Monday, September 18, 2006


Kay  Hassan
To Franz Kafka  

Gravely, Barack , in his workshop, was bearing an old sculpture, and starring  at a spot where a bullet has left a nasty crack on. Barack  was a sculptor.   He lingered midst smokes and  chemical smells, feeling a stream of painful surges  in his chest. His gloomy workshop was as ancient as himself.  Everything was  chaotically thrown on the ground. He stepped forward midst paint cans, boards, and  brushes, however, intentionally he avoided  some pieces of rare marbles. He had to halt there and  linger before  he could step any further.

His noisy friend,  has just broken into his house with a thousand news and rumors,
He was a chronicler. Barack  trusted him.
"It is awful. It is awful," said his friend.
"What is awful?" murmured  Barack.
"Nothing...Stick to this stinky dust!"said the chronicler darkly.
"I will." said Barack.
"You shut me down, don't you?"
"You have no right to talk to me on behalf of myself."
"I did not!"said Barack .
"Goddamn, old man, do you ever  think?"
"That is not the case," said Barack .
"You are just an extinct artist stinking in this dirty slum, ain't you?"
"Yes I am."
"Are we losers?"
"Yes, I think we are."Barack  said.
"And... you do nothing?"
"I do nothing."
" You live on your art."
"No I live on my talent in calligraphy... I write emblems and banners for all  those who kill each other. " 
- In his general mood, Barack  did not smile...instead, he gave him a bite.
"Taste this, There is plenty for all," said he, and grinned  joyously.
 "Oh, ye...that is my favorite."
"I know...I know."
"No one will come."
"I know...they are copping. They are younger."
They both were  in fact raging...Barack halted  prior to throw  tantrums.
His friend  shrugged again an plunged his hand int his pocked - Barack  thought,he was a nonchalant man, unperturbed by tantrums. 
" I swear they are not prone to any of such feeling," Barack  mumbled to himself.
" You underestimated my knowledge."
"You are living in  the past."
"You don't cop with the past, do you? "
"Man, look around yourself, and confess; we are barbarians."
"I know I know."
Barack, grabbed a small hammer, and chisel.
"What are you doing."
"I break my idol."
"I am sorry. You are a poor  "

 For the last time, Barack  hugged the sculpture, and sadly gazed through the window, however, unexpectedly, with a horrible jerk , Barack hit the sculpture. He was cruel; had trusted his hammer mare than his brash .
"You are cruel," said his friend.
"I know."
"You know what?
"It is better...they are coming," said Barack.
"But you are crying...I see tears."
"You see what?"
"I am just saying."
"Don't speak that way."
"I am serious."
"No you are not."

Barack  saw his image in the window mixing with some  moving creatures outside the house. His eyes were blurry, mixing things oddly.
"Barack ," said the chronicler.
Barack was silent, worried mostly about his eyes. He did not trust his eyes.
He stood motionless all the while, for having struggled to catch the sight of  two black shadows were creeping on the street. He bade himself restlessly . "Move over there." And  he moved atately  to where the window lay...lingered  until finally he could murmur.“Behold over there. We have visitors."
"Oh, ye they are coming,” said he.

The shadows had already crept out from a Black Benz....he watched the scene until  the Benz took off  squeaking on the street, Barack knew the shadows were escorted by several guards.
"Strange!"He said coldly.
"What is strange ?"
"Black, fire, ruthless gazing. Oh, good God." Barack   said
"No, shit. WOW. I say Nothing is strange these days,"  said the chronicler.
"Boys in blue, boys in black." Barack  said.
His friend was swearing ."Sons of God,"
"They are coming -down the sky?"
"They look holy."
"I write History in a different way," said the chronicler.
"They are a new squad,  a new generation."  Barack  said.
"They came with the Americans," said he.
"No we were brewing them, since seventies."
“We are lost, either way,” said the chronicler. "I am writing tribes history." 
"I was skeptic."
"About what?"
"About where my loyalty lies."
"Don't bother me."
"I bother myself." 
“They are just a new gang, nothing else,  man.You never find such an  excitement," Barack  said, cynically. "Anywhere else."

‘No glory, no achievement. We  even  betrayed the principles we worked for." said Barack .
"Aye  , you say things: We had stolen, betrayed and spied on friends."
"But it was not that bad."
"Aye... thus  how the principles of metamorphosis work," Barack  said.
"I refer to my book: Genealogy," said his friend.
"If you listen to  my advice. Don't show yourself to the new generations."
"Wine was better than this fuck,"  coughing-  his friend said, and spat  tobacco and smokes..
"Are you so old.?" Barack  said.
"Damn, we used to bitter not to this junk."
"Tablets are fine."
"I  said my book, Genealogy."
"You wrote a dumb string of names and called  it a book."
" I did not! It turned out to be a tragic show, I am serious."
"What do mean?"
"In tracing their ancestors everyone chose  the line of his ancestors among-st the historical figures regardless of the dates."
"Scientifically  tried to say we are  sisters and brothers."
"Terrific," said Barack, and went to his bedroom.
" Are sleeping in this environment."
"Do not jump to conclusion."
"Am I ..."
Barack disappeared for several minutes ..

Despite the tension, he brought more junks, and sat next to his friend.
"It is from hospital, I have got the best milk and drunk for my long night, and have got  onyx and things for sale." Barack  said, and laughed mildly.
"Mix it, look, slowly, slowly, see a new gang...they are new gangs, em," said the chronicler .
"Do not think too much, do not bother yourself .Find me the best historical phrase  for this chaos."  Barack said.
"To coin a word for such a grave phenomenon....I need many resource "
"Underwood is growing , think that way."
"We need Genealogy- I am done." Barack said, and stood up restlessly.And as he approached the window again, snapped." Hold on ."....
"What are they looking for?"  Barack  said.
"They roam  the streets and dirty lanes; raping, stealing, reading Koran ,  praying and then ruthlessly explode themselves,"said the chronicler.
"You went too far," Barack  said and laughed loudly.
" No I did not...let me ask you a question."
"Take your time."
"What kind of joy they could  find in such a ridiculous death."
" Heaven, sex,  money, birth, may be more."
" Are you insane?" said the chronicler.
"No, I am a realistic man.Were not we all those years teaching those kids," said Barack.
" No...we were taught to teach them that way."
"There is no excuse.We are criminals  too."


"I swear to God, they are as dirty as the city is... not more," said the chronicler.
"Oh, dear,  they are looking for him. Your client, the captain. I told you."
Barack  looked amazed."  I do not think they do... the gritty captain had escaped... bailed out. But  they were waffling." Barack  said.
"He escaped, did he?" said the chronicler. 
"His links with the troopers had based on his reputation. He  played the game very well," said Barack . He trained warriors, killers and other kind of mercenaries."   Barack  said.
"Win win, it is fair."
" Excellent."
"The silky bastard had found a new phase . I guess he won't  appear very soon,"
 "He meets his old comrades and hides himself midst Muslim gangs who started lately awarding the foreign warriors with the local tribes' damsels.".
"So we are on the same page."
“Junks, and …I told you that is our trade now," Barack  said.
“I know. I know.”
“Everything has gone, we are nothing." said Barack
"We got the sign; green light!"
"You were a unique chronicler. Look at yourself,you are now just a chieftains' historian? Fuck," said Barack  and laughed loudly.
 "I won't cry past...I lost my pride," said the chronicler.
"You should have worked for Gulf's sheikhs- or Arabians' princes.”
"What are you doing? Tell yourself- I have eyes to see."
"I am tattooing  kids' skins."
"Terrific? What do you call it."
"Metamorphosis. We are metamorphosing ."
"You remind me of Ovid’s, don’t you?"
"Somewhat, yes, but at the bottom."
"You are now a nightingale, ain't you? Jug .Jug"
"Fuck, I did not say that."
"I say this is our metamorphosis; bang bang bang ...fuck fuck."
"And, you can tolerate it."
"Look at the faces of the passersby."   
"Good one."
"The boys are becoming dangerous and I hate such deals,"
"I know...I know."
"Then wait for a suicide car, or a child made rocket."
" What for? We are nothing"
"I don't know. Principle!... may be." 

Barack  looked out anxiously , the shadows were now visible , creeping  towards a cart was left close to his ruined fence. "Damn,  the binnacle," said he, and ran to his bedroom... As if was timed with Barack ' move, upon his return, some bullets pinged off the window, and Barack tossed the binnacle on the ground.
"Are not you fool?" his friend said.
"And  blind." Barack  said
‘I have to know what  those bitches are looking  for."  Barack  cried impatiently.
"How do you know  they are bitches?"
"I have a feeling and  instinct. I am a man."
" What a day?"
"Oh, yeh. I am just saying."
The chronicler had walked through the dingy neighborhood, trying his best to avoid the  peoples' eyes , until  unconsciously  halted, and lingered  against Barack 's name on the wall. It looked like an ancient venues name. He also  read on the wet  wall the  name of the new owner of the shop next to Barack 's workshop which was pathetically  popped out from his  house, His Sire name Alattas was written on the same level with the storefront of the funeral supply shop.
"You  should have found a hell,- a place to live on."
"Doubtless  has purchased  in advance his funeral supplies-"
 "Who knows ...might have paid for mine too," said he and laughed loudly.
"Nothing like this  had  happened before."
"I tell him, sell your property ,and escape this hell. He says.'You are tribal mined man.Nomadic... can't stay where you are. "
"I swear, we  gonna die like dogs. "
"The freedom? Goodness. Dream, man, dream.""
"Fuck, you say. 'My freedom lies where I belong. This chaos is my freedom.’"
"Fuck, you are not Anarchist, I know you are not." .
" It is not the best place, but it suits me,"

Barack  looked through the binnacle.
"Behold, the bastards over there," said he.
"What is good about that?"
"Fuck! He explodes himself," said Barack ,and seized breathing, as instantly was barraged with a thousand bullets. "Shit, they fucked me."
 Marines rushed into the little dirty  plaza..
"Fuck... they did not let him explode himself."
"That was unfair," said the chronicler.
"Have you seen all those fuck?"
" Then, where are the bitches?"
"I  don't know."

Marines, however, hit the humble  plaza  barbarously... swearing and ,screaming maliciously.
"Stay far, they are sort of Jihad Lashkar of Allah,"  a black Marine screeched on a megaphone ...but hardly Barack  could catch some phrases. For him the announcement looked like a new style of rap.
"Are you gonna publish your book?" Barack  said -he was grinning .
"If were funded by local chieftains."
"They gonna fuck you."
‘Shit!!! Same story, but it is excellent," Barack  said.
"Do you blame me?" said he.
"Yes I do, my sibling," said Barack , and jerked violently...then  unexpectedly, all of a sudden
he  darted through the door, like fools.
"Watch up! Man, "  the chronicler shouted desperately.
Barack  was silent...he was restlessly watching the scene.
"Have you lost your mind?"the chronicler said and looked through the door.
"Bastard, they are targeting your head, and you drink just like that,"said he and ran to the Barack's bed room to fetch the gun.
"Drinks. Tomorrow may be banned, " Barack  yelled.

Barely, Barack  cared about a bullet hit the cart, though he yelled seriously. "Hold on."
For having  heard a sudden gasp. under the cart. The whispers were now clearer. "It is haunted, "said a female voice...then a sweeter voice kept  whispering in fear. The two shadows were stretching under the  half wrecked cart. Eyes full of horror and awe in the darkness glittered, when they uncovered their faces...actually Barack  had demanded harshly. "Show yourself.".
Hence, unexpectedly, in a sudden move,  Barack  headed  to where the women were lying down, He bowed and dragged them out and  savagely pushed them into his house, where his friend was readily pointing his riffle at the new comers.

The young  damsel too had already unveiled her dazzling face, and restlessly-in a great fear  kept watching  the silhouettes of the two men, on the floor. "Tattoo, sir, we came here for tattoo," the old lady said boldly ."TATTOO."  ...then consequently the young woman jerked to confirm. "Tattoo. It is for myself," said she, and  was still frequently,  breathing faster than usual.

Nevertheless , flippancy was the first thing, jumped  into Barack 's head. He remembered, how  decent  he was with his students. He had been lecturing, for forty years. Definitely since the day he me came home gloriously with all his medals and documents from Rome ...and found the silk  girl of his old neighborhood waiting for him. "This is your, are back," said she.
He did not have many words to say. His mother spoke for him. Gossips ran through the neighborhoods. And then a bit later gossips ceased to exist.
 “Are you alone?" said his friend, furiously.
"I knew instantly what was going on in your filthy head," said the elder woman.
"Keep  your mouth shut, woman," said he.
"Emmm,  yes, sir.You are mean like the others," said she.
" Yes I am... worse."

Tattoo, anyway, he thought , is becoming the strong  muscles and thick skins, however, he demanded. “Who are those  guards ?”said the chronicler.
The women did not say anything
"Barack, search them..."
"They are females, man."
"Search their sachets."
" Calm down, bro. No one can kill me .Stop pointing the gun on females...they are my guests."
"I said, search them."
"It is is fine."
"I will be watching, at any rate."
"Tattoo for who?" Barack  said.
"For me. My self."
"For you! Oh. yeh  you said that earlier. But how?"
"Don't think about how," said she.
"I have to."
"Is there anything wrong with that?"
"I try to figure it out...Hm...I have not worked on woman's skin."
"You  have to."

"Damn,"  Barack   murmured ,in  regretting  himself for being unable to give up his bad habits.
"I am checking," said the chronicler.
"Check what?"
"The guards had gone, and nothing is visible in the dusk," said the chronicler..
"Excellent. My friend."
"What are you waiting for?"
"Calm down please. Let me ask my guests; what are you  want precisely," said Barack .
"It won't take long..." the young lady said, and  brilliantly, introduced a map and  relayed it to the weird looking- man. Barack  was shocked by the codes and  richness of the calligraphic-script.And as  much as was in hurry to figure out the meaning of the script was   was anxious to ask her."All these cursive script  on your  body?" said he and eagerly gazed at the girl's body- and her luxurious  carriage.

Another stray  bullet hit the window, and during the startling moment, they rushed to the farthest corner of the room, escaping the sound and crushed glass. The old woman introduced her turquoise bead  and yad- Fatima, and pointed them against Barack' eyes. However soon the guests started bargaining with Barack -

His friend had already lit up two kerosene lanterns.
 “Well, sir," the woman with the huge breasts said and nodded theatrically to the damsel's body, and roughly measured  her breast,  buttock , and thighs ... her display implied  an unspoken threat. "Don't touch her body."And he agreed.
"Write' em; on, on yes, on her skin, her name, address, religion, guild, and tribe, under the verses. Listen then, we'll tell you the details," said she.

The chronicler wondered, with a nasty gaze ,if such a dazzling beauty resides in the headquarter of  Baghdad's Harlotry   or belongs to a renown family . The woman spat on  the ground, and said." I  know how you think ,sir." Barack  was sternly gazing into the space between them. He was avoiding women's eyes since he lost his wife... and  has never touched any female's skin ever since.
He wept on her coffin, and swore to live with her memories.
My sons, he thought,  are older than this damsel .He was happy for having escaped the country very early...but whenever  they offered him their  help, gratefully used to say. "Darling take care of yourselves."

Somehow, as was instinctively acquired the art of Blazonry - the elder woman displayed what the wars' symbols meant for them. Barack ,in fact  submissively showed his interest in the project, until was distracted by his friend." Are you insane?" …..
"I am still thinking."
Barack anyway did not pay attention to him.............
He thought deeply, and tried to compare the project with some samples of his works ."It is a divine coats of arm, Madam," Barack  said, expecting excessive glowing charms in the damsel's eyes...
"Yes sir. I am aware of that," said she  confidently.
"Brilliant," said he.
"Well, sir. God never forgive  any sins of mine," said she.
"I understand," said he
" No you don't," said the elder woman darkly.
"Then, kindly, madam, enlighten me," said he.
“Mine is more sinful. Actually we are a sin itself, sir," said she, before a massive explosion went off behind the block..
“The  cafe! "Barack  snapped.
"Only God  can stop it," said his friend.
"Anyway ,we got to  work quickly, sir."
 "My lady...I am too busy. My customers are senior official. They won't tolerate any delay of their orders," said Barack .
"Arts, decorations - design."
" Man, seriously, who cares about arts," said the woman.
"Right..."said he and thought seriously and whispered in his friend's ear. "What if they did not pay?".....
"Right," said the chronicler.
"I won't listen ..."
"Go for it man. You're dumb and blind," said the chronicler.

The chronologist had came to  show  Barack   samples of  some ancient calligraphy - boys in his slum had brought him for price evaluation purpose. They told him. "We gonna be rich, sir."
The chronicler  had trusted them ;  they used to be his students. Though was sure they had stolen theme during the chaos,  he was avoiding himself to face the truth.
"Your tribe?" Barack  asked the young woman, and she told him.
Startled,  the chronologist said. "Strange."...
"What is strange, sir?"
"The name of your tribe."
" I am  part of many tribes, sir," said she, and nodded to Barack  to start.
“Just do it, sir...” the girl yelled nervously, and readied to take  off her clothes. without asking for permission.

Stripped, the damsel  floated up in the space, to provoke in their heads overwhelming emotions , and had them extended to their  exhausted lions.
"Every bit of your body, Oh,  breasts of angels." said the elder woman, in a coded language.they spoke oddly.She was fluent too. The two old  men enjoyed the ambiguity...and sighed  with a delightful  rapture
“Being married does not give you such advantage," said she.
“You are still virgin, my lady,"  the woman whispered politely.
“Come on, know you are lying, "said she.
“Are you on the run?"  the artist said..
“Hey, man , she'll pay generously, ” said the elder woman.
The damsel looked offended. She bellowed ."Is there still such a stupid question to be asked ?'And burst into a loud laughter
"Have I said something wrong?"
“Do your job , “ she said and took out a pack of a glittering hard currency from her sachet with a small pistol, whispering in his ear. " Euro? US- Dollar? Chose...”

The artist stood looking at his friend, gaping in shock. He was expecting his initiative friend to reply.  But he was sluggish and lazy, and  somehow  moved like a penguin pledging in his way. "It is fine, ladies, every thing is fine, money is fine, gold is fine, antique is fine.”
The women laughed and started dictating to Barack  what was in her mind. “Write down, sir , here, on my skin,” said she and took a hold of his hand firmly, and started rubbing her glittering skin with his hand. "I am a bitch, my mother was a bitch." Then she sighed deeply as the jerking current  died out in their bodies.
" Of holy- line, sir. write down."
"I will," said Barack .
"My mother was a bitch, "said she.
Barack  readied for a huge blow.
 "Then we start with her story," said he.
"I am ashamed of her CV," said she.
"Don't be, madam," said the chronicler.
 "She slept with the president  and then slept with his sons,"said she.
"I adore such a time arrangement," said the chronicler.
"Hold on, old was not like that."
"They threw her for his relatives ."
"That is the cycle of the life," said the chronicler.
"I am doing well... talk, woman. talk," yelled Barack .
"Then was thrown to the his guests; kings presidents ,and leaders of all sorts. They were coming secretly, and conducting their clamorous parties, year after year."
" They gave me chocolates. Though was a little girl, I used to rub cream on the scratches the savages' nails and teeth had left on her skin."
"She was rubbing my tears, and singing."
Oh, dear passerby,
 Listen to me
I can see you ,
Oh, passerby,
Tell the  folks  :
My brothers are dead.
O' passerby,
Tell my folk,
They brought me to his castle
And took my  sisters to cabaret

"They watched me growing. Savagely fought  over me and bet. "Who gonna rape me first." ...but I was too young to be touched.My mother taught me many tricks. "
"Imagine a little girl like me midst those  cruel beasts."
"Before even I started my turn, mobs rushed to sack the castle. They  raped my mother in front of me, then with a cold blood killed her, and  abducted me for their imams."
" My lady...calm down.I beg you," said the elder woman.
"Shut up, woman...I know you spy on me, but I don't hate."
"My abductors divided the spoils, but were not certain  about me. Actually, they fraught over me, until  agreed on an act paper tells, in God's name.'Each party, in the contract takes me fore a while."
"Write down sir; I can't feel your his fingers , woman."
"He is doing well, my lady."
"Bring me a mirror."
"I was too young. They were seeking their forum for a Fetwa."
"Oh, ye there are many," said Barack .
"Right, but they saw  nothing  was more important than  my flesh."
''They made the decision,"
I could not understand how  would they divide me," the damsel said and read many many verses, condemning the females' sin. And when the woman begged her to stop she started singing her mother's ballad.

The artist was weeping;  he rubbed  his eyes. They were in fact blank balls halting behind his  dull glasses. Her image was blurry and shaky. The Chronicler  was  trying to abbreviate the history of   Baghdad's harlotry, along  with Barack 's hands administering  the poison into her body.
" I think they taught as much as  scholars did." 
"What are you talking about?"
"Whores teach better."
"Fabulous. Had you talked to  your students about this."
"No, no. Never.But I am certain.
"Tell me about my Tattoo," said the damsel.
"I have never seen such a  beauty, my lady," said the elder woman.
"I can't trust you."
"Master!" yelled she.
Startled, Barack  snapped. "I shall help,"

It was after midnight when the work came to the end. The artist announced strangely. "There is no  more room on your skin, my lady. I 'm done. It is perfect. Wish me achieve such a perfection in my art.".....
"Oh, my God!Dream ...dream, " yelled she, and  jerked to gather her clothes. "Cover me, how dare you touch me, God never forgive you," shrieked she, and started reading holy verses to rid of the bodily  filth..
"You never know whose spouse I am." 
" We are brothers and sisters, my lady," said Barack ..
"Yes we are."
“We are too late,"   the woman cried..
“We got to  get them as soon as possible, sir," the damsel said.
“Get who” Barack   said.
“Non of your business, sir," she snapped.
"No, it is my business,"  Barack  said.
"Stay out of this please," said she. "I am even not myself."
" What do you mean, little baby."
"Stay away. You don't know who you are talking to," said she seriously,then  jumped and took out from her sachet a huge pack of money and threw it on the ground..screaming.
"Do not look, I can't bear your hungry gaze."
The artist felt a crack "Fuck," said he furiously.
"Calm down..." said the chronicler.
"Who she  think she is ?"
"It is her body....she is free to cover."
"I know. I know."
"She is free."
"No she is not... you are cursed. God never uses  the word FREE."
"We know...we know," said the chronicler.
"Then, let her go," said the elder woman.

The damsel was was  gaping, and hugging her clothes. And then the woman led her to the farthest corner and helped  her to wear her underwear as soon as possible to reduce the time of sin. The old men were not watching them, but were nastily practicing their eavesdropping skills until in a confident voice the young lady demanded. "Keep it ready." And heard the sound of the pistil." Here we go, I am ready for death," said she  joyously.
“It is too much," the artist murmured... she did not reply, until covered  all the white colored  linen.  
"We won't see each other."

She was now  wrapped with her black gears.
"Farewell,"  they said  gravely, prior to set off  like deer, however briskly  darted through the door . They  looked shrunken in their black gears midst the cold rays which started  falling upon their shadows from the late horizon of the night..
"Oh, my devils...Such a sweetness resides  in the city,” the artist said, and proudly  raised his fingers. They were strong and  flexible. He pointed them to the fleeing shadows, who awkwardly  rushed into the depth of the night, and disappeared. Barack and his friend were certain that the women were restless and hesitant.

Nevertheless,  heartily, the two old men  watched the deserted plaza behind the window until unexpectedly  two shadows  emerged through the darkness nearing to the house, but sooner  they came to a sudden halt next to the fence.

Barack  was stunned, he remembered how sternly she said. "Farewell." He sensed the useless binnacle again. The man  was  frustrated, Actually, he  screamed ."Come back , sisters, come back." The chronicler helped with a louder shriek. "Come back, please." But they only heard  cruel echoes, and  breathing ghosts. The old men felt  the danger though, they kept shouting loudly. "Come back. Come back"  Until the woman replied. "It is too late, sir. Shut the door.It is more dangerous thtan you expect. "

The chronicler  saw more ominous signs. "Old, and stupid," said he, and stepped back.
He had copied  some  excerpts  of the script on the fresh body. " And thou know the truth, we had no guardian, no mentor...”
Barack  shut  the door slum
"I should not have stayed. Things are strange?" said the chronicler.
"Die with me."
" I will. I will."
Following the black Benz, viciously, a fleet of vehicles emerged and flowed into the plaza, shooting the sky barbarously with slogans of hell. A thousand bullets hit the house. Upon seeing the cruel scene, the two old men were shocked. Barack was now certain the women would never escape their destiny. He could see the women falling one after another. It looked the black Benz could catch up; it was the same Black Benz, which brought them in the first place.

Nevertheless, the bodies were still  lying on the ground." Motherfuckers?” the  artist screamed, then murmured to his friend. “I am not proud of anything."...
"Agree," said the chronicler. Anyway,  by now the Black -Benz's passengers had recovered the bodies."They were her guards, are not  they?" said the chronicler.
" Right...wish them the best wishes," said the artist.
"I will. I will"
"We could protect them."
"Who the hell protects us."
"I don't know."
"I said.'Lets go.' Did not I?"
"Yes you did," said Barack.
" God...  storm," said the chronicler.
"Holly, fuck,"

 They could catch the glimpse of waves  of smokes and sheets of flames sweeping the space, when a huge track  hit  the Black -Benz  The blast  rattled the ground ... cracked the walls and the roof, and overturned the sky up side down . They were reeling and  bravely  murmuring to each other for the first time since 1972, what they believed in. They looked for an extra moment to live, and joyously cried together. "Goddamn, bastard. We enjoyed the life. You Devils of Lord."
 The flame rushed in,, blue and black. 
"Marines are  lingering there."Barrack  said.
"Oh, yeah, they are guarding the plaza."
"Drinking,and  smoking."
 "Peoples are coming and going.."
"They are living, anyway."
"She was beautiful."
"It is the end."
 And then everything was black.

The End


Long stories but interesting! There are a lot of Christians who "fret and worry" over every little thing and to do so is also known as DOUBT and to be in doubt is not to have the faith that GOD gave unto us so therefore it is SIN! Wow! What a grabber huh!? Yes, GOD says that we are "full of seed". Pregnant is the word HE used for us. All we have to do is allow HIS word to come forth in us and we bring forth HIS children in us (HIS FRUITS) and we become more like HIM in all we do and say! Hope you come visit my site and BLOG and may you be blessed in HIS love, Katie

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