story i wrote for english class. prompt had something to do with terrorism and rights but i just wrote a christmas story. enoy
Akmed and the paraplegic
Akmed was not a happy man. He grew up in a sandy dust hole in Iraq.
Sometimes at school, he would brag that his sand hole was dustier than
everyone else's. Whether or not this was true, it really did not matter,
because at the age of 20, he and his family decided to move to The United
States. Unfortunately, as they flew over the Atlantic on their crappy 10
person plane, the pilot had an unexpected aneurism. A violent spasm threw
him forcefully against the control pad, sending the plain into a downward
spiral. When Akmed woke up, he found himself floating in a mess of luggage
and body parts. It's sad to say that Akmed was all alone, without a family
or friend, floating somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic ocean.
But, in some crazy turn of events, which are endlessly complicated and not
worth explaining, Akmed wound up in Boston Harbor, with a small water bird
pecking at his face. He sputtered and turned over on his stomach. He stood
up and looked around. This place was nothing like his home, there were huge
buildings and people everywhere. He was now in the land of opportunity and
nothing could get in his way!
Unfortunately for Akmed, this land of opportunity had become a land of fear
and prejudice. Apparently, while floating in the ocean, a group of
terrorists had crashed into the twin towers, leaving the United States in a
state of panic. Businessman were reluctant to hire anyone of ethnic origins,
and the only job that Akmed could find was in a dumpy, downtown, children's
hospital. It was surprising that anyone would have their child put here. The
paint was chipping off the walls, lighting fixtures were always dropping
from the ceiling, and there was something hungry moving in the walls. He
felt very much at home.
One day, while making his rounds past the hospital beds, Akmed heard a
horrible thud. Curious, he looked into the ward. What he saw was quite
disturbing. One of the faulty lighting fixtures had fallen off the ceiling
and clipped a paraplegic boy on the side of his forehead. Akmed ran quickly
towards the doorway. "Are you okay my friend?" He inquired.
"Oh yes," the cripple replied, "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well," Akmed replied, with a confused look on his face, "You just got your
face busted up by a piece of electric equipment...."
"Oh, would you look at that," the young boy said. He reached to the front
of his face and wiped the blood away. "Well, you might as well just
duct-tape it or something, I doubt that I would lose to much blood over a
scratch like this."
Akmed was stunned. "Can you not feel pain in your face?" he asked.
"Im afraid not," the little boy replied," you see, when I was about four
years old, I was mauled by an ill-tempered circus bear. The creature really
screwed me up. My central-nervous system is completely shot, I can't feel a
thing."
"Will you ever be okay?" Akmed asked.
"Actually, ill never be a teenager," the young boy chuckled, " In fact, the
doctor here says that I have only about 5 months to live. But I don't mind, as long as I get to see one more Christmas."
Christmas. Akmed had heard of this before but never actually knew what it
was. "Might I ask you a question little one? What IS Christmas?"
"WHAT"S CHRISTMAS!?! Well it is the best time of the year in my opinion.
There's always lights and singing and everyone is always so happy and
generous. There is a never ending assault of television and newspaper ads
for stuff you don't really need! It's great! Christmas music is constantly
blaring in your ears from all directions and people have little to no
tolerance for people of different beliefs. You even get a great big break
off for Christmas (a prime example of separation of church and state might I
add). I can't think off a more wonderful time of the year for me to look
back on all the things I've achieved in the nine long years that I've had to
live."
Akmed noticed the clock to his left and was reminded that he was still on
the job. "Well, it was fun listening to all your stories, but I'm afraid
that I must say goodbye. But before I go, I was wondering if you could tell
me what your name is?"
"Why of course," the little boy replied, "my name is James, but you can
call me Little Jimmy."
Akmed left the room with a smile on his face, he had never connected with
anyone on such a level. "Little Jimmy," he said out-loud, "Im going to give
you the greatest Christmas ever!"
Our buddy Akmed forgot one big thing though, he was a poor middle-eastern
man lost in a country where no one cared about him. How would he ever give
Little Jimmy his super cool Christmas? Well, he decided he should go into a
public place and ask people for assistance for this task. So, he grabbed his
coat and left to the airport terminal...
One hour later, Akmed was clearing the doors of the air terminal. He walked
through the first set of metal detectors only to be surprised by a loud
alarm. He looked around just in time to see a flood of guards moving towards
him. He suddenly recalled that he had been carrying the bloody light-fixture
in his coat since he pulled it out of Jimmy's head. Before he knew it, he
was on the ground with security guards on him searching him for weapons. One
of them pulled out the bloodied metal object and stared blankly at it. "My
god... HE'S GOT A BOMB!" the guard yelled. Akmed felt a pistol click on the
back of his head. "Sir. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you
say, can, and will be used against you in a court of law." Akmed's mind was
racing was racing at several thoughts a minute. But, apparently not fast
enough, because before he had a chance to defend him self, he was slumped
over in a government holding cell in Guantanamo Bay.
It was dark and lonely and there was an ever-present stench of death.
Through the flickering lights, he could make out the images of other
middle-eastern men rounded up in this small circular room. Some of them
looked as if they had been here for months. One wasn't moving at all. He
heard a noise to his left as a small door opened, letting in a flood of deep green light. Two men came in with a body bag and dragged the motionless man
away, slamming the door behind them.
Akmed summoned up enough courage to talk. "Where am I," he sputtered. "Why
is it so dark?"
A horrible cackle came up from deep within the darkness. "My friend, you
are here, the most terrible place in the world, and chances are you'll be
here for a while."
"Who are you?"
"That is irrelevant here, from now on we are all just captives. But, if you
want a name, I am Muhammad. Once a great king, now I am worth no more than
the dirt that I lay on."
Akmed realized he did not care where he was. He just wanted to leave. Go
back home. Give Little Jimmy a good Christmas as he promised himself that he
would.
"I sense your pain my friend," the hollow voice echoed through the room,
"but don't let it consume you, or you may just end up like the others."
Akmed hadn't even realized how many people were in the room. There were
maybe thirty, forty at the most. None of them said anything. They stared
blankly up into the gaps in the ceiling with their hands clasped together,
as if they were praying for something to rescue them. Akmed decided to join
them. So he slid down the wall onto his knees and put his palms together and
looked towards the heavens. Because in that moment, reality hit him. He was
once again alone, and no one, besides his great protector, Allah, could ever
save him.
But for the first time, someone heard Akmed's prayers. It was no god. It
was no average man either. It was an overweight white person working up on
one of the arctic ice shelves in the north pole. It was none other than, yes
the man who represents the Christmas spirit itself, Chris Farley. Yes, the
famous sketch-comedian who was known greatest for his role as an unfortunate
motivational speaker on ‘Saturday Night Live'.Many believed that he had died
a few years back, but this was clearly not the case. He was up in the north
pole thinking up the funniest movie idea ever. He was sitting in a large
comfy recliner when he heard some middle-eastern dialect ringing through his
ears. Using his super-cool-Chris-Farley-decoding powers, he quickly
translated it to English. "Please Allah hear my prayers. Let me leave this
horrible place and go back home"
"OH MY GOD! IT'S TIME TO GET HIM BACK ON THE RIGHT TRACK!" Chris Farley
yelled out while flailing his arms back and forth wildly. He summoned a
flying pinecone-monster which brought him to Cuba at 68,000 times the speed
of light. As he landed the pinecone-monster, he snapped a bunch of palm
trees, because pinecone-monsters are really big and cool and can do that
anytime they want to. Farley jumped from the creature as it exploded into
thin air behind him. He looked around. There was a huge brick complex with a
titanium alloy entrance. It was guarded by laser-shooting robots.. Farley quickly impaled them with a rust pipe he pulled out of the ground. "ITS TIME TO GET YOU BACK ON THE RIGHT TRACK!," he shouted.
He ran up to the huge entrance. He hit it with the pipe and it blew into a
million pieces. He moved into the complex. Dragging his heavy frame through
the hallways at an astonishing rate, he plowed through several guards and an
innocent mailman. He suddenly skidded to a stop in front of the holding
facility doors. He called out, "AKMED!" and waited several seconds.
Inside the holding cell, Akmed thought he was going insane. "Was that the
voice of critically alarmed actor and comedian Chris Farley that I just
heard calling my name?"
"NONE OTHER!" said a dark silhouette in the doorway.
"Praise the lord," Akmed said quietly under his breath as Chris Farley
turned into a helicopter, picked up everyone in the room, and began to fly
back to Iraq. He landed at everyone's houses and let them go. Then he
realized that Akmed was still in the cargo hold. "SO, WHERE SHOULD I DROP
YOU OFF?" he asked in his cool helicopter voice. "Well, I need to find a
dumpy children's hospital in downtown Boston. Can you do it?"
"WHY NOT!" Farley shouted.
Within five minutes, Akmed was back at the hospital with Jimmy and Chris
Farley at his side. He explained what had happened. Jimmy was speechless.
Akmed whispered something into Chris Farley's ear. He nodded and whipped
his hands around in the air. A blue mist cloud formed above his head and a
gigantic lightning bolt shot out of it and hit Little Jimmy square in the
forehead. Suddenly his body began to tingle. His limbs snapped back into
working order and the gaping blood wounds covering his torso miraculously
healed. He leaped up into the air with joy. Only to find a glowing
three-disk set of Chris Farley's Greatest Hits floating in the air. He
snatched it and put it in his VCR and watched the mediocre skits for several
minutes until they lost his attention.
"Let's get a Christmas Tree!" the gleeful boy yelled out.
Akmed complied. He, Jimmy, and Chris Farley walked to the nearest mall to
find an artificial tree. They took a small break to look out at the harbor.
"It's so wonderful to feel the cool breeze in my hair!" exclaimed Jimmy.
But then, at that exact moment, a public transportation bus tore right into
Jimmy's fragile nine-year-old frame. He was sent spinning into the nearest
guardrail where his spinal cord was instantly snapped and he was sent down
into the deep murky waters beneath him.
Akmed looked to Farley for help with a horrified look on his face. But
Farley could do nothing because water is his only weakness (he would have
been a pirate if it wasn't). So Chris Farley flew away this time as a
fighter jet and Akmed was left with nothing but a broken heart.
