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A Story "the Angel Medallion" here's a story I wrote for school

#1 User is offline   JessiFlagFan13 

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  Posted 08 December 2004 - 05:33 PM

We were supposed to write short stories in my 8th grade English class...here's mine. Hope you like it.

"The Angel Medallion"
I couldn’t believe I’d let Jeff talk me into this. I was supposed to be on a mission trip in Kenya, helping to build an orphanage for two hundred children whose parents were AIDS victims. Instead, I was in a jeep with four other men and one woman, and Khalid; our driver, listening to an Arabic CD. We had left the “Food For The Hungry? camp in Amman, Jordan, at seven-thirty that morning, bound for Baghdad, Iraq.
“Come on, Rick? Jeff had said. “These people need our help. And we’re not going to be near any fighting. We’re just going to take some side roads until we reach Baghdad. We’ll drop off the food bags and leave, and then we’ll go back to Jordan and fly home.? Yeah, right.
“Jeff, have you gone completely insane?? I had bellowed. “You’re crazy! ‘We won’t be near any fighting’? Yeah, right! The whole country is a battle zone! No way. I’m not going! No, no, and no! I’m twenty-nine, and I’d like to live to be thirty! I’ll go anywhere, but I draw the line when it comes to going to Iraq. End of discussion!? But here I was, in a jeep, with crates containing boxes of food packed
into—literally—every empty space. There was no room to move, and my legs were stiff and cramped.
Khalid’s words at the beginning of our journey had sent chills down my spine.
“Out here, it’s every man for himself. If your car stops, don’t expect anyone to help. There’s only one object to this game: SURVIVE. Do you understand? Good. Let’s go.? Oh, how I wished I had my old police pistol! Instead, I had my laptop computer and my Bible. I pulled out my laptop and sent a hasty email to my friends and family: “Pray for us. We’re headed for the border into Iraq. No time to write more. PLEASE pray for our safety. Love, Rick.? Suddenly, a white van came into view behind us. Was it a group from Food For The Hungry? Or…was it a group of Iraqi Fedayeen? Khalid wasn’t going to hang around to find out. Our jeep roared forward, bouncing over potholes in the road. My head banged against the roof with every inch that we moved, but I wasn’t complaining. Suddenly, I saw the van pull up alongside us, and I noticed that the men wore Arab clothing. Khalid sped up again, and so did the van. This time, we all noticed that the men held AK-47s—aimed at us. See, Jeff? I told you this wasn’t a good idea! Khalid made one last, desperate attempt to outrun the Fedayeen van—but it was too late. The van swerved in front of us, blocking our escape route. I saw the jeep behind us slow down, as if to stop and help us, but then the driver shook his head sympathetically and moved on. The entire caravan roared past us, as we sat there stunned. Khalid raised his hands in a gesture of peace, but the Fedayeen leader smirked and approached the jeep.
“Pray? Jeff hissed through clenched teeth. We did, but it didn’t stop the Fedayeen. The leaders reached for the door handle and yanked open the driver’s door of the jeep. Khalid didn’t protest, but I saw terror in his eyes. One man, with his entire face hidden by a black-and-white veil, motioned for us to climb out of the jeep. Numb with shock and terror, we stood next to the jeep with our hands raised. The leader pointed to himself and uttered one word: “Haji.? I guessed that that was his name. Then he said “Shu ismak?? , pointing to us.
“He wants us to tell him our names? Khalid said quietly. “Do it. Don’t make him mad.? So we muttered our names, being careful to avoid making eye contact with Haji.
He seemed satisfied, and stepped towards me. I flinched, expecting a slap or a gunshot. None came. Instead, he pointed at my pockets. I stood there, confused and dazed. He shouted, and pointed again. He wanted me to empty my pockets. So, I pulled out a photo of my wife and kids, my cell phone, a tiny angel medallion, and a mint. The man scooped up the photo, glanced at it…and ripped it in half before giving it back. Then he pocketed my cell phone and the angel medallion, and glanced at my hand. Please, please, not my wedding ring! I prayed. He unfastened my watch, and would have taken that, too—until he looked at it. It was a cheap plastic thing, covered in mud and paint from a recent construction job in Peru. Disgusted, he handed back my watch, and moved on to Khalid. Apparently, he hadn’t noticed my wedding ring. I glanced at the torn photo of Erin and the kids (six-month-old Caroline, eight-year-old Keith, and ten-year-old Caitlin) and sighed. I would tape it back together later…and buy a new angel medallion too.
Haji motioned for us to climb back into the jeep. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the motor while we squeezed into the backseat. We were surrounded by Fedayeen, and one of them was pressing his rifle into my back. I tried to turn around, but he growled something without words and shoved me with the rifle. His message was clear: We weren’t going anywhere that he didn’t want to go. Haji reached for the volume knob and turned the volume on our Arabic CD up—way up. The music was blaring, and he had made his statement clearly: He, and only he, was in control. We were helpless.
The man with his rifle pressed into my back—the rifle was now aimed at my head—reached into one of our food boxes and helped himself to one of the containers of food. Haji laughed, and dug into the crates too. The second man—who Haji had called Saied—waved one of the containers under my nose. The smell of chicken wafted through the air, and I gritted my teeth in anger. Jeff was muttering to himself, obviously praying. Katie had her eyes closed, and Khalid was wide-eyed with terror. This was not the way things were supposed to happen. I could only hope that the men would let us go soon.
They steered the jeep off the road and into the vast, empty, desert. Haji and Saied talked loudly in Arabic, laughing wildly. The drums from the Arabic CD pounded in my ears, and I closed my eyes. The heat and noise were making me feel sick, and my head was throbbing. I longed for the Advil that I had left in my suitcase in Amman, but it was too late now. We were far into the desert now, and I could no longer see the road to Baghdad. I hoped my family had gotten my email. Right now, we needed prayers much more than they realized.
Suddenly, I realized that I might not make it home. Our lives were in the hands of the Fedayeen, and it was their decision whether we lived or died. No….My lips formed the silent word, and I began to pray harder than I had in my life. God, please…keep us safe. Let me live, let me live to see Erin and the kids again. I just want to see my family….please, God, help us! Suddenly, the car stopped with a jolt. In front of the jeep was a Humvee packed with American Marines. To us, they were angels. I nearly cried with relief. They raised their rifles, and the battle began. Haji and Saied yelled, and the soldiers fired their weapons. In the backseat, we cowered as bullets flew. Tempers raged and people yelled and hurled curses. At last, Haji, Saied, and the other Fedayeen climbed out of the jeep with their hands raised. Haji’s shoulder was bleeding, but I felt no sympathy. In fact, the sight made me want to laugh out loud. Three marines handcuffed Haji and the others and led them away, while the rest of the Marines helped us out of the jeep and into a helicopter. Khalid was sobbing, and so was everyone else—including me—as we were helped aboard. I was shaking, and someone put their arm around me. “It’s all right…you’re all right now. Everything’s fine. Relax? a soothing voice was saying. Paramedics gave us blankets and food as they bandaged our cuts and put ice on our bruises.
I turned to thank the Marines that had helped us. They had saved our lives, and I wanted to let them know how grateful we were. I was still clutching a card with a painting of an angel that I had hidden from Haji. I pulled the crumpled card out of my pocket and looked at it.

Wait a minute…. My head jerked up, and I stared at the female Marine that was offering me water. She looked EXACTLY like the angel on the card! I stared at the card, then at the Marine, back to the card, and finally back at the Marine again. She gave me a small smile and slipped into the Humvee.
“Wait…? I called out, but she was already gone. Khalid was staring at her too.
“What in the world…..?? he gasped. We stared at each other, puzzled. Before I could say anything, the helicopter was taking off.
I never did find out that female Marine’s true identity. But I do know this: Someone was watching out for us that day.

As for whom that female Marine was, I’ll let you decide for yourself…..







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#2 User is offline   Laracroft 

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Posted 29 December 2004 - 01:01 PM

this story was great good job
hope you are alright after surgery?
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#3 User is offline   JessiFlagFan13 

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Posted 08 January 2005 - 03:16 PM

thanks...i got an A-!! biggrin.gif Yes, I'm doing ok. Had to go through lots of therapy ( sad.gif )
but I'm ok. I went back to school Jan. 3
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#4 User is offline   Laracroft 

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Posted 23 January 2005 - 07:29 PM

I am Glad to here this
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#5 User is offline   starr 

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Posted 06 May 2006 - 06:34 AM

A very good story.....for a retard on crack THAT IS.

Someone tell scott drake "the white trash slimy snake" that lack of integrity is NO accident!!!
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