Prisoner No. 1 \ MMA - Short stories

All of the literary works I brought are authorized by me.

Prisoner No. 1

Note you may read:


Anyone must not blame me for my free pen, this story is one of the real stories in the period of American occupation to my country Iraq.
Believe me I don't hate anyone, any human in the earth whether he is poor or rich, whether he is bad or good, whether he is sad or delighted, but I am as any writer would be affected by the circumstances surrounding him , and will endure the sufferance of people.
Some of Americans were my close friends,and still my friends, some of them helped me one day even in something isn't too worthy to be mentioned, thus I am the friend of all, thus I haven't any enmity to all, thus I came here only because I love the English language, thus because I love the English literature, and I have promised myself as a translator to be faithful with others culture as it is my own culture and perhaps I am more faithful than the native one himself in this career ..
I wished anyone would be kind with me, would be honest with me, I am not the one who tries to stab others on their back at all, I work faithfully even if the translated work is not mine, even if it is out of my belief...
That's my career and I shall be in the top of honor that I claimed , the career which shall I undergo correctly, shall I receive without worry , without disdain, without prejudice until death..That's who entitled himself " MMA"


The story:

Aren’t you Sir the owner of this coffee?
Of course, yes! But, why do you come here at late afternoon?
The curfew time is about to start, then it is winter and winter days usually are short.
He lighted a cigarette then hummed with himself in slowly dim sound; they were here and will come at once, they will see me again wearing the same yellow dress.
Are you Sir waiting for someone? The coffee-shop owner asked.
No of course, I came late, and then I saw no passers at this wrecked place.
Do you Sir mean something? Yes, but I am about to…
Do you mean that swiftly fleeing woman? She is the neighbor of that old man who forgot to pay three shillings the debt of yesterday.
I came closer to him throwing in his ears badly news, the man suddenly stops to eat the sharp diner of potato mixed with free lemon.
They will steal your house, and then you have nothing to pay for them. They used to associate a slinky woman for the case of deceiving people.
Then they will kill your small boy if you do not pay for them the ransom.
Did you Sir mean those who usually come at the suppertime wearing the trousers of police?
They had knocked my door one day when I was returning late.
But, they asked me only about my name or whether I am single or married and further more one of them gave me small cigarette of his iron tobacco small box.
Did anyone of them try to enter your bedroom? No, no, but I heard some noises of footfalls inside the external balcony from the right railing stairs about three minutes or more.
Of course, they will return next day, I muttered.
The man rambled two paces forward then asked me:
Are you sure that they are not affiliated figures or members of any divisions of military or internal forces?
I think so!
They wear special clothes in order to camouflage people eyes.
They had often to do that in different parts of the city.
Minute of confusion and terrible fearing covered the street as well as me when the old man asked me to pick a quick glance to the pictures that he delivered out of his pocket; moreover, I had seen some of them watching the venue carefully with stabbed- constant sights to me and to the old man.
Random disarranged papers are there over and inside the old cupboard…
I lift my hand to make such secret gesture to alarm him never to pick a glance for their side, then to gather that rough but the very important papers of reality for another side even if to put them under the barrel of gasoline or in the chimneystack.
I had known and immediately know the contents of that papers and it is disastrous if the contents were fallen in their hands.
The time is crucial, and then I must leave immediately at least to be in safe perhaps that they thrust to break into the place then perhaps will detain me or detain us together…
My car is in the second entering of the next street about ten yards is stopped.
They could not see it because of the large tree stretching its branches down and the ruins of an old wall and its remnants cover the way from the last year ago when an explosive damaged the place and smashed doors and windows.
I said to him good by then I jumped through the back door to my car switched it and hastily I escaped to the third street toward the outskirts for my village which it is about 50 kilometers from the last point of the city.
I turned on the radio to hear the last local news of FM local broadcast, but I heard nothing because of the harassing cracks of my old machine.
When I reached two kilometers beyond the last checkpoint I was enjoying the relief, preparing one cigarette to smoke with pleasure since the outlooks of roadsides was clear, and I could only hear the sound of tires' friction moved over the sold rough stoned way and the sound of my car-engine.
One fasted car passed me when I was just about to reach the last village
before mine, and in the place was nearer to the big valley which we cooperate three years ago to build an archway over it for the purpose to get rid of the heavy current of winter flowage.
Hardly could I remember the time and the occasion where I saw the off- going men who riding the swift car, but when I had refreshing my soul by a can of Pepsi I remembered the driver.
He is that one, who did a butcher shopping in the last two years ago,
he is of course a man of strength and wisdom never asks about the dim silly things wherever the sight of grumbling people hurt him by their speech of disloyalty to whom is their nearer relatives and it is a familiar common habit that relative always blame and complain to their cousins.
Suddenly an ominous thought gathered up to my mind when I was too close to the outlook of my own village hurrying in front my eyes view after view.
The muddy big house of the grind-miller, the adjacent neighbors and the flock of cattle that returning in evening to their owners, all these views impressed on my thought the scaring homesick to the bygone days.
Yet I did not switch the light on, but the movement of the armed vehicles confused me although I felt that it was just military operation frequently military do it.
However, the matter is different when I saw them wearing their complete dressings with all equipments and seem at a full readiness.
I could not return back to the city because the curfew time was in, then the auxiliary gasoline amount is not enough and the prize which I bought for my little daughter all these individualities stand against me not to think or had thinking to escape whatsoever the matter is.
When the last moment is remaining and the armies are only about half kilometer not more I put the only weapon that I kept for the emergency moment under the rock beside the road then I followed my way forward passing between the army forces.
They were about three hundred or more supplied with modern tanks and armed vehicles handling with guns pointing for each direction and wearing the spotted dresses of US shock troops.
Doubtless, they were quickened to do their job, and it is of course they will ask anyone moves there, since they had come in aftermath of the last accident when someone planted an explosive bump near the side of the road and the explosive killed one of them.
They call each one of us whether they know or do not know by the distressed ugly term "the terrorists".
Two minutes after, they captured me under the pretext of suspicion as well as many of my relatives and my neighbors.
I didn’t remember whether I can hear or couldn’t hear in that crucial moment of breath stopping in that gloomy misfortune; the crying of children, the weeping of old women about their sons as well as the barking of dogs, neighing of horses, and the glimmering inside of the cloudy sky.
What is the nonsense to talk about then or what is the meaning of that worthless life?
Many ideas and questions had jumped to my mind as well as their multiple questions they threw in a disarraying manner.
In spite of our eyes were tighten, but I had distinguished the voice of that traitor Arabic translator, who sold his himself consciously without compulsion as a slave to serve them.
Then they took us for an underground prison at the airport of Mosul, no one could talk or ask even to a simple question or could expect what they had to do for us but only to sit silent waiting on his catastrophic torture.
They put each one of us in specific place made as a hole to be fit for each person size.
At the next morning, they gather us one after one for inquiry.
When my time had come, they throwing upon my head hundreds of questions even they asked me how to eat or how to waste my time.
But, one of them shouted terrorist, terrorist, I respond to the answer but this time in English, calling him not to say that; we are not terrorists, we are nations have the right to live and have the self-determination and although you are occupied our country by force, but you have not the right to arrest people without reasons.
My voice fainted at last because someone of them hit me on the back of my head and I began to lose the consciousness.
You know English then you are educated man and know that we came to release you. One of them talked with me…
I know that the reasonable answer is to challenge their questions but it is nonsense to claim proud when your destiny is under the mercy of your enemy.
Even I could answer and explain but I stood speechless and the only thing I was going to do is to repeat what they need by yes or no.
At last, one of them gave me a cup of tea and turning asking me again…
What do you need to know? I replied to him
Freedom is not gained by force and you cannot say that you have doing progress for such nation if you treat them by force, I replied for him.
Sorry! Sorry. However, you must work with us or help us.
I cannot do that at all…. Him, Him it is a good idea for you, but for me it is not.
We shall teach you a widespread knowledge in our better university and for instance, Champman University and you could choose for example the security- information department or anything else.
Of course, I refused although they induced me by money or rights in rem assistants.
In the next day, they brought me again and in the same manner, they tried.
A week after they had satisfaction that they could not oblige or compel me to work with them.
The matter that I am very satisfied in it they do not respect the traitor at all and one day when their job finishes they will kill him.
Month after I got their pardon to be released and returning home.
However, most of my relatives stayed there had not the device of communication or visiting but only to wait release.
What could I do for them to be getting rid from that dim situation?
The government will not respond to your appeal even you write or ask the higher figures of government's heads.
Moreover, they phone them not to release anyone or otherwise they put him in their dim prisons if the other side transmits any prisoner for their behalf of consideration and the wrecked one prefers to stay in the prisons of the enemy not to be imprisoned in the governmental detentions.
Yes that's the matter we had suffered more and more and even that orphan boy who had lost his sisters and mother was stayed there even his two cows no one had to milk them or herd them for pastures.
He was under the death sentenced for a long period of arresting, they called him the digger of graves and sometimes they call him the doggie as a sarcastic name.
Although he has weak body but he is stubborn and never leans his head down
I didn't' see him since the period of detention, whether he is still alive or dead? I do not know.