"The mountains are my friends." (an Iraqi-Kurdish saying) Up until the point of writing this journal, I would have characterized my life as not being particularly interesting, unless you happened to be in the computer programming profession like me. Don’t...
about 1600 words James Happiness Happens by James Foley Martin Trent remembered crashing that Iraqi stone farmhouse—past midnight, March 2016. Inside, tapestries draped those stone walls. Four men: two at a table and two on a beat-up green sofa. Ri...
Suddenly, the warning of the tribal elder and Wasad’s explanation came rushing back to us. The entire, horrible truth came crashing down upon me in a rush. I realized that the body we had seen in the hole was indeed a ghoul. The images we had seen of the...
Once packed, we had nothing else to do but hurry up and wait. Sam and I were conflicted about leaving. We felt that it was wrong that we were leaving Chris, but we had searched all over for him, the grunts had searched for him, but there was absolutely no...
At around 5 o'clock the next morning, I was awakened by Sam shaking my shoulder. “Dave, you need to get up,” he said. “What? What? Why? What's happening? What’s going on?” was my reply. “It's Chris,” Sam said. “He's missing; he's not here.” “What do you m...
Chris and I both groaned. We knew Sam was one to go a little bit too far, but this was too much. “That’s absolutely disgusting,” I said. “That used to be a person. That is so disrespectful. You’re unbelievable. How would you feel if someone pissed on you...
Chris jumped in after Sam got out, and, on our signal, he mashed the accelerator down, and he was off. As we watched him race around the track, I considered asked Sam if he had felt uneasy in the warehouse like I had, but decided against it. Sam was a goo...
The Ghoul The following happened about ten years ago. There are times that I still wake up in the middle of the night, sweating in the grips of a nightmare. When this occurs, I know that getting back to sleep will be a losing proposition, so I instead get...
I remember the barking and howling of the dogs. Not the average, neighborhood dog that barks at the mailman and has somehow gotten off of its chain, but wild, feral dogs. Never seen, only heard. Dark town and villages with no lights on anywhere; clouds in...
“Missus. Missus. Missus.” said the Iraqi teenaged boy. I looked up. The sound “Missus.” Had become like a bird call, a constant background sound that came from the boys on the other side of the wire. “What?” I said. They giggled. “Jiggi-jiggi.” I shrugged...
