So here's a little excerpt in honor of the 12th letter of the alphabet....
I wanted to kiss him the moment I laid eyes on him, but of course that was the one thing I most definitely could not do.
The young
girl with the AK-47 held him steady in her sights. I watched him kneel and carefully lay his
weapon down, the ease of his movements stealing my breath.
His face
was hidden behind a pair of tinted sunglasses, his body encased in Army green
and tan fatigues, but I could see his strong chin and tanned skin. What moved me, what made me want to take him,
was the courage he showed when he surrendered his assault rifle.
He knelt
opposite the girl, unmoving. In this
place of swirling dust and daily eruptions of gunfire and explosions, this
soldier's stillness was captivating - the sound of shouting retreated, fell
away. Automobiles and trucks on the nearby
supply road quieted. The very air seemed
to halt, the dust falling to the ground like litter.
The
American soldier said something. I was
too far away to hear the words, but their tone, even at a distance, was calm,
soothing. The girl rocked on her feet,
but kept the muzzle of her gun leveled at his chest. Tears ran down her dirty cheeks, mixing with
rivulets of sweat dripping from her dark hair, giving her face a Madonna-like
sheen.
I moved
closer, crouching behind the cars parked along the street. There were no passengers, no drivers and no
pedestrians on this lonely street just outside of Kandahar. The residents had either fled or were hiding
behind closed curtains.
The girl
had every intention of killing. I could
see it in her eyes. They weren't the
eyes of a young girl, but the eyes of a soldier who had seen too much
death.
Have a great night!
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