Posts Tagged With: Journalist

In The Face Of Terror (III)

Sahara by Night Photograph by Thomas Young

Sahara by Night
Photograph by Thomas Young

The splash of cold water stung my face. My eyelids fluttered open in shock, and I gasped for air. I don’t know how long I was out, but I was lying on the floor and my left hand had been bandaged. The masked man was back. He stared down at me, arms folded behind him.

“My friend, are you ready to continue our discussion?”

“Sir, please, I’ve told you the truth.”

“Maybe.”

“And maybe I believe you”

He tossed a bundle of clothes on the floor, and left the room. The men barked orders at me as they stripped me of my own clothing. I smelled like a goat. One of them disappeared into a corner of the room and returned holding a bucket of water. The cold water stung me like a thousand needles. I washed what I could but I knew I would not be clean. Hastily, I put on my new clothes. A bag was dropped over my head. I heard the door open, and I was led out once again. Continue reading

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Categories: In Series, Lil Pieces of Fiction | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

In The Face of Terror (II)

“Please don’t kill me”

“Please don’t kill me”

I kept mumbling this to myself like it were a prayer.

I no longer had any idea how long we had been driving when we suddenly stopped. One of the men grabbed my arms, shouting impatiently and none too gently dragged me out of the vehicle. I could feel the trail of hot piss flowing over my thighs as they began dragging me along the ground, again. I heard a door swing open just ahead and the floor no longer felt so rough and the voices of my captors seemed to echo as we moved along, as though we were in a corridor.

We stopped moving. I tried to raise my head, to listen, but I was suddenly slammed against a wall.

“Down!” the voice of my captor was a harsh bark. Continue reading

Categories: In Series, Lil Pieces of Fiction | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

In The Face of Terror (I)

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This is not a story. So, if you’re one of those people hoping to pass the time by reading this, I apologize. Because this is right here. This is a moment in time.

It began with my last trip to the capital. The news of the day was that of a mass kidnapping by insurgents in a remote part of the country. Protests by citizens abounded, activists and critics alike called for the resignation of those in power, while the government had fingers being pointed left and right in search of the perfect scapegoat.

As an investigative journalist, it is my sworn duty to provide the public with both sides of any story. On that note, rather than follow the path tread by the greater number of my esteemed colleagues – dabbling into sensationalism with catchy front page titles, I decided to find a path that would lead me into the very mind of the dreaded insurgents.

Continue reading

Categories: In Series, Lil Pieces of Fiction | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

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