I do think there is such a thing as burn out.

So this post isn't about anything specific, I don't even want to whine about anything, I just wanna write to feel better. thus spending my frustrations in non violent ways, no yelling at people, no throwing shoes etc...

earlier I had wanted to start an experiment with my writings, I would write little snippets of a story, not to tell the story, but to draw an emotion form the reader.

For example I would want the reader to feel fear, or a thrill, so I would try and describe the situation so well, the reader would feel like he/she is actually living it.

Or I would try and the reader feel saddness.
Or love.

or happiness, which at the present time I'd only be able to link to love.

I'm still thinking of this experiment, so keep an eye out for it.

I'm bidding on an time on ebay. and I have 15 minutes and 30 seconds left, so I think I'll write till then.

13 minutes.

It's raining outside now, heavily, I like it when it rains this heavy, only I wish I was home, with my wife. eating popcorn.

My friend asked about the reason for racism against muslims in Australia. I said that it goes back to the way muslims preresnt thier wasys of life as Islam, many of them don't do such a good job, stealing, being abusive, dirty, lazy etc...

He asked again whether the racism isn't all a pretext the government uses to push its agenda's overseas such as iraq and afghanistan,

I mentioned that it wasn't very hard for them at all to find pretexts, the problem was still that muslims are basically just like any other thirdworld person. I mean if we can fix ourselves first then we can have more to say to government if they are using racism as a pretext. but Allahu a3lam

6 minutes 14 seconds.

I have nothing to say. I wish I could travel to Dubai, it's a nice place with time of year, lots of sun, surf and indians.

Ok there is not alot of surf, but there is a heck of alot of indians.

the rain stipped, now everything looks wet and nice and ... wait, it's still raining, only now there is no wind. so it looks calmer.

3 MINUTES TO GO ! ! ! the caps lock was on by mistake

I probably shouldn't ramble on in my blog like this, it brings down the level of readabilty. but since am burned out, I don't care.

I should write a finishing story for my "the gift" story of the iraqi gangster, but I really can't think of a good ending for it, it looks ok now, but what if I write a crappy ending ! then the whole story will suck and I'll be pelted with preverbial tomatoes !

1 minute to go

23 seconds

12 seconds

5 seconds

I won the item ! yay ! ! !

alhumdulillah, I feel better now, thank you for taking the time to read my ... stuff.



Saturday, April 01, 2006


I don't know what day it is, I haven't eaten for 3 days, and hands are starting to swell, I think it has something to do with all the stress I've experienced, and that fact that I haven't eaten for 3 days. The food is right there in front of me, I'm just too scared to reach for the food or else I might die. They might kill me, my fingers are cold from the stress I'm going through, and I just can't leave Zoodi (my nick for zayoodi) alone he still needs a lot of practice and backing, he already died 3 times so I know I can't trust him to be alone.

Somewhere inside I know I shouldn't be escaping from reality in a PS2 game, my life really is in danger, I actually could die of a bullet to the head if things go wrong with the ransom handover.
My new best friend is my kidnapper's son, and he can't speak my language, except
For shit which I keep muttering like a mantra when I'm playing a hard level.

It's funny how quickly you made friends with certain people given the right environment; close quarters, a common interest, and even though we couldn't communicate properly, and his dad kidnapped me at gun point, I still can't hold it against him, I mean it's not like he had a had in kidnapping me ! even though I still feel a bit eerie for him to still be tying the towel thingee around his head, but I guess his dad makes him wear so I wouldn’t recognize him later.

Then at one point where both me and Zoodi were deep into one of the final levels of the game, at that point we had entered a plane of reality where time and space lose all meaning, and the only dimension that mattered to us was the old television screen and the bad cowboys shooting at us and themselves getting shot into cyberspace hell, one disadvantage is that interrupting us while we're in this reality is like jumping off a very very speedy car.

So when zoodi's dad opened the door and came in while calling us all the way from the door to where we were sitting almost literally glued to the screen. All I saw and felt and sense was the bad guy, ducking his bullets, trying to headshot him with mine, zoodi similarly shooting at mr bad guy's little minion bad guys, I had to develop a successful pattern of ducking and shooting because my fatigue was catching up to him, this guy was very good, almost too good, already two of his bullets grazed me and I can feel the pain slowing me down, the ..

Mr kidnapper stood in front of the screen, suddenly and violently my reality exploded, my lightening fast lethal hands lost the comfortable feel of the sandalwood handles of my pistol, a pathetic dark plastic controller hung there limbless, lifeless. The shooting was still going on, the bullets were still whizzing past my head. I couldn't see past the thing (zoodi's dad), and for a second I just froze, I (or zoodi) let a sharp gasp escape.

One second was enough for us to draw enough breath to react, the next second was enough for both me and zood to scream with all our might, for both of us this was life-or-death, my stream of swearing English gibberish coupled with zoodi's high pitched gibbering screaming of his own


Mr Kidnapper hadn't expected this emotional outburst (sounding even more chaotic with the game in the background), so instead of pulling out his own (very real) gun on me, or slapping me and his son like runaway slaves, he did actually jump out of our way, and plastic turned to sandalwood again, my eyes became like hawks, my hands like a wizard's staff, Zoodi's backing never faltered. I could not have wished for a better partner.

When we finally nailed the bad guy, we were able to pause the game and our own hearts, reality set in and we realized what he did, I just yelled at my captor ! I didn't want to turn around coz I knew he was standing there, sharpening his knife for all I knew.

Zoodi steals a glance at me, gives me a look that says do what I do and he turns around.

Afoo baba

I do what he does, turn around slowly, Mr Kidnapper does look angry, but not as much as I thought, I repeat

Afoo baba

He looks at us, doesn't say anything, his eyes moving from me to his son and back to me, his silence scares me, and now that the game is paused, there are no sounds at all, if I was standing I'd be shuffling my feet.

Finally, he looks at me,

You caan goa

I look at him, bewildered, has it already been two weeks ? I had lost track of time here because there was no watch or clock or normal television programming, my dad must be so worried about me, my mum must miss me like crazy, I could go back to Melbourne and get back to school there ! I wouldn't have to stay in Baghdad anymore ! No more kidnapping and stress and fear.
I just looked at him wide-eyed and quiet, as his son asked him what he was saying.

Com with me, I will teak you hoam

Zoodi was looking at me now, the son of my enemy, and my comrade.

Com , staand ub

I didn't know what to say, I looked at Zoodi, his eyes sparkled, or was that just my imagination ? he would be sad to see me leave.

"I can't go "

Mr Kidnapper gives me a look like he dind't understand what I said

Whaaat ? what you mean you caant goa ? I tell you go now.

"I can't, I have to finish the game, we're at the final few levels, I have to finish it !"

Silence, he's looking at me, his son is looking at him, and I'm looking at the game.

The End