An Iranian Story

"I am sure the general could put you right next to her."

"Open your mouth and stick your foot in it. I do not want to be next to her. I just want to watch her suffer. As I told you, she was my role model, I did everything she did, and you to let me do it. You did not throw her out, and you did not throw me out for doing the same thing."

"I will ask the general to put you in a hole up to your neck, and cover your head with a silk cloth. I am sure you will be very comfortable."

"Mother, you would not do that to me."

"Fi, watch me."

"Abraham, are you listening?"

"Where else would I be?"

"Do you have in mind, what I have in mind for my daughter's?"

"I did not, but I must admit Madame, you have an evil mind. I like it a lot. I will have one daughter attached to a post, and the other daughter in a hole facing her. I will have my tent next to them, and hope the wind blows like a hurricane. It will tear her clothes to shreds. I will be treated to a bare body in the morning, and I will not have touched her."

"You must be sure of the direction of the wind overnight. You would not want it to be coming from the wrong angle."

"I will check with the meteorologists to be absolutely-sure. I will be in an area of the desert with no obstructions, and the wind will be able to blow freely.

"I am very happy that I am not the only one with an evil mind."

"Did I tell you about the video and still cameras tent I was going to have erected next to my tent. The audio should be magnificent."

"Abraham, have you ever heard Hafsa yell? I would have ear coverings with you if you have not. That girl some pair of lungs on her."

"Yes, I have noticed. They are very evident through her clothing."

"That is not what I was talking about."

"My mistake."

"Pervert."

"I have not touched the child, yet. I intend to marry her before I do."

"Those negotiations are going to be epic."

"You can bet her ass on it."

"You better keep the clergy close by you."

"Do you want to attend your daughter's wedding? I can always have another tent erected."

"Abraham, you are going to spoil me. Are you going to invite the president to your nuptials?"

"I will advise him of the absurdity of it all, and when Ava hears about it, the country may hear about it shortly thereafter. If you want to talk about a pair of lungs, that woman has no equal."

"You can have her beg him for a reprieve."

"It would be his first one, and after hearing the circumstances, he will refuse it."

"She will be devastated. She will have had to explain her life to the newly elected president, and he will tell her to go to hell, or to you, which is worse."

"Madame, at least I love her. She will not believe it, but I do. She will not understand, but I do. How could someone as terrible as she is, beloved by someone like me? You see, I see in her the other description of her name. Not as a young lion, but as the 'Defender of the Koran.' I just must get it out of her, and I believe I am strong enough to do it. She will spend many hours at prayer, and I will be right beside her. She will not be able to toy with the prayers, she will have to say each one with a purpose, and each one must come from her heart. When she has climbed all the steps to get to where she needs to be, I will present to her a Ruby the size of her fist to place over her heart. I want her to understand that her heart is big enough to take on this country with me, because we will be serving it together for the remainder of our lives."

"Abraham, I did not know that you are such a romantic."

"A romantic with an iron fist."

"My daughter will soon find that out."

They arrived at the site slightly before midday. The sun was high and so was the heat. There was a 6-foot-tall post in the ground and a 5-foot-deep hole ready for a person to be buried in. The girls looked at each other in fear.

A Lieutenant took the girls to the positions and said, "Hafsa, you are the oldest, you get to choose which one you want. You can be buried alive, or you can be tied to the post and be killed by the wind."

Hafsa said to Fi, "I am sorry, I cannot let them bury me."

Fi responded, "I always knew you were a bitch, and this proves it."

They took Fi and began to bury her, but not without a fight. Hafsa was in tears.

Hafsa was taken to the pole. She was forced to face Fi, with her hands tied above her head, a rope around her neck, around her waist, knees, and ankles. She was going nowhere, ever.

She watched as they finished burying her sister. She was covered in sand up to her neck, with only her head above it. Then they covered her head with a sack, and Fi screamed.

Her guard told her it was for her own protection. It was to keep her from getting sunburned.

Fi thought, "Yeah right!"

She heard Hafsa ask, "Do I get a sack also?"

"No, you can roast all over, as far as we are concerned. The general wants you well done."

The vehicles that brought them to this position roared to life, and left them there, all alone, or at least that is what they thought. They believed anyone could come along and kidnap them, and sell them into slavery. They wondered if that would be the lesser of the two evils.

"Fi, can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you, you are only 2 meters away from me."

"Why did you follow my example?"

"How can you possibly ask me that question? You were my idol. You were strong, and independent. You stood up to mom and dad, and got your own way. You live a free life, none of my friends could say that."

"So, I paved the road to hell, and you walked on it."

"No, I ran on it. I did everything you did, and tried some new things."

"Did you ever think they were wrong?"

"Did you?"

"I asked you first."

"Now is not this an interesting conversation. Guilt, looking for guilt. Which one of you has more guilt? The older one, who led the younger one down the road to hell, or the younger one who followed the sister to hell. The devil accepted them both willingly. All I am doing is sending him their bodies. Isn't that nice of me?"

Hafsa said, "You idiot, bodies do not go to hell, only souls do."

"Oh, so you did read some of your Koran, and it did stick in that empty head of yours. What else do you remember from our Lord's words."

"I remember plenty. I probably remember more than you do."

"If you remember more than I do, you must be a genius. Would you care to test me on it?"

"Hafsa, do not do it. He is setting a trap for you, and it will only wind up worse for you in the end."

"If you know so much, why aren't you a mullah?"

"Why do I have to be a religious idiot to serve our Lord?"

"I told you he was setting you up."

"Shut up."

"Do I sense dissension in the ranks?"

"You could not get between us, with a tank."

"I could get between you, with a teaspoon."

"Go to hell."

"No, my dear, you are going to hell, and I am going to put you on the bus going there. Now I have a question, which of you two think you are hotter?"

Hafsa immediately said, "I am. The sun is baking my skin."

"That is amusing, since none of your skin is showing, except for your hands. Your head is hanging down, and your mop of hair, that is covering your face. Your feet are in the shadow of your garment. Your body temperature at this moment is 97.7°. Don't you find that amazing?"

"How would you know that little detail?"

"The sensor on your skin is telling that to me."

"Then why do I feel so hot?"

"I told you in my office, you are a whore, and all your thought processes take place between your thighs."

"No man has ever been between my thighs."

"Bullshit, an army as probably made its way through your thighs already. Your sister probably has videos of it."

"I am sorry general; I must have been sleeping."

"You would have been like sleeping beauty, sleeping for a year. Your sisters' thighs would have been chafed."

"I have never had a man, and I will not have one until after I am wed."

"I am sorry to inform you, that you will never have that opportunity. As I have told you, after this week is out, you will be out on the street branded as a whore. No man will ever want you as his wife, or the mother of his children. They will turn you over and have you face away from them as they have congress with you. They will not want to see your face, because they will not want to see the mark on your forehead."

"Little one, what am I to do with you for the next year to guarantee your compliance with my wishes? I do not want to brand you permanently, maybe a tattoo would do the trick. Something that your friends would see for the next year to explain your disobedience.

I have an idea, I have a friend, no a group of friends that run a martial arts studio. I will have you attend it so that you will get yourself beaten every night of the week except Friday. Friday, you will attend services at a mosque. I think that sounds equitable."

"Getting the crap beat out of me every night sounds equitable to you?"

"What do you think you did every night to your parents? You tormented them to the end of their patience and then they cried. They cried to Allah for strength to continue-on, and thankfully they did, otherwise, your father would be in jail for murder, and you two would be dead."

Fi began crying again, because she had no strength in reserve.

Hafsa yelled at her to stop, because it was annoying her.

"I cannot, because I cannot believe how stupid I was to follow in your footsteps. I was a terrible child, made more terrible because I was like you. I knew I was like you, because I followed everything you did, and tried to make myself worse. You were an abomination, and I knew it. You never did anything our parents wanted, and I never let them tell me anything. I was a disgusting aberration of you."

Abraham yelled, "Get this child out of here. Put her in jail, and get her a psychiatrist. Not my father, anyone but him. Clean her up, give her some food and water, and dress her appropriately. Only let women near her, if she wants to talk to her mother, she may."

Fi was out of the pit in a few minutes, and in an ambulance moments later. She was given oxygen, and sips of water. She still could not control her tears.

"Do you still believe I could not get between you and your sister, Hafsa?"

"I never realized how much she hated me. I thought we were best friends."

"How could you be best friends with someone you never had a conversation with?"

"We always seemed like two ships passing in the night. She was always doing one thing while I was doing another. We would always smile at one another, but never talked."

"How do you build a relationship with another person, without talking?"

"You don't."

"Are you a prostitute or not?"

"No, I am not a prostitute."

"Why do you act like one?"

"I did not realize I did."

"How can you possibly say that. You act above everybody else. You push everyone else aside. No one is as good as you are. You do not go to mosque. You do not pray. You do not dress appropriately. Should I go on?"

"No, I do all those things, I just did not realize they gave me that reputation. I thought I was a good girl; I just had a set of standards for myself that were different than anyone else's."

"Let me get this straight: You thought you were a good girl. Shall I start with your parents?"

"No, please do not start with them. I would be a failure immediately. I treated them abominably, and then I made Fi treat them worse."

"Okay I will keep score. Let us go to your schooling. How are your grades?

"Are you trying to kill me slowly, or all at once.

"I am talking about you, you tell me."

"I am barely passing."

"You are a very bright girl. Why are you barely passing?"

"I do not like school. It is a waste of time."

"Who said so?"

"I did."

"Do you know that in most of the Arab world education is forbidden to young women, and that anyone in the Arab world educating a young woman can be put to death. Here you are receiving a free education and you are saying it is a waste of time! Do you find something wrong with that?"

"God, I hate myself."

"And well you should, young woman."

"I was not talking to you. I was talking to myself."

"Did you get a satisfactory answer?"

"Do you mean beside the one that said "I am so stupid; I should be horse whipped?"

"Young woman, that can be arranged. As a matter of fact, it would be my pleasure to administer it. However, that will come later. Why do you find school boring?"

"I am smarter than most of my teachers."

"Name one, and be careful, because that teacher will be here within hours. I will test you against each other, and if you are wrong, one of you is going to be beheaded. How does that sound to you?"

"I can hold my own with most of them. Bring me my math teacher, and we will see what happens between us."

"I will call him and see if we can get him here."

"It is not a him, it is a her. Mrs. Faisal."

"I know the lady well. She tutors my troops to bring them up to speed in math. It should be fun putting your head on the block and watching your head come off."

"I will not be looking forward to it."

"Then you should not have bet it."

"Sergeant, make sure my Sabre is sharpened."

"Yes, sir."

"What about the way you dress?"

"It is different."

"Is it acceptable by normal standards?"

"It is acceptable by my standards."

"I do not believe that was my question. If you walked up to a Mullah; would he be pleased with your method of dress?"

"After he threw up, he would yell at me to go home and change my clothes."

"If you knew that your clothing was so unacceptable, why go out in it?"

"It was different than anyone else's. Most women wear black, from head to toe. That was not going to be me. I like colors, and I was going to wear them. I read about our country's history. I read about Mesopotamia. I read about the Golden Triangle, the fertile crescent, and the development of colors throughout the region. If we made colors 3000 years ago, I was going to wear colors now."

"All right, that is three for me and one for you. If it was not for our new president, that would be four for me and none for you. Ali bin Sultan King wants this country to move forward in the direction that will lead us to freedom of expression. I would like to beat the shit out of you, young woman, but that would be against what he wants. You are the devil incarnate, and you must learn your place in this society. You cannot go around showing your wares to everyone. That is indecent, and that will not be tolerated."

"I never did that; I never wore revealing clothing."

"What do you think attracted me to you? Do you think it was your earrings? Do you think it was you vail? Do you think it was your sandals? No, it was your breasts, and they were sticking out a mile."

Hafsa smiled, she knew he was right, because she wore her clothing to accentuate her chest. It was her best feature, and she wanted to show it. Well, apparently it worked, because one very powerful man now had her attached to a pole, hand, and foot, and she was going nowhere fast. When her math teacher got here, she had better be prepared, or she could lose her head in the process.

"Have you finished mulling over your future, young woman? Are you going to live after your math teacher arrives?"

"We will certainly find out."

"So, we know you hate school, and you hate your parents, you hate clothing restrictions, you hate your sister, I cannot say you hate your religion, because you just do not practice it. What am I missing, there must be something. I have it, you hate men. You are a lesbian."

"I am not a lesbian. You said I had taken on an army of men; how could I possibly be a lesbian."

"Every prostitute takes on men for payment. In their private lives they take on women for pleasure. Is that how you get pleasure, Hafsa?"

"I am not a prostitute, and I am not a lesbian."

"Prove it, marry me."

"What!"

"The only way you will prove to me that you are not the spawn of the devil, that you are not a prostitute, and that you are not a lesbian, is by marrying me tomorrow morning. If you say no, and your math teacher arrives here this afternoon, and defeats you, your head will roll. Think carefully about your answer, this is a one-time offer. If you say no, all bets are off."

"General, Mrs. Faisal can be here at 9 A.M."

"Tell Mrs. Faisal that is acceptable."

"General, your sword."

"Thank you, Sergeant, you have done a masterful job, as always."

"Would you like to see how the blade gleams?"

"If you do not mind, I think I will pass on that honor."

"I will not let you pass on this honor. I want you to see the last thing that will cut through the skin and bones of your body. It is truly a work of art, and a thing of beauty. It is more than 1500 years old, and an heirloom passed down from generations of my family."

He brought his scimitar to her and held it a foot below her eyes. It had a massive blade, and was nothing to be fooled with. It could cut through bone as easily as cutting through cheese.

"Miss Hafsa, isn't it beautiful?"

"I have never seen the likes of it before."

"You have a choice, this, or marry me. I will be waiting for you to make your decision. They will let you free at 8 AM. If you run into the desert, you will be free, until they catch you. They will bring you to me, and I will cut your head off. The alternative is a life of terror with me. I live a very stringent life. I am a military man through and through. I serve this nation as my God. If my president tells me to do something, and the Constitution tells me it is legal, I will do it. If they are in opposition to one another, I will have to take sides. I will not be happy about it, but I will have to do it. I would like you at my side so I could have someone to talk to about it. Someone strong, who could stand up to me. Not some weakling who would bow down to me. Have a nice night, I am going to bed.

Hafsa yelled, "You son of a bitch, I am going to look like a wreck on my wedding day."

Abraham turned around, smiling from ear to ear. He walked back to her, and said, "I did not know you were getting married."

"You son of a bitch, you have painted me into a corner that I cannot get out of. If I do not do this, I lose my head. If I do; do this I get to live. It might not be a great life, but at least it is life, and I get to drive you insane."

"Hafsa, have you ever heard of prison?"

"You prick, you always have the upper hand."

"Yes, isn't that wonderful."

"I always had the upper hand against my parents. I liked that feeling, I do not like where I am now."

"Do you think it might be a good idea to apologize to your parents for your behavior?"

"No, an apology would not be good enough. I would have to grovel at their feet and beg for mercy."

"Maybe, if you picked up your face, and looked in front of you, you could ask them."

"You did not do this to me, in front of them, you prick."

"I would watch my language if I were you. Prison is getting closer than you think."

"I have not even apologized to my parents yet, and you are sending me to prison."

"I have not even untied your ropes; I could still thrash you with a whip if I wanted to. However, my president wants me to treat women gently, I do not think he would take kindly to the fact that I used a whip on my future bride."

Ava said, "I can guarantee you his wife would be angry with you, Abraham."

"Do you have a grandstand out here watching me?"

Ava replied, "No Hafsa, only his senior staff, and 20 or 30 of his best friends."

"You know I am going to get even with you for this. Not only do you insult me by airing my every fault, but you do it in front of 100 people."

"Hafsa, you wound me. There are not 100 people here. 80 maybe, but not 100."