Read My Story

[Guest guest]

12/23/05

 

Perhaps some of you will enjoy my new story. There are more stories on my

website as well as art, music and poetry.

 

Larry Epston

www.epston.com

 

 

 

ACHMED GOES TO HEAVEN

 

Achmad was eighteen years old. His school was blown apart four years ago.

It was a mistake the Americans said, but they never gave any money to build a

new school. Luckily the explosion was at night, so no one was killed.

 

He didn’t have any friends, and he liked to read his Koran, his holy book.

There was nothing else to do. No hopes, no dreams, no future.

He read and read. Studied and studied.

 

Everyday he went to the mosque to pray, and listened to the Mullah, his

minister. The Mullah said Americans were invaders, infidels and wanted them to

go

home, and take their culture with them.

 

Last week, American airplanes blew up the mosque. They said it was a

mistake, and that they were aiming at some terrorists.

 

Many Muslim people in the mosque were killed. He saw the dead people before

they were taken away. Many were blown into pieces.

 

Later, he heard the terrorists escaped.

 

Achmad no longer had anywhere close to go and pray, and he wondered who was

going to pay to build a new mosque.

 

One day, Achmad took a break from reading the Koran and was taking a walk

through his neighborhood which had been mostly destroyed in the fighting. He

walked past a café, and a man waved hello, and said he wanted to talk with him.

 

The man, Mr. Farid, said he knew his parents before they were killed when the

Americans invaded his country.

 

He invited Achmad into the café and bought him some coffee and rolls.

They talked and talked, and Achmad began to like Mr. Farid. Mostly they

talked about religion and the Koran, and Achmad enjoyed this very much.

 

Mr. Farid admired those Muslims who had sacrificed their lives to make the

Americans leave Iraq. He said American society was evil, full of criminals and

bad people who did bad things. He said their movies were filthy with sex and

violence and that God hated them.

 

Achmad heard what Mr. Farid said and felt the same way about it, and wanted

the Americans to leave Iraq, and take their democracy with them. He wanted to

live under the holy Islamic Law called Sharia.

 

One day, Mr. Farid brought something with him to the café where they met. It

had straps and buckles and wires on it. Mr. Farid said it was a way to

serve God make his life special. A way to give it a special meaning and to show

that he loved God and was willing to make a sacrifice to him.

 

Mr. Farid showed Achmad how to put it on. How to pull the straps tight, and

the button to make it explode. It made Achmad feel strangely powerful and

full of religious devotion.

 

Achmad did not know if God wanted him to serve by wearing the exploding belt,

but Mr. Farid said if it was God’s will, God would let him know in some way.

 

In the night, Achmad had a dream. He saw himself rising up to heaven

surrounded by flames and multitudes of angels who were shouting approval and

giving

him praise. He floated upward, through the clouds toward a brightly glowing

light. Then he woke up and he knew what he must do.

 

The next day, Achmad went to the café, met Mr. Farid, and asked him if you

could wear the belt with the explosives to give glory to God, and go to heaven.

 

Mr. Farid asked Achmad if he had any doubts or hesitation and if he was sure

about what he asked to do, and Achmad said he had no doubts.

 

The next day, it was a bright clear morning, and the air felt fresh and

clean. Achmad put on his best clothes and his freshly washed white shirt, and

went

to meet Mr. Farid to get his explosive belt.

 

Showing him again how to put it on, and how to press the button to explode

the bomb, Mr. Farid said a prayer and held Achmad’s hands, looked him in the

eyes, and said, " God goes with you, and your place in heaven is guaranteed. "

Achmad could see himself in heaven with God, and all the wonderful foods and

pleasures promised in the Koran.

 

It was cloudy and windy when Achmad awoke. He said his morning prayers and

felt close to God. He had saved up water for a bath of purification. A candle

burned brightly in his altar where there were holy picture and his Koran.

Tears came from Achmad’s eyes yet he was happy and peaceful.

 

Acmad didn’t have far to walk. The Oil Ministry was near his neighborhood,

and that is where he walked. Wrapped in his cloak, he could feel the tight

straps of the belt underneath his clothes. His fingers were holding the button.

Pressing the button would send him to heaven to be with God, and the angels,

and all the pleasures he never had in his ordinary life.

 

The ministry was surrounded by the soldiers of the enemy and he saw many

businessmen wearing suits and ties walking in and out of the building. He moved

closer to a large group of soldiers and businessmen. They didn’t seem to

notice them. He moved closer and closer, and then feeling sweaty and nervous

yet

thrilled and filled with joy and his faith in God, he pressed the button.

 

Achmad disappeared from earth. His body was torn into little pieces and flew

through the air. His blood was a fountain thrown into the sky, a sacrifice

to God, a sacrifice to Iraq, a sacrifice to a country free from occupation,

from the foreigners who brought only evil and dirty movies, violence and living

for money.

 

Achmad was on his way to the heaven he believed was real, just as the

Christians believed their God was real, just as the Jews believed their God was

real, he was on his way into the infinite, into the light, into the truth of

reality.

 

On the ground, it was a mess. Gooey body parts, blood, hands, feet, heads

spread out all over. The front of the building was blown away and cries and

screams filled the air.

 

Was Achmad on his way to heaven, smiling?