They rushed the streets like a swarm of locust. Except for the eyes and above the forehead they were covered in black from head to toe, knives, guns and sabers drawn, bullets riddling all in their path.
When they closed in it was more in their eyes than with gesture or knife that revealed their heart or intent; seething hatred for all but those sworn to serve Allah and Islam. Caucasian, clipped sharp tongue, and blue eyes muddied brown as they bore into my soul, and I daring to not look away, but rather stand like the warrior I’d become as they swore to take me down with a clear swipe of the sword to my head.
Hours later, my head bandaged, my mind struggling to make sense of my surroundings things are murky, shadows moving in and out as if passing through patches of fog.
The face is blurred…shrouded in black.
Their words, “You will convert or die.”
It played through my head like a grinding, hated repeating reel, over and over again. ‘Land of the free?’ This can’t be happening. It isn’t possible. I must be dreaming.
Then, I felt the jab in my arm; an injection of some kind, and knew I was not. Slipping into unconsciousness, I was shoved into a black hole.
Joyce E. Johnson (2015)
Footnotes: This is a work of fiction (Part 1). Continued parts will be posted as finished.